Summer

We make this summer salad from the beginning to the end of tomato season, and we love it every time. It’s beautiful made with heirloom tomatoes of different colors.

This salad goes with almost any dish. Make it when tomatoes are at their peak.

An open-faced sandwich that cries out for a glass of cold lemonade or beer.

For a summer luncheon or a light supper, there’s nothing better than this lovely salad dressed with lemon and tarragon.

This bread salad makes a perfect summer meal with its ripe juicy tomatoes, basil, olives, and fresh mozzarella all tossed with crusty bread to soak up every drop of the juice!

We surprised ourselves with how good this smoked coleslaw is. This is the vinegary kind of coleslaw, as opposed to one made with mayonnaise. We wanted some smoky flavor and didn’t want to smoke the sausage, so we targeted the slaw instead, and a star was born. Whether you’re adventurous in the kitchen or not, try this one. It’s not hard to do, even without a smoker. Just set a rack inside an aluminum pan, and place wood chips beneath the rack (or tea leaves—they will burn readily and add a nice dimension to the smoked flavor).

This American classic is available at deli counters year-round, but at ’wichcraft, it’s a seasonal sandwich served only when local tomatoes are at their peak. For us, this is a tomato sandwich, with crisp bacon (be sure it’s good quality!) and Bibb lettuce serving almost as condiments. We use a thick slice of tomato, say 1/2 inch, well seasoned with sea salt, really good pepper, and even a little olive oil. This is one of the sandwiches for which architecture matters, so please pay attention to the assembly instructions. For a special kick, rub a peeled garlic clove over the bread before assembling. A mix of heirloom tomatoes is ideal, combining colors and tones, sweetness and acidity. Imagine a slice of red plum, a slice of green zebra, and a slice of German yellow: summer in a sandwich.

A cheese-and-fruit Danish, the Austro-Hungarian apricot dumpling called Marillenknödel, a Turkish dessert of poached dried apricots with sweet-tangy cream and pistachios . . . some flavor combinations just work well, across cultures and continents. This especially pretty open-faced sandwich is great for breakfast, brunch, a light lunch, an afternoon snack, even a dessert; it’s sweet but not too sweet. The colors, tastes, and textures of puffy white ricotta, velvety golden apricots, silky syrupy ribbons of fennel, crunchy toasted green pistachios, and a grinding or two of black pepper on top create a surprise for the palate and a feast for the eye. We both love putting a big platter of these sandwiches in the middle of the table and watching them disappear. Use slightly under ripe apricots; you can stew them longer than riper fruit and so they will absorb more of the flavors of the spices. Other stone fruits such as plums work well, too. The stewed fruit can be prepared in advance and kept refrigerated in its own syrup for several days.

Think of pairing fruit in recipes like planning a seating chart at a dinner party. It’s usually a good idea to split up your two anarchist teenage nephews, right? Similarly, in a crumble it’s best to avoid putting two tart berries, like blackberries and cranberries, in the same bowl. For this recipe, I partner the testy blackberry with a dose of mellow peach, whose sweet charms keep the party on an even keel. Also, blackberries tend to lose their structure under heat, while the peaches—like apples and pears—stay true to form and give your crumble hearty body.

Due to the especially juicy and tart nature of cherries, I substitute evaporated cane juice for agave in the cobbler topping for this dessert. It adds a stable texture that can stand up to the cherries. This recipe is for individual-size portions—sometimes (okay, often) it’s just fine to indulge this type of selfishness.

My sister Sarah, the planet’s most outrageously particular eater, once told me: “I would rather starve than eat something that isn’t a symphony in my mouth.” As I would gladly eat a toupee if my blood sugar sank low enough, people like Sarah are like Martians to me. This cake is the perfect bridge between you and the Sarahs in your life. When I finally had the chance to offer her a slice, she took a bite, shut her eyes, raised a finger like a conductor’s baton, and began humming Beethoven’s Fifth. No joke. I’ve really become partial to the strawberry filling, but on occasion, at Sarah’s request, I substitute both blackberries and blueberries. Stay creative.

Rich, flaky shortcake is a perfect showcase for luscious strawberries.

To many, ginger is synonymous with either the flabby pink shavings plopped beside a sushi roll or the too-sweet soda you were given on your sickbed. For years, I snubbed the root on those grounds, but after opening the bakery, I quickly found I was in the minority. Here’s the thing you need to remember about baking with ginger: It needs a sidekick, or even two. For me, a subtle peach, baked to sweet surrender, is the ideal complement to ginger’s perfumy heat. For this recipe, corn bread is the naturally sweet and grainy foundation.

Sure you can spoon this sauce over ice cream, but you can also make it to serve with waffles or pancakes. Or even as a dip for toasted Brioche (page 194).

This brightly flavored jelly would make a delicious layer in a birthday cake. Pour it into the cake pan you’re using for the cake and let it set.

Dessert wines are usually too sweet for me, so I introduce the natural acids of fresh fruit or berries for balance, as in this granité. Serve this over berries or add it to a margarita.

Tomatoes are technically a fruit, and that’s how I treat them. This sorbet, which should be made at the height of tomato season with the ripest fruits, showcases that characteristic sweet-acid tomato flavor in its coldest form. A scoop of this sorbet can be the start of a not-so-traditional Bloody Mary, and it could also find its way into a bowl of gazpacho. Try pairing it with the Raspberry-Rose Water Soup (page 62), too.