Brandy

These playful black-and-white cookies have the simple appeal of chocolate and vanilla as well as the universally appealing symbol of Buddhist duality, yin and yang. By giving these cookies as a gift, you get the return gift of delighting the recipient. For the shortening, look for an all-natural transfat-free brand, available in many health food stores. Use Dark Chocolate Plastique (page 134) to make the chocolate side of the yin yang decoration.

Take a tray of these to someone who deserves them—most kids love the look of them but prefer them without the alcohol. Just add a splash of vanilla instead of the Kirsch suggested below. If possible, buy ripe, tart black cherries (like Schmidt) in season. Otherwise, drained frozen or canned sour cherries will work, but avoid heavy syrups or cherry pie fillings. For tips on pitting fresh cherries, see page 59. If you want a shortcut, substitute 1 teaspoon vanilla extract for the vanilla bean.

Here is a silky and easy-to-make chocolate glaze. It creates a thin layer of satiny chocolate for cakes, cupcakes, ice cream, and pound cake. The quality of the ingredients really counts in this one—use your best chocolate and butter!

Sugarplums, made famous by the “Dance of the Sugarplum Fairy” in Tchaikovsky’s ballet, The Nutcracker Suite, is an old-fashioned English word for candy. It evokes the sweet glory of a dried plum, also known as a prune. Lately, body-cleansing properties of prunes have made them embarrassing. But so what if they are healthy? They are also beautifully sweet like candy, full of wrinkle-fighting antioxidants, and charged with fiber and vitamins. In this recipe, with an assist from dark chocolate, prunes regain their rightful place as sugarplums. This sauce makes a fine duet with ice cream or a slice of pound cake (see Breakfast-in-Bed Pound Cake, page 26).

At the moment chocolate melts together with cream, butter, and vanilla, the senses awaken. Taste and texture are the stars of this warm, drippy dessert. For a gourmet add-on, make your own cookies to dip in the fondue.

Because the berries are simmered whole and not strained, this sauce has a chunky texture.

Gina: This light-colored sangria, made with white wine, is as beautiful as it is refreshing and delicious. You can make and serve this drink immediately, but it’s even better if you can prepare it in advance, so the fruit flavors have a chance to permeate the wine.

Gina: Nothing is as warm or as inviting as an old-fashioned baked apple. Our baked apples are even more inviting because we pack them with golden raisins, dried cranberries, and nuts, splashed with rum for extra goodness (or try Calvados, an apple-flavored liqueur from France, for a special twist). Serve these warm, fragrant little gems with a scoop of caramel or rum-raisin ice cream. In the unlikely event that you have a few left over, there’s nothing like a cold baked apple for breakfast, served in a pool of cold half-and-half. (Chances are your sweet-tooth husband is also on to this secret, so don’t be surprised if he beats you to the kitchen.)

Gina: Oh boy. When I realized the importance of Strawberry Shortcut Cake to the Neely boys, I knew I had to get baking and learn this recipe! The first step was getting permission from Momma Neely to make the cake. Let’s just say baking the cake was the easy part! Momma Neely always brought this cake to our house on special occasions. Didn’t matter if the occasion was a birthday, a graduation, or a good report card. It got to the point where our girls would say, “I need to call Grandma Neely and tell her about my report card so she can bring me some shortcut cake.” I like to call it a shortcut cake because we use a boxed mix. But no one will ever be able to tell when you serve it.

Pat: Bisques are the most luxurious soups around. With a base of cream and seafood and brandy, they have a way of filling you and sating your appetite. This recipe is an easy, satisfying version of a dish that usually takes much longer to prepare. A quickie homemade shrimp stock provides an essential depth of flavor. And though the small amount of rice might seem unusual, it helps thicken the soup.

In this recipe, I prepare the zuppa inglese almost as you would a layer cake. Although the method is fairly easy, you may want to try the following more traditional and even easier way the first time you make it. Prepare all the components as described below, but assemble them thus: Line a 13 × 7–inch ceramic or glass serving dish with one layer of sponge cake, cut side up. Brush and fill the layers as described below, finishing with a layer of whipped cream over the top layer of cake. Chill and decorate as described below. To serve, spoon the zuppa inglese from the dish, passing any remaining whipped cream and pastry-cream sauce separately.

