Stand Mixer

Crispy nests of meringue—also known as vacherins—add a certain savoir faire and offer a very dramatic presentation for any ice cream or sorbet, especially when you add a ladleful of sauce as well. The combination of crackly meringue, luscious ice cream, and a complimentary sauce is justifiably known as one of the great French dessert classics. It is certain to become a well-loved part of your repertoire as well. Use a deft hand when folding in the confectioners’ sugar. Aggressive overmixing can cause the meringue to start deflating.

These marshmallows are chewy and compact, designed to be folded into ice cream. They are indispensable in Rocky Road Ice Cream (page 26) but can be deliciously added to lots of other flavors as well. To measure powdered gelatin, open the envelopes and measure the granules with a tablespoon. These are best made in a heavy-duty stand mixer.

Successful whipped cream means starting with the best-tasting, freshest cream you can find. Buy heavy or whipping cream that hasn’t been ultrapasteurized, if you can. Before you start whipping, make sure your cream is very cold. If you chill the bowl and whisk beforehand, the cream will whip much faster, which is especially important in warmer weather.

I love sticky marshmallow sauce perhaps more than anything else on earth. When it’s spooned over a hot fudge sundae, the combination sends me skyward to heaven. Make it for yourself and see what all the fuss is about. This sauce must be made just before serving, as it doesn’t hold well. But it never lasts long around my house, and I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding someone to help you finish it all up rather quickly either.

Eating is practically a sport in Singapore, and these very popular pastries are part of he city-state’s eclectic and irresistible cuisine. Possibly Portuguese in origin, these intensely flavored pineapple tarts come in many shapes, from fancy open-faced tarts to carefully carved tiny pineapples. However, for the Lunar New Year, they’re made to resemble tangerines, a symbol of good fortune; in Chinese, tangerine is a homonym for “gold.” A decorative clove (not meant for consumption!) sits atop each one to mimic the fruit’s stem. Traditionally, fresh grated pineapple is used, but many modern cooks opt for canned pineapple. A long simmering turns the fragrant pineapple into a lovely amber-colored jam resembling tangerine flesh. Instead of adding food coloring to the egg-yolk glaze to enhance the pastry’s appearance, I add a touch of ground annatto seed to brighten up the dough. Without the natural colorant, the pastries still taste great.

A wonderful revolution has taken place in America over the last decade: small local dairies have been sprouting up all across the land and many of them are producing heavy cream with rich, unmistakable, and honest-to-goodness flavor. Once you taste real cream, you’ll never want to use the bland ultrapasteurized stuff that has taken over supermarket dairy cases. For whipped cream, the freshest non-ultrapasteurized cream not only tastes the best, but it whips up much better. I highly recommend tracking some down. Make sure the cream is very cold before whipping, and if the weather is warm, chill the bowl and the whisk ahead of time.

Sabayon is the French version of Italian zabaglione, an airy egg-and-wine custard. It requires a certain amount of energy—and strength—to whip up a batch. If you’ve ever heard a frenzy of whisking coming from the kitchen at an Italian restaurant, you’ve heard why many Italian cooks (especially the sturdy grandmas) have such well-developed arms. But one lick of the boozy, frothy dessert is enough to make you forget those few furious minutes of whipping. If you don’t think you’re up to the task, you can use an electric handheld mixer. But I always feel that if I’ve worked hard to make something, I’ve earned the right to eat it. You can serve the sabayon hot from the stove, although here, it is cooled and whipped cream is added so it can be held before serving.

This feather-light sponge cake recipe was given to me by the always-gracious food writer Shirley Sarvis. When I asked her the reason for adding water to sponge cake batter, she replied, “For moisture, of course!” It is indeed a wonderfully moist sponge cake, and I use it in many desserts, including Coconut Layer Cake (page 59), Lemon Semifreddo (page 65), and Coconut and Tropical Fruit Trifle (page 70). The cake can be baked in a baking sheet with sides, often referred to as a jelly-roll pan, or in a 9-inch (23-cm) round springform pan.

Anyone intimidated by making dough will quickly get over it in the 3 minutes that it takes to make this one. It’s very easy to put together, very forgiving, and almost impossible to botch. Any flaws, cracks, or imperfections are part of its rustic charm, although I’m confident that even the most inexperienced baker will master it with the very first try. It will likely become your favorite dough to use for any number of open-faced fruit tarts. This recipe can be doubled—an extra disk is good to have on hand in the freezer for later use.

There’s lots of controversy about which fat makes the best pie crust: butter, shortening, or lard. I’m not a fan of shortening or lard because I always feel like I’m being unfaithful to butter by not baking with it. And besides, I like its taste. As long as you keep the butter cold and the ice water to a minimum, this dough bakes up plenty flaky. I prefer to use glass pie plates as they make it easy to check on the browning underneath, but metal pie pans work well, too.

