Gluten Free

This intensely flavored granita is the perfect answer for those who don’t want to choose between a nice macchiato and a sweet finish to the meal. The Grappa Cream adds an elegant, and boozy, touch. Although it has only three ingredients, you need to plan ahead for the granita. It will take about 6 hours to freeze, and you need to fluff it with a fork every hour to ensure the texture is light.

This is an Italian classic, with a twist. Traditionally made with Marsala, I like to vary it by using Viognier, or even prosecco, as we do here. The wine adds a dimension to the custard and marries well with the sweet berries. If you don’t have a kitchen torch, skip the step where you sprinkle on the sugar and simply serve the custard spooned over the berries. If you use the broiler instead of a torch, the custard will get too soft.

Although I’ve outed myself as someone who often prefers savory to sweet, even after dinner, I’ve found the perfect compromise that is sure to keep everyone happy. This is one of my favorite summer desserts, for those long, hot nights when you crave something lighter as a finish to your meal. This sorbet is just the ticket; make it when the blueberries are fat and sweet and fresh basil is everywhere you look.

Campari and soda is one of my favorite aperitifs. Not only is Campari a brilliant vermilion that looks stunning in the glass, but also the liquor’s bitter edge whets the appetite for the dishes to come. Transformed into a gorgeous, not-too-sweet sorbet, Campari is equally at home finishing a meal. (Although this sorbet would also make a nice refresher between courses if you were feeling fancy.) The addition of sweet, ruby-hued blood orange juice makes this a perfect dessert for midwinter when summer’s fruits are still months away. Before you freeze your sorbet, I recommend you pour a little into a highball glass and add some ice and gin. It makes the wait so much more enjoyable.

The very essence of summer, this recipe features, really, just one ingredient. It takes multiple steps to transform the melon into this dense, creamy sorbet, but don’t be tempted to take shortcuts. Your reward is in the intense flavor and hue of the finished product. This is one case where you must go to the farmers’ market and seek out the gnarled old guy who lovingly raises organic muskmelons—maybe Crenshaws or Hearts of Gold—and picks them only when you can smell their perfume a mile away as they warm in the sun. Go. He’s there, and he’ll make sure you get a good melon.

I can’t decide whether I love the color—a pale celadon—or the exotic flavor of this ice cream more. The pear causes the base to have a thinner consistency than some other ice creams have before freezing, but the final texture is lovely. It’s hard to peg the flavor as star anise in the ice cream, because the spice mellows with the cold and the cream, but it’s addictive. This isn’t a scoop-in-a-cone kind of dessert, but an elegant cookie on the side would be nice.

Rich and earthy, with a haunting flavor that comes from steeping toasted walnuts in cream before making your custard, this makes a very elegant finish to a meal (and it’s good straight from the freezer at midnight, too).

This is not the chocolate ice cream you used to eat as a kid, though no kid would say no to a big, fat dish of it. This has more depth thanks to brown sugar, and the tang of crème fraîche takes the edge off the sweetness. For an elegant richness, use the very best semisweet chocolate you can find. Please, no chocolate chips. Not only would the flavor suffer, but the emulsifiers added to chocolate chips would ruin the texture of the dessert.

This dessert is layered with toasty, earthy flavors, from the concentrated sweetness of the roasted figs to the nutty brown butter to the chocolate ganache deepened with a touch of coffee. You can ride the sweet-salty wave by sprinkling with a finishing salt at the end, or simply dust with powdered sugar. You can’t go wrong.

Rhubarb is one of those love-hate foods. For me, it’s all about the love. Not only do I like the tartness, a zinging alternative to too-cloying desserts, but it’s pretty, too. Yes, it’s pink and it’s pretty and I’m secure enough to admit it. With the gentle bubbles emanating from the prosecco, this soup is impressive enough to end a fancy spring meal, and it’s easy, to boot.

Cacio Faenum is a fragrant sheep’s milk cheese that, like little baby Jesus, is lovingly laid on a bed of hay to rest. Unlike the newborn king, however, the cheese is actually wrapped in dried grass and buried in a hay-filled barrel for a little more than a month. You’ll recognize this incredible cheese by its charming hay wrapper and a grassy, barn-y fragrance that marries nicely with the earthiness of apricots and almonds.

I think of Robiola as what I always want Brie to be. It’s even more lush than that French imposter, with a smooth, flowing core that’s like pure silk. The very best specimens must be tasted in Italy, where they don’t let unpasteurized milk stand between any man and his cheese. We get very fine imports here, however, and depending on the producer, your Robiola may be fashioned from either goat, sheep, or cow’s milk, or a combination. Because Robiola is so rich, I like to pair it with something tart and jammy, like this easy gooseberry compote. To serve, make sure the compote has cooled completely and the Robiola is at room temperature to allow it to be its runny, best self.

There are fruit people, and there are chocolate people. Even chocolate people will lick their plates clean when presented with a refreshing, lemony panna cotta strewn with wine-steeped peaches. Panna cotta makes a nice spring and summertime dessert because it’s not so rich that you leave the table feeling stuffed, and the lemon verbena adds a welcome, herbaceous tang. This dish is perfect for company because the panna cotta must be made ahead, and the peaches “cook” while coming to room temperature.

A cheese course for gin lovers, Ginepro is a sheep’s milk pecorino from Emilia-Romagna that is first rubbed with balsamic vinegar and olive oil and then buried in juniper berries. It’s a salty, herbal cheese with an awesome tang. To complement the flavor and amp up the juniper, caramelize some pears and flame them with gin, then allow them to macerate to develop the flavor. With that much gin going on, pour a dry prosecco to drink with it.

Go to your farmers’ market and get the freshest and best goat cheese you can find—the tang and texture are critical with a dish this straightforward. Chestnut honey has an earthiness, almost a gaminess, really, that adds depth and structure to the dish.

Mackerel is a rich fish with fabulous texture and depth of flavor. Though it’s not traditional, preserved lemon adds a piquant, salty touch to a rustic pounded sauce. To make sure the potatoes are crispy when you serve the dish, grill the fish first and fry the potatoes right before serving. Parboiling the potatoes makes it easy to get them crispy, while ensuring they’re cooked through.

Although these savory, salty little bundles are a little too fat to truly resemble cigars, rolling the crabs in the prosciutto does employ a technique used by skilled workers in Cuba. It might also seem familiar to you if you’ve ever hand-rolled anything in papers. For directions on cleaning the soft-shell crabs, see page 32. Make sure you go easy on the salt in this dish because the prosciutto already contains plenty.

I love it when the first bunches of springtime sorrel appear in the market. It has a fantastic sour, lemony-mint thing going on that does something great for clams. The only drawback is that when you cook sorrel, it turns the worst color of brown. Sprinkle it on the dish at the last minute for the best flavor and look. Please try to find guanciale for this dish—it has a delightful fattiness to it that can’t really be replicated. If you can’t find guanciale, use bacon or pancetta instead. Everyone thinks clams have to be cooked over high heat. It’s not necessary in order for the clams to open, and it can render them tough if not done carefully.

This beautiful fall dish is a study in silken textures, from the velvety purée to the creamy interior of the ivory scallops. Quick searing gives the scallops a crispy, caramelized exterior that is well matched to the sweetness of the pear in the purée, while the chanterelles add texture, depth, and a luscious, buttery flavor. Although there are three separate parts to this recipe, it’s still relatively straightforward to prepare. Make the purée first, then hold it at room temperature; the searing and sautéing take no more than five minutes.