A proper tart shell should be golden brown, uniformly thin, crispy, and have smooth, clean edges. When you bite into it, it should melt in your mouth as you chew. I’m practical when it comes to tart shells. To me, a tart shell must serve a purpose: it should carry as much fresh fruit as possible. During the summer in France, this means a punnet of ripe woodland strawberries—they taste so sweet, they could be candy—arranged on top of a layer of whipped vanilla ganache. I add as many as I can, so there’s not a sliver of ganache visible. A little strawberry jam piped on top deepens the tart’s flavor.
Using a vanilla bean makes this creamy pudding extra special and aromatic. But if you don’t have one on hand, just stir 1 tablespoon vanilla extract into the pudding along with the egg yolks. Although rice pudding is traditionally served cold, I also like this when it’s still warm and a little runny, poured over sliced strawberries and raspberries, which add both juiciness and acidity.
This recipe is old-fashioned in the sense that it doesn't involve any canned milk, powders, or artificial flavorings. It results in a flan that is not too eggy thanks to the use half-and-half instead of milk to help thicken it.
Instead of gritty powdered sugar, this tangy frosting starts with a light vanilla custard made from fresh milk and eggs. That keeps it thick and creamy, but not too rich—perfect for slathering over my Red (Wine) Velvet Cake.
Unlike most pie lovers, if I’m given a choice between a fruit- or custard-filled one, I always reach for the custard one first. The rich, custardy smoothness draws me in every time. This pie is no exception; the added brûléed sugar top gives the ensemble a slight crunch and added dimension in flavor.
Making mostarda is an art and a process. It requires poaching fruit—either whole, large pieces, or sliced—in syrup over the course of several days, until it is saturated and beautifully translucent. Once this candying process is completed, mustard essence is stirred in drop by drop until the mostarda is sufficiently spicy—spicy enough to make your eyes water! The type of fruit depends on what’s in season, but quince, pears, apples, melon, and figs are all good candidates. Of all those, I prefer pears, which take beautifully to the candying process without (by some miracle) turning mushy at all. Although traditional mostarda is made with small whole or halved fruits, I cut the pears into thin slices, as I find the large pieces unwieldy.
From the court of the Bentivoglio family in Bologna during the 1600s comes this recipe for hot chocolate. Their cook, Giuseppe Lamma, was responding to the fashion of the day in writing a recipe for processing the cocoa bean along with his own rendition of the drink, chocolate (the candy was still far off). Some historians claim Italians taught the art of chocolate making to the French and English in the 1700s. Another logical explanation is all the Spanish connections with those countries through diplomacy, noble marriages and alliances. After all, it was the Spanish who brought chocolate to Europe from the Americas, and they adopted chocolate drinking with great enthusiasm.
Blurring the lines between ice cream and mousse, simplicity and finesse, nostalgia and novelty, this is the kind of dessert that’s hard to categorize but easy to love.
Lemon curd whizzed in a food processor for a minute or so becomes a lighter-than-air, creamy sauce for these sweet and tangy dessert crepes, which were created by pastry chef and cookbook author Kir Jensen of The Sugar Cube food cart in Portland, Oregon. If you're using fresh rhubarb, pick out the darkest red stalks you can find—they have the best flavor and color.
Kir Jensen, a pastry chef and owner of The Sugar Cube food cart in Portland, Oregon, created these crepes to go with the roasted rhubarb and lemon cream recipes. But these nutty crepes would be great in many of the sweet recipes in this book, or eaten on their own with just a smear of butter and a drizzle of honey. Look for almond paste and almond meal in the baking section of your local supermarket. (When choosing almond paste, avoid marzipan, which is not the same thing.) Almond meal is very finely ground almonds; it's like a coarse flour.