Stone Fruit

What do you say when a nice Jewish boy gives up a promising career as a lawyer to become a self-appointed “amateur gourmet”? (“Oy!” his mom probably said.) When the audacious amateur himself, Adam Roberts, used my recipe for Strawberry Frozen Yogurt (page 91) as inspiration for churning up a batch of Sour Cherry Frozen Yogurt, he posted the results on his web site, www.amateurgourmet.com. It was an idea too delicious not to include in this book. However, when pressed for minor details like, say, a recipe or exact quantities, Adam played the amateur card and feigned ignorance, forcing a certain professional to do his duty. This recipe calls for sour cherries, which are different from their sweeter counterparts and sometimes require a bit of foraging to find (Adam found his at Manhattan’s Greenmarket). Their tiny little pits can easily be slipped out by squeezing the cherries with your fingers or with the help of a cherry pitter.

All right, Armenia can’t really be considered “Middle East,” but it is part of the botanically very important Trans-Causcasian region that begins in Iran. Botanically important because nearly all of our favorite stone fruits (cherries, peaches, apricots, etc.) had their beginnings in this region. This unusual soup combines the apricots of the region with lentils and vegetables. There are many variations and many ingredient possibilities, including bell peppers, tomatoes, mint, allspice, cinnamon, and paprika. In some versions, the lentils and vegetables are left whole; in others, they are puréed. Vary the soup to suit your taste.

Although this unusual risotto could be served with Parmesan cheese shaved over the top as a savory side dish, it’s at its best as a dessert. Serve it warm and topped off with a scoop of vanilla ice cream or some sweetened whipped cream. Gobble it all up before the ice cream has a chance to melt.

In my humble opinion, red plums make the best preserves, and certainly one of the easiest. Their skins give the jam a pleasant tartness and contain so much pectin that even inexperienced jam makers will be blushing like rosy plums with the pride of success. Tossing the fruit with sugar and letting it stand for a few hours intensifies the color of the strawberries so that the jam cooks up with a vivid crimson color.

During the brief cherry season when fresh cherries are abundant (and inexpensive), I make as many batches of candied cherries as I can, as they keep beautifully in their syrup for months in the refrigerator. I’ll add a handful of candied cherries to a fruit crisp before baking, or drain them well and fold them into a batch of just-churned ice cream. They are particularly good spooned over lemon desserts, such as Tangy Lemon Frozen Yogurt (page 174) and Lemon Semifreddo (page 65), and are delicious used in place of the chocolate-covered peanuts in White Chocolate-Ginger Ice Cream (page 149). Or, if no one’s looking, I just pluck one from the jar and pop it into my mouth.

Mangoes, like most tropical fruits, will tip you off to their ripeness with their aroma. A good, ripe mango has a heady, syrupy scent, and when you hold it in your hand, it should feel slightly soft and a bit too heavy for its size. Although the plump, sweeter varieties, such as Hayden and Tommy Atkins, are the most tempting, slender and wrinkly Champagne or Manila mangoes that you might come across will surprise you with their gentle nuances. Depending on which variety you choose to use in this sauce, start with the smaller amount of sugar and add more if necessary. A spoonful of mango sauce is a nice complement to Coconut and Tropical Fruit Trifle (page 70) or scoops of Toasted Coconut Sherbet (page 152) nestled in cookie cups made with Sesame-Orange Almond Tuiles (page 212).

Up until a few years ago, white peaches and nectarines were an oddity in America and finding them was nearly impossible. Happily, they’ve now become fairly common, and you can spot them in grocery stores and farmers’ markets across the land. Their flavor is not as intense as their yellow counterparts, but their delicacy is part of their appeal. Also appealing is how when white nectarines are cooked with their skins and then puréed, the finished mixture is an ivory hue with a faint touch of rosy pink. I came up with this dessert when I was the pastry chef at Monsoon, an Asian restaurant run by Bruce Cost, one of the best cooks I’ve ever met in my life. Unlike American dinners, most Asian meals don’t end with a full-on dessert. So my challenge was to create desserts that customers would find appealing enough to order after sharing spicy, authentic, and sometimes challenging fare—like the turtle soup served with raw turtle eggs floating on the surface, or the sea slugs that tasted (slightly) better than they looked. I had to make sure the desserts would bring people back from whatever culinary precipice we took them to. This fruit sorbet, resting in a five-spice cookie cup and served with berries steeped in sweet plum wine, was the perfect landing pad.

