Vegetarian

Some people might consider it overkill to mix caramelized sugar with the lush flavor of butterscotch. But since the beauty of being an adult is that we can do pretty much as we please, I don’t feel the need to apologize for mixing the two in one cool custard. If you want to ramp up the flavor of the butterscotch custard with even more flavorful molasses notes than dark brown sugar can supply, try using one of the unrefined brown or cane sugars that can be found in natural food stores. Look for ones that are dark and ruddy, since they tend to have the most flavor.

This tart exemplifies what the French do best: combine just a few top-quality ingredients, doing as little to them as possible. Ganache is a mélange of cream and chocolate, reportedly named after a young baker who accidentally spilled some cream into the chocolate the chef was melting. The chef called him a ganache, which is slang for “idiot,” but when he stirred in the cream, they realized the mistake was probably one of the most brilliant things to ever happen to chocolate.

Even before the recent coffee-caramel craze, I was proudly baking up these custards because they bring together two of my favourite flavors. Although I’d love to take responsibility for starting the trend, the only thing I can say with certainty is that I’m unabashedly crazy for the combination. For best results, use very strong espresso because you want to make sure that the coffee flavor is bold enough to stand up to the deep, dark caramel. I think the custards are best served chilled, like some of those barista drinks.

This is the French classic that everyone knows and loves. I’ve resisted doing anything to change it, except be more generous with the chocolate than the pastry chef in the average Parisian bistro. Excusez-moi, but I like chocolate so much that I just couldn’t help myself. This recipe is a good place to use top-notch chocolate, French or otherwise. You won’t regret it when your spoon cuts through the glossy surface and dives into the smooth custard below. For best results, use a high-percentage dark chocolate, one that’s 60 to 70 percent cacao.

I’ve become famous—or infamous—for not wanting people to dip their forks into a dish that I’m eating so that they can get a taste. I’m sorry, but I find nothing more unnerving than having to stop eating and pass something that I’m enjoying around the table. And it seems that the more I like whatever it is, the more it never quite makes it back to me. Traditionally, Pavlova is a jumbo meringue topped with whipped cream and tropical fruit. But to avoid conflict, I opt to make individual ones so that everyone gets their fair share and forks don’t wander at the table. Individual Pavlovas are also easier to serve. You can vary the types of tropical fruit that you use, but really try to search out fresh passion fruit. The vibrant orange pulp and seeds spilling over everything will make it instantly clear why this is one dessert you’d not want to share either.

There are a lot of rather timid recipes for baked apples out there, but this one, packed with spicy ginger and sweet dates, is a twist on the usual homey fare. It’s a dessert that pleads to be topped with a scoop of ice cream that will melt from the warmth of the fruit. These apples also make an eye-opening breakfast when you’re weary of the same old eggs-and-toast routine. If you’re anything like me, you’re not at your peak in the morning, so bake them the night before, then rewarm them while the coffee is brewing. At breakfast, ice cream is optional.

The almond-scented French cakes known as financiers are traditionally baked in small rectangular shapes meant to resemble bars of gold. Unless you’re loaded, you likely don’t have 12 fancy, expensive French rectangular baking molds lying around, so I’ve adapted this recipe for baking in a standard-size muffin tin, which works beautifully—and won’t lead you to finanicial ruin.

I once worked with a French waiter known for a fierce scowl that could cause even the most self-assured chef and diner to wither. He tasted one spoonful of these peaches and told me that this was his idea of the perfect dessert. It was one of the few times I saw him smile. But what’s not to like? Icy peaches floating in sweet red wine is pretty close to perfection, if I do say so myself. His good mood didn’t last very long. But after that, every time we passed each other, I knew from the tiny gleam in his eye that I’d won the admiration of my toughest customer.

If you’re starting to feel a little, um, bulky as summer approaches, keep this fruity cobbler in mind because it’s a lean, but delicious, dessert. The biscuits are moistened by a healthy pour of buttermilk, and the modest amount of butter provides flavor without weighing the biscuits (or you) down. The other great thing is that the biscuits are made in a bowl and simply spooned over the fruit, rather than rolled out and cut, making this a no-sweat dessert (another plus in summer).

I was in line at an outdoor market in Paris and une dame d’un certain âge in front of me was getting a lesson on preparing rhubarb from la vendeuse, who insisted that rhubarb absolutely, positively had to be peeled before cooking. Having prepared quite a bit of rhubarb, often in a professional capacity, I figured I could add my deux centimes, so I spoke up, telling them that I’d never done that and that it really wasn’t necessary. Immediately, the line of French housewives erupted, insisting that yes, you simply must peel rhubarb. Seeing as I was outnumbered, I decided to not argue the point. Safely back at home, I’ll admit with confidence that I’ve never found the need to peel rhubarb for a recipe, but I have experimented with using it in unconventional ways and found that it has a remarkable affinity for pineapple and raspberries, a mix that makes a delicious fruit cobbler—which no one should have any quibbles with.

