Strawberry

This is a quick sauce that’s not overly sweet. Serve it over cake, ice cream, or yogurt. Strawberries, mulberries, blackberries, raspberries, and boysenberries will all work well, either on their own or mixed. For a piquant sauce, be sure to use sweet, full-flavored berries.

Sabayon is the French name for zabaglione, a light foamy Italian dessert. It is served warm in glasses or coupes or spooned over a dessert, fruit, or pastry as a topping. Traditionally, it is made with Marsala or port, but it may be prepared using other wines and liqueurs. Use the freshest berries in season. Try all the same berry, or mix them up for a colorful treat.

Forget fancy gènoise or sponge cake; in the South, a shortcake is really just a sweet biscuit. Granted, this recipe is a step above, flavored with orange zest and sprinkled with raw sugar that sparkles like amber on the golden tops. At Martha Stewart Living Television, we served miniature versions of these buttery brown sugar shortcakes filled with peaches, strawberries, and blueberries at a luncheon attended by President Clinton.

Is it a cake? Is it a Jell-O mold? We may never know. But we do know it’s a delightfully light strawberry shortcake dessert that is super easy to make and tastes good, too.

So you think you don’t like goat cheese, huh? Well, have you ever tried it? This salad is a super tasty combination that is perfect for hot summer days when you don’t want to make anything warm. And, if you’re absolutely opposed to goat cheese, feta or blue cheese also works well.

Crepes are one of my favorite French desserts, so of course I had to come up with a way to also have them for breakfast. This strawberry filling is light and not too sweet, making it the perfect way to start your day. Crepes can be kept in the refrigerator for several days, so save any extras and eat them with jam, fresh fruit, or chocolate sauce.

Coulis is a fancy word that simply means a sauce made with fresh, uncooked ingredients. Feel free to change the mix of berries as you wish, depending on what’s available. If you find fresh red currants at your market, the tangy little berries are a wonderful addition.

When I see the first gorgeous baskets of strawberries at the markets, I know that spring has truly arrived and winter is a thing of the past. Since their season lasts throughout summer, you’ll find that this sauce goes perfectly well with any of the summer fruit and berry ice creams, sorbets, or frozen yogurts in this book.

Serve the delicate, rosy crystals of this granita with a pour of sparkling wine, making a rather sophisticated slushie. Or perfume it with a few drops of fragrant rosewater sprinkled over to transform it into something curiously exotic and a bit elusive.

If you’ve ever gone shopping at the Fairway Market on the Upper West Side of Manhattan, you’ve found that the simple act of buying a good basket of strawberries has become a full-contact sport. Never in my life have I left a market with so many bumps and bruises! Next time I go, I’m wearing football gear to protect myself from the combative shoppers who wield their carts like modern-day jousting vehicles, ready to take on any and all oncoming produce shoppers who might happen to be heading toward the basket of berries they’ve set their sights on. If you think this is just an East Coast phenomenon, you should visit the Berkeley Bowl, in California, where people who’ve just parked their Volvos with fading “Make Love, Not War” bumper stickers are more than happy to hike up their drawstring pants and trample you with their Birkenstocks while homing in on their berries. But no matter where you live, I recommend that you take the trouble and assume all risks to find good strawberries with which to make this intensely flavored sorbet at home, where you’re safe and sound.

Creating a whole book with lots of recipes for sorbets means that you run the risk of using the word “refreshing” too often. But this sorbet is truly the most refreshing of them all, so I saved that word to describe it. Each bite is pure, frosty bliss. I use a rosé wine that’s not too sweet, with a touch of fruitiness. You could use almost any blush wine that leans toward the dry side as well, though in saying so I risk losing cred in the eyes of wine lovers and oenophiles. Because of the quantity of wine in this sorbet, it will not freeze very firmly in your ice cream machine and will be somewhat soft when you scrape it out. But don’t worry. When you go to serve it a few hours later, you’ll find that it’s the perfect texture, and yes, very refreshing.

One of the funniest (albeit most excruciating) things I’ve ever seen was a videotaped appearance of a cookbook author making a rhubarb pie on a live morning television show. Just as the cameras began rolling, the cocky, self-assured host looked at his guest and blurted out, “I hate rhubarb. I mean, I really hate it.” The poor dear continued to make her rhubarb pie, but it was easy to see that his constant grousing was taking its toll on her as she baked, bantered, and defended her delicious-looking pie for a few painful on-air minutes. If it were me, I would have taken a different approach. With the cameras rolling, I would have ordered him out of the studio and pulled another person into the kitchen who looked forward to the first rhubarb in the spring with the same anticipation that I do. Look for stalks that are bright red, which will make the most enticingly colored sorbet. The flavor of the gently stewed ruhubarb with fresh strawberries will remind you why this combination is so beloved by almost everyone, including me.

This frozen yogurt is a snap to put together, especially welcome in the summer which is when you may want to limit your time in a warm kitchen. But don’t let its ease of preparation fool you; this vibrantly colored frozen yogurt provides the biggest blast of strawberry flavor imaginable.

Brilliant pink fresh strawberry ice cream is a classic flavor and, along with chocolate and vanilla, is an American favorite. I’m a big fan of any kind of berries served with tangy sour cream, but I think strawberries are the most delicious, especially when frozen into a soft, rosy red scoop of ice cream. Macerating the strawberries beforehand magically transforms even so-so berries into fruits that are brilliantly red. Try to eat this ice cream soon after it’s been churned.

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.

The best strawberry sauce is made from the ripest strawberries. Look for ones that are red from top to bottom and all the way through to the core. If you take a sniff, they should smell like, well, ripe, sweet, strawberries. I don’t always strain out all the seeds since I sometimes like their texture and appearance in the sauce.

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.

If you’re as wild about berries as I am, you’ll find that this pie is the height of luxury and one of the season’s greatest treats. It’s a dessert that I make only in the summer, at the moment when berries are abundant and at their peak. When I lived in San Francisco, I’d drive east across the bay to Monterey Market in Berkeley where flats of berries were so plentiful—and so inexpensive—that I found it impossible not to come home with at least a few piled up in my trunk. In addition to turning the berries into jams, compotes, and sorbets, I’d always bake this pie. A total of 6 cups of berries makes up the filling—use whichever types you prefer. Unless you buy berries by the flat, like I did, most berries are sold in half-pint or pint baskets, so expect to have some leftover fruit, which I know you’ll put to good use. I always did.

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.

This recipe was first published in the New York Times as part of an article on different kinds of shaved ice. The paper’s Diner’s Journal blog asked readers to suggest different flavors, and I had to pick one and come up with a recipe. I chose horchata, a milky beverage often made with rice, because I thought it would go perfectly with the luscious, juicy strawberries that filled the market stands at that time. It’s worth seeking out Mexican cinnamon, as its flavor makes all the difference in this raspado. If you want a stickier, sweeter syrup, add another can of sweetened condensed milk.