This rich French sauce made of pepper, Cognac, and cream is traditionally served on steak, but it’s equally good on pork or salmon. Instead of cream, this version is given body and richness with cornstarch-thickened evaporated milk.

Steak au poivre (steak with peppercorns) is one of the all-time great French bistro dishes. Few things complement a great steak like peppercorns, brandy, and cream. Needless to say, the original is way out of our budget, calorically speaking. At one-fourth of the original calories and one-tenth of the fat, this version will make you wonder why it hasn’t been revised until now.

Chicken and applesauce . . . sounds like hospital food, huh? Well, if that were the only way to get this elegant, savory supper, I’d check myself in!

This classic charlotte or schaleth aux cerises is adapted from Françoise Tenenbaum, a deputy mayor in Dijon who is responsible, among other things, for bringing meals on wheels to the elderly poor. At a luncheon in the garden of a fifteenth-century building where the film Cyrano de Bergerac, with Gérard Depardieu, was filmed, Françoise described this Alsatian version of an apple, pear, or cherry bread pudding that she makes for her family. Starting with stale bread soaked in brandy, rum, kirsch, or the Alsatian mirabelle liqueur, it is baked in an earthen schaleth mold or, as Escoffier calls it, a “greased iron saucepan, or a large mold for pommes Anna.” Earlier recipes were baked in the oven, for 4 to 5 hours. Françoise bakes hers in a heavy cast-iron skillet or pot for less than an hour, at Passover substitutes matzo for the bread, and, except during cherry season, makes hers with apples.

Ever since Ana Bensadon moved to Madrid from her native Tangier in the 1950s, she has been writing to Sephardic Jews all over the world asking for recipes. “My idea is to leave a legacy for the young women,” she told me, while visiting her daughter in Florida. “It is very important to maintain fidelity to our traditions and to transmit them to the new generation.” Many recipes, like fijuelas (see page 360) and flan, are commonly known, but others, like this chocolate mousse using olive oil instead of cream, is a fascinating adaptation of a local French delicacy to comply with the laws of kashrut.

One of the cooks highlighted in a day celebrating Jewish food history and the presence of the Jews in France was Huguette Uhry. I first noticed her intriguing recipe for frou-frou chalet on the Web site www.LeJudaïsmeAlsacien.com. Similar to a light, caramelized apple tarte Tatin, it is traditionally served at the dinner prior to the fast of Yom Kippur. When I called Madame Uhry, she walked me through the recipe and told me that frou-frou means “the rustling of silk” or “to make a fuss,” and a charlotte—or, as she spells it, chalet—means a kind of apple cake. You can substitute Passover cake meal for the flour.

When Huguette Uhry married a local butcher from the town of Ingwiller in Alsace, her sisterin-law lived with her, helping with the cooking. They usually had eighteen people for lunch and dinner, including children, friends, and workers. Today, retired and living in nearby Bollwiller, Madame Uhry is known throughout Alsace as a great cook. Some of her recipes appear on the Web site judaisme.sdv.fr. Here is her brioche, which she starts one day and bakes Rosh Hashanah morning for breakfast, before the family goes to synagogue.

The elegant Gilbert Simon invited me for tea in her beautiful apartment in Nîmes, a city in the south of France dating back to the Roman Empire. Born in Lyon, Madame Simon, who is in her late eighties, married a Jewish “Nîmois” whom she met at a dance. But then the Nazis came in 1942 and started taking Jewish families away. “We left before they could find us,” she told me. “They were searching for my husband because he was a doctor here, working in the Resistance.” When they left Nîmes, the Simons hid in the mountains. “We found a house to live in with our two little girls. The peasants sold us vegetables; sometimes they killed a lamb; they brought us cheese and butter. When we returned to Nîmes, it was very difficult. There were not very many Jews left.” Today the majority of Jews are Sephardic, having immigrated to Nîmes in the 1960s from North Africa. Thinking back to happier and more prosperous times, this is the pâté she made through the years for her own family on Friday nights and the holidays, as well as for Jewish students who stayed with her while studying in Nîmes or nearby Aix-en-Provence.