Many consider the area behind the Gare du Nord in Paris rather dubious. Yes, it’s home to the Paris headquarters for the Hell’s Angels. But lots of amazing ethnic foods can also be found there, for which I’m happy to brave the bikers and travel a bit out of the way. Of the various cultures that have opened restaurants and grocers in that part of Paris, Indian is the most prominent. At night, the blue neon–illuminated stands of the Indian épiceries feature all sorts of odd-looking produce that remain a mystery to me. But I do know mangoes. During their season in late spring, I head to that neighborhood and buy them by the case. I use them in everything, from tropical fruit salads to mango daiquiris (which I’m sure aren’t as popular with the Hell’s Angels as they are with my crowd). But a few invariably get churned up into a batch of this sorbet, along with a basket of strawberries from my local market and a dash of rum, which even the gruffest biker couldn’t resist.

I was asked to do a frozen dessert demonstration on the Today show and figured it was going to be my big breakthrough. In my imagination, I would dazzle the media and viewers with my ability to make sorbet without an ice cream machine, catapulting my career into the culinary stratosphere. However, as soon as I pitted the first cherry, the host, Katie Couric, became fixated on my spring-loaded cherry pitter and challenged me to a cherry-pitting duel (I should have realized those who get to the top have a competitive streak). She insisted on using a paperclip, which I knew would put her at a disadvantage. Her method was slower than mine, but being a good guest, I let her win (which explains why I’m not at the top). And because of the nature of live morning television, we barely had time to get to the sorbet. In the end, she went on to make millions of dollars as a celebrity and I went home with my cherry pitter in my suitcase. I’ll leave it up to you to decide whether to use a cherry pitter or a paperclip to pit your cherries for this sorbet. But you definitely won’t need an ice cream machine—the food processor is the machine for this frozen dessert.

One of the questions I’m often asked is “How do you stay so thin?” I want to respond by saying that I’m about average for my height and age, but instead I tell people that I eat only my own desserts. I’m not just being a salesman, it’s close to the truth. Aside from the occasional treat, for everyday meals, I prefer to make desserts that are well balanced rather than outrageously rich. I’ll often serve small slivers of cake, a plate of cookies, or scoops of icy sorbet along with a fresh fruit compote and have never met with resistance from any of my guests. When it comes to this virtuous fruit soup, the thin sheet of crackly coconut meringue always seals the deal for those who are doubtful that lean can taste luxurious.

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).

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.

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.

Here’s a superb dessert for highlighting summer peaches when they are at their peak of flavor and so juicy that you struggle to pick up the slippery slices that elude your grasp. This is an ideal dessert to bring to a summertime picnic or barbecue: it’s easy to assemble in advance and even easier to eat.

I’ve found that as I get older, I tend to forget about the things that aren’t all that important to me, like paying bills, what day it is, and so on. But I never, ever forget a dessert. A few decades ago, some friends who had lived in Brazil for a few years invited me for dinner and served bien me sabe, a moist concoction of sponge cake and coconut cream. And I never got it out of my head how fantastic that simple combination tasted. Years later, when I was the pastry chef at a restaurant that specialized in Asian cooking, I had the opportunity to seek out and use all sorts of tropical fruit, many of which I hadn’t ever seen before. And I thought bien me sabe would be the perfect backdrop for a jumble of exotic flavors. Although I’ve used the types of tropical fruit that are the most widely available, feel free to add or use others in place of what I’ve suggested. But just be sure to heat them through, as most tropical fruits contain a heat-sensitive enzyme that causes custards to break down. I learned this the hard way. I like the way large shreds of fresh coconut look on top of this dessert. If you have the inclination, crack one open, shave off large shards, and toast them to use as garnish.

There seems to be an irksome theme in dessert books suggesting that a particular cake or pastry be served “with tea, in the afternoon.” I don’t know who has time to sit around and sip tea in the middle of the day, but I know at least one person who can usually be found foraging in his kitchen in the late afternoon, on the prowl for something to snack on. This cake combines everything I crave: tangy plums, toffee with a bit of salt, and buttery cake. If you do take tea in the afternoon, I’m sure it’d be a fine accompaniment. But I’m happy to enjoy it all by itself, whenever I can.

As everyone knows, the best part of an upside-down cake is the caramelized bits of topping and batter that get stuck in the bottom of the pan after the cake is unmolded. Instead of eating these bits, the right thing to do is to scrape them out and smear them back onto the warm cake. If you can do that, you’re a better person than I.

This is the classic upside-down cake that takes advantage of the summer season, when plums and berries are in full swing. I love how the flavor of tart plums contrasts with the toffeelike brown sugar topping. But feel free to swap out other favorite fruits of summer; I offer a few of suggestions in Variations, below.