With such a strong almond-like flavor, it makes sense to think that authentic Italian amaretti cookies are made with almonds. But, in fact, it’s apricot kernels that give them their robust, nutlike bite. Whatever the source of their flavor, amaretti cookies have a remarkable affinity for stone fruits such as peaches. I often double (or triple) the recipe for this topping and freeze the leftover in a zippered plastic bag. That way, I have some on hand and can bake up a crisp at a moment’s notice.

I’m a big fan of fruit crisps. When I worked at Chez Panisse, I learned I wasn’t alone—they were more popular than our signature dark chocolate cake. But I’m not entirely convinced that I’d choose a fruit crisp over chocolate cake. Maybe I’d order both in the name of research. This fruit crisp topping, made with crunchy polenta, stands up well to the juiciest mélange of fruits. Here, I mix apples and pears, and it may seem like a lot of fruit when you’re doing all that peeling and slicing, but it cooks down considerably during baking. Use a good baking apple, such as Gravenstein, Winesap, Pippin, Northern Spy, or Cortland.

My friend Cindy Meyers, who tested many of the recipes in this book and my two previous ones, wrote me, excitedly, that this dessert was her favorite of all that she tested. “The almond topping is so fluffy!” she commented. Considering she’s someone that I look to for criticism, when praise comes forth, I’m flattered.

Friend and fellow baker Dede Wilson presented me with a slice of this tart after she made it on television. Believe me, if every viewer could have tasted it, ratings would’ve gone through the roof! The name of this tart is a little deceptive, just as television sometimes is. The recipe calls for almond paste, not marzipan, as the title suggest. (Marzipan is almond paste’s sweeter cousin that’s used for molding and modeling.) Yes, Dede took some liberties when she named her creation, but no matter what it’s called, this tart is renewed season after season in my kitchen.

The first time I saw a fresh fig was nearly three decades ago when I was living in upstate New York. I had no idea what it was. Then I moved to California and saw them everywhere. I can’t say for sure that fresh figs were the reason I stayed put there for so long, but they certainly were one of them.

I once found a long-forgotten jar of homemade quince marmalade in the back of my refrigerator. Rather than throw it out, I took it with me to a friend’s house out in the country with the hope that one morning I could slip it onto the breakfast table and no one would be the wiser. But I was so mesmerized by the gorgeous rosy hue of the quince preserves that, instead, I used the marmalade as a filling for this amazingly easy-to-make jam tart. The tart is easy for a couple of reasons. The first is that there is no filling to make or fruit to cut up—any type of thick jam or marmalade, homemade or otherwise, is all you’ll need. The second is that the dough doesn’t require rolling: two-thirds of it is pressed into the tart pan, and the rest is formed into a log, sliced like refrigerator cookie dough, then layered onto the tart to create the top crust. Truly a piece of cake to make, this tart serves as a wonderful breakfast pastry. In the end, the marmalade did indeed make an early (well, not too early) morning appearance on the table, and I didn’t have to be sneaky about it.

I never would have thought of pairing white chocolate with lemon. My first taste of the combination was in the form of a slice of a towering lemon pie with white chocolate sauce at a restaurant in San Francisco. The second was in a filling made of the two enrobed as a neat square of chocolate at Theo Chocolate in Seattle. I didn’t need any more convincing that the pair is delicious match. My third experience with the combination was making these tartlets, and they were a charm as well. Although I’m happy to share my recipes, I’m not so big on sharing desserts, so I made these tartlets in individual portions. You can swirl each plate with the white chocolate sauce or, if you’re better at sharing than I am, you can pass a bowl of it at the table.

I tried to explain to some French pals what a “treehugger” is, a term that we Americans jokingly use to refer to a person who participates in well-intentioned earth-saving activities. Judging from my friends’ baffled expressions, the meaning got lost in translation. There are now a few French people wandering around scratching their heads, puzzled about nutty Americans with a penchant for wrapping their arms around tree trunks. I’m guilty of hugging a few trees myself. I read that using Brazil nuts is something positive that we can do to help sustain the rain forests, so I came up with this tart, which is packed full of them. I can’t say you’ll feel better about saving the planet if you make it, but anyone who doesn’t give it a try is, in my opinion, definitely nuts.

This is an unusual tart. Not just for its brilliant red color, but for how it takes people by surprise when it’s turned out onto a serving platter. Be sure to plan in advance, as the apples really benefit from marinating in the red wine for at least one day, although two days of steeping gives them the best color. You’ll find the tart worth the wait.

If you’ve never made brown butter, it’s simple. You put butter in a pan and cook it until it develops the wonderful nutty aroma for which the French named it: beurre noisette, or hazelnut butter. Here, custard flavored with brown butter provides a rich background for a tart filled with dark rum–spiked pears and toasted pecans.