Stone Fruit

While living in Rhode Island and working at Al Forno, I was fascinated by the celebrations that revolved around food (especially in the Italian and Portuguese neighborhoods) and the connection Rhode Islanders felt to certain local produce, like their native tomatoes and homegrown corn. The most prized dish in tiny Rhode Island is the johnnycake. Originally called journey cakes, these cornmeal griddle cakes, made with locally milled native corn, have been the pride and joy of Rhode Island since the seventeenth century. County competitions are held annually, and there’s even a group called the Society for the Propagation of Johnny Cakes that sees to it that their corn-pancake tradition stays alive and well. So it seemed natural at Al Forno to add that famous stone-ground corn to our shortcake biscuit. Here I’ve borrowed Al Forno’s foolproof recipe and added peaches and my own “soured cream.” To get the peaches nice and saucy, I marinate them in simple syrup with mint and then purée a portion of the fruit to spoon over the biscuit. Feel free to make this shortcake with whatever juicy fruit you like, such as nectarines or berries. The biscuit recipe makes about eight in all. So don’t worry when you notice one or two mysteriously missing after they’re pulled from the hot oven and left to cool on the counter; you’ll still have enough to feed six.

This recipe is a way to show off the best summer fruit you can find. If possible, use an assortment of fruits, such as plums, peaches, figs, and berries, but make sure that all the fruit is up to snuff. Rather than striving for variety and ending up with less-than-ideal examples of each fruit, you’re better off with a simpler salad composed of only the most perfect nectarines or gorgeous peaches all alone. The dressing is made by pounding some of the fruit into a juicy vinaigrette. Figs are my favorite for this purpose. They mellow the vinegar and give the dressing body and chunkiness. If you’ve never had a Marcona almond, you may not forgive me for introducing you to them. Rich and dense, this Spanish almond variety is outrageously addictive. If you can’t find Marcona almonds, use toasted regular almonds or pecans.

Julie Robles, one of the first cooks at Lucques and later the chef de cuisine at A.O.C., came up with this delicious savory (as opposed to sweet) cherry compote. This time of year I go crazy for cherries and also serve this compote on roast pork or with an assertive cheese like Taleggio.

While living in France, I took some time off from the savory kitchen to explore the sweet side of Paris at Pâtisserie Christian Pottier. Although I was fascinated by the fancy layered creations there, I preferred simpler, homier pastries, like buttery madeleines, crisp millefeuilles, and of course the very French financiers. Invented in a pastry shop near the Paris Stock Exchange, these one-bite cakes provided a quick sweet fix for bankers on the run. They were originally made in small rectangular molds to resemble gold bricks, but financiers can now be found in myriad shapes and sizes all over France. The easy-to-make batter has ground nuts, egg whites, sugar, and vanilla brown butter. At Lucques, we sometimes bake our financiers into round cakes and serve the slices with sugared summer fruit and whipped cream. Try a slice crisped in the toaster the next morning for breakfast.

Call me boring, but I prefer my sweets on the simpler side, and I drive my pastry chefs crazy with my penchant for, well, plain vanilla. When it comes to custards, I’m a particularly staunch traditionalist. So, when pastry chef Roxana Jullapat told me about her coconut flan, I was skeptical. But its elegant and classic presentation charmed me instantly—a snow white cylindrical custard oozing with golden caramel syrup and surrounded by Elgin Marble apricots simmered in Beaumes de Venise, orange juice, and spices. Roxana’s coconut flan convinced me that there’s life beyond a vanilla pot de crème (which is also delicious! See page 235).

Like a lamb shoulder or veal shank, duck legs require a long, slow braise (in fat in this case, rather than stock) to break down their sinew and make them succulent and tender. Choose an earthenware dish or a roasting pan that will hold the legs snugly (the legs should just fit in the dish, without overlapping). Four cups of duck fat sounds like a lot, but don’t worry, most of it is left behind in the pan, and you can use it over and over again, as long as it’s strained well and kept chilled or frozen. You can also store the duck legs in the fat.

After a year of 80-hour workweeks cooking in France, I moved to Boston, where I worked a very civilized 40 hours a week. With so much free time on my hands, I focused my attention that summer on making ice cream sandwiches. I sandwiched lemon ice cream with gingersnaps, coconut ice cream with macadamia nut tuiles, and mint ice cream with chocolate chunk cookies. My friends and neighbors could hardly keep up with the frozen cookie–ice cream combos that filled my freezer. Many summers later at Lucques, local farmer James Birch delivered several unexpected crates of his delicious Santa Rosa plums. We were drowning in summer fruit at the time, and I couldn’t imagine what on earth we were going to do with those extra plums. I remembered that hot Boston summer and decided to purée the plums into a sorbet and sandwich them between chewy molasses cookies. If it’s a truly lazy summer day, you can skip the sandwiching step and serve the sorbet in bowls with the cookies on the side.