This dough is cookielike and sturdy, and it doesn’t need to be weighed down with pie weights for prebaking. But best of all, it’s pressed into the tart pan, so there’s no need for rolling.

These barely sweet crisp little cookies are the definitive Italian nibble. Not only do I serve them as perfect bites alongside a ristretto (a “tight” espresso), but I also crumble them up and use the bitter almond-scented crumbs in desserts. They make a perfect topping for Lemon Semifreddo (page 65) and give a decidedly Italian touch to Peach-Amaretti Crisp (page 102). True amaretti are made with sweet apricot kernels rather than almonds, but since apricot kernels can be difficult to find and not everyone’s keen on eating them (they contain cyanide), I call for almonds in this recipe.

When I think of cookie cultures, Mexico doesn’t immediately spring to mind. However, there are Mexican wedding cookies, or polvorones, the nation’s answer to Scottish shortbread. Their delicate texture and mild sweetness make them muy simpático next to a bowl of Sangria Sorbet (page 158) or Mexican Chocolate Ice Cream (page 148).

After years of carefully studying dessert habits, I’ve begun to refine my theory that there are two types of people—those who like lemon desserts and those who like chocolate. I’ve observed that there’s a subspecies that likes desserts with a crunch, a group that includes me. I’m a big fan of seeds, and I like to add them to these jam-filled cookies to put them squarely in the crunchy camp. Or should I say “roundly,” since they are, indeed, round. But feel free to use any cookie cutters you have—round, square, oval, or even heart-shaped.

This is the classic gingersnap: thin, crisp, with a spicy bite. For the best flavor, use very fresh spices. I grind my own cinnamon and cloves for these, and never, ever use preground black pepper. If you don’t have a pepper mill, shame on you. Go get one. Although not a pantry staple, coarse-crystal sugar—such as Demerara or turbinado—is wonderful embedded in the surface of each snappy cookie. I find it pretty indispensable for these cookies and use it for sprinkling onto many different baked goods before they go into the oven, so I always keep a tub of it in my kitchen cabinet.

The name may lead you to think these are crisp cookies, but they’re not. They are snappy in another way—there are plenty of spices in the batter, plus a generous helping of candied ginger, making them deserving of the snap moniker. They’re good on their own, but with such a soft, chewy texture, I had a hunch that they would make dynamite ice cream sandwiches, so I filled a few with Tangy Lemon Frozen Yogurt (page 174) and popped them in the freezer. The next day, when I pulled a sandwich out of the freezer and took a bite, I stopped dead in my tracks because I was so stunned: it was the best ice cream sandwich I’ve ever had.

The Scottish have shortbread and the French have their sablés (sandy-textured butter cookies), but both cultures and cookies are so hidebound in tradition that you’ll rarely find variations. To them I say kick off those highlanders, get your heads out of the sablé, and think again. These pecan shortbread cookies are delightfully crisp, with a delicately caramelized flavor thanks to the addition of brown sugar. If you’ve seen a fancy European-style butter or a locally made cultured one and you’ve been wondering what’s a good use for it, these buttery rectangles are just the things.

Shortly after my first book came out, my phone rang one night a little after 10:30 p.m. A reader had tracked me down to let me know, with urgency, that she loved these cookies, but that they took 10 minutes to bake in her oven instead of the 9 minutes indicated in the recipe. When in doubt, err on the side of underbaking so your peanut butter cookies remain moist. Take them out when they’re still a bit soft, as they’ll continue to firm up a bit after cooling. This time around, I’ve given a bit more latitude with the timing so as to avoid any late-night baking-related emergency phone calls.

The day we start cloning people, we must begin with Flo Braker. Not only is she a lovely woman, but she’s one of the best bakers in America. And I’m all for propagating our species with as many great bakers as we can. I’ve been making her chocolate snaps for years—they’re just right when I’m craving a crispy cookie that tastes of pure and unadulterated deep, dark chocolate. Luckily, these cookies are easy to make and a snap to reproduce in any home kitchen.

I almost started an international incident when I put some pictures of my black and white cookies on my blog. People went ballistic because I didn’t include a recipe. The problem was that I didn’t know who to credit since my recipe is culled from a variety of sources. Like New York City, the spiritual home to these cookies, my sources and inspiration for them are the ultimate melting pot: a Seinfeld episode, an email from food maven Arthur Schwartz, a recipe from the legendary Zabar’s, and George Greenstein’s comprehensive tome, Secrets of a Jewish Baker.