Peaches and bourbon is about as Southern as you can get. Drying the fruit before steeping is key—the flavors are concentrated and yield a strong, clean peach essence; fresh fruit, on the other hand, releases its water into the liquid and dilutes the infusion. The only problem with dried peaches is that they will soak up some of the bourbon, resulting in some loss, but it is worth it. Today, high-quality dried peaches are available in most supermarkets, which greatly simplifies the process. When the infused bourbon is tasted straight, the fruit flavor may seem subdued, but mixing it with sugar or sweetened ingredients awakens the peachiness. We created this infusion for our Pêche Bourbon cocktail (page 46).

White Sangria is something you really want in the summertime when nothing is going on and it’s hot and very humid outside. We developed this recipe about six years ago and have loved it ever since. Highly suggested for afternoon gatherings and finger foods.

Blood peaches are large, with dark red skin surrounding a rich, crimson, juicy flesh that is quite tart. They bruise easily, so they are frequently broken down for use in chutneys, jams, pastries, ice creams, and sorbets. We figured this would also mean that they were ideal for making cocktails. The Bellini was the obvious choice as our first guinea pig. We accentuated the bitterness of the fruit with a little Campari while also increasing the intensity of the color. The result is a refreshing eye-opener with slight bitterness and charm. Blood peaches are very rare, fresh or frozen, so if you can get your hands on them, grab them. You can also make this cocktail by blending white peach purée with EO homemade Grenadine for color.

The story of the Bellini begins during Prohibition with American playboy Harry Pickering, who drank at the Europa Hotel in Venice with bartender Giuseppe Cipriani. Pickering’s family had cut off his funds in a last-ditch effort to get him back home and quit drinking. Pickering asked Cipriani for a loan of 10,000 lire—the equivalent of $61,000 today—to get his affairs in order. Cipriani lent him his life savings, only to not hear a word from Pickering for over a year. Legend has it that when Pickering returned to the bar, he ordered a drink and paid Cipriani 50,000 lire as a show of gratitude so he could open his own bar. In 1931, Harry’s Bar in Venice opened and the Bellini cocktail was created there shortly afterward.

This cocktail was first made on a Tuesday with the namesake song from the Rolling Stones playing in the background. When the drink was strained into a cocktail glass and its vibrant ruby beauty came to life, we said in unison, “Ruby Tuesday.” This cocktail combines 101-proof straight rye whiskey, Benedictine, fresh black cherry purée, fresh lemon juice, and simple syrup. Rye whiskey is the native spirit of the northern United States, where rye grains grow in abundance. The spirit was traditionally matured in new American oak barrels and bottled at least 50 percent alcohol by volume (ABV) or 100-proof. Its raw nature, combined with slightly sweet overtones and the herbal infusion of Benedictine, give this cocktail a beautiful long, lingering finish. It is a perfect representative of such classy whiskey cocktails as the Frisco Sour.

Pêche bourbon is simply the French way of saying “peach bourbon.” These two items are as compatible a pairing as strawberries and vanilla. We wanted to showcase our peach-infused bourbon without overshadowing any of its subtle beauty. We blended it in the most straightforward way, with sugar and Peychaud’s bitters, then followed the ritual used to make the classic Sazerac cocktail (opposite): we first “season” the serving glass with French peach cordial. The ingredients swirl together in a slow dance, exciting the palate, then leaving it longing for more. This is a very delicate yet powerful cocktail. It is a great aperitif; it pairs well with grilled meats and seafood; and it is sublime as an after-dinner drink with a fruit tart or cake.

One summer morning, I decided to make good use of the ripe stone fruit I had picked up at the farmer’s market. I didn’t have any brioche at home, but I did have a loaf of sourdough. It turned out that the tanginess of the bread was delicious with the sweet fruit. And amaretto adds just the right hint of almond.

I love this natural fruit-nut pairing and how the apricot juices run right into the frangipane filling.

In this simple dessert, fresh fruit is the star. Lemon juice brings out the sweetness of summer cherries and berries. Any red berries work here—fresh red currants, black currants, and gooseberries are great options, too.

Cherries and mustard may sound like an unusual pairing, but they taste great together. Sweet, tart, and hot, this sauce goes well with chicken and veal as well as pork.

I love to present this in martini glasses like an old-school shrimp cocktail. The sauce has the horseradish bite of the classic, but with a juicy, sweet freshness from the peach. Traditionally, the shrimp would be chilled first, but I serve them warm for a hit of hot and cold at the same time in each bite.