Fruit Dessert

A rustic whole-wheat biscuit topping complements the lightly sweetened fruit of this homey dessert.

Sliced almonds add crunch to the crumbles topping plump slices of sweet, firm-fleshed nectarines in this fragrant dessert.

When berries are at their peak, use them to make a gorgeous dessert fit for an emperor—or your family! The crisp wonton wrappers are a low-fat stand-in for the puff pastry typically used to make napoleons.

Easy enough for weeknights and special enough for guests, this dessert pairs cool and creamy ricotta cheese with liqueur-soaked fruits. You can substitute two cups of almost any other fruit you like, and you may want to try other flavors of liqueur as well.

Tarte Tatin is a French upside-down apple tart named for the two sisters who invented the dish. This version is topped with puff pastry and baked in a wood-fired oven or by indirect heat on a grill. It can be topped with slightly sweetened whipped cream, or better still with a frothy sabayon infused with an aromatic late-harvest Riesling. The sabayon is also terrific on its own or with berries. Choose a good baking or pie apple such as Gala, Pink Lady, Gravenstein, Braeburn, or Jonathan.

This is John Ash’s recipe for a fun and easy one-dish dessert. Although there is some debate on what makes a “grunt,” the definition seems to be that grunts, which are also called slumps, are simmered rather than baked in the oven. They are usually made with berries and the name supposedly comes from the sound the berries make as they simmer!

This dessert is so simple, yet so tasty. It’s fun to do at a campfire or in a backyard fire pit. Once the pineapple is secured to the spit with prongs, all you need to do is baste it with the rum syrup every few minutes until it’s beautifully golden. The aromas from the syrup and the caramelizing pineapple are mouthwatering! Serve it with a slice of pound cake or, better still, with ice cream.

For those who love to make simple seasonal fruit desserts, making a rustic tart is one of the most enjoyable ways of creating a beautiful dessert. A proper dough is important, but the overall shape created for the actual tart is up to you. In this recipe for an Italian tart, the pears and apples are first roasted until lightly caramelized, which increases their flavor.

This is a very simple dessert that anyone can master. Bananas, pineapple, and stone fruit that is firm and not too ripe are best in this recipe. Grilled fruit also make a great salad (toss in some beautiful cherries or grapes). It’s also wonderful at breakfast served with yogurt and granola. And it makes a fabulous chutney when combined with raisins, juice, and Indian spices (see page 190). So, when you grill fruit, grill some extra to make these other dishes.

This is one of my favorite desserts. Dried apricots, almonds, and honey are the key sweet flavors of the Mediterranean. With a nod to Provence, we top it all with Lavender Crème Anglaise.

Fran Gage is a wonderful pastry and bread maker as well as a cookbook author. She shares her special recipe for a marvelous fruit tart here. It is simple to make and quite delicious with its classic French apple and prune filling. Fran’s recipe for a sweet crust is wonderful and can be used for other fruit tarts.

When our late summer/fall cheater barbecue party guests deserve something fancier than sliced watermelon, we serve Swanky Figs. Like a good barbecue sauce, this dessert demonstrates the appeal of yin/yang balance—salty sharp blue cheese, creamy rich mascarpone, sweet honey, and tannic toasty walnuts. Go ahead and broil the figs early in the day. After dinner, discreetly step into the kitchen and reappear minutes later with a drop-dead platter of edible jewels.

Charred with butter and sugar, Broiled Peaches are a summertime romantic dinner-for-two essential in R. B.’s little black cookbook. Guys who lack strong dessert skills can relax. Broil the peaches early, set them aside at room temp, and assemble the dessert when ready to serve. R. B. likes his peaches with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, a splash of Amaretto, Smoky Caramel Sauce (page 198), and toasted sliced almonds on top. Substitute fruits abound for this dish—you can butter, sugar, and broil banana halves, fresh pineapple spears, seeded melon wedges, and pitted and halved plums. We use whatever is in season. They all taste great with any of our cheater smoked dessert sauces.

Deep in the interior of the island on the fringes of the barbagia is Nuoro. It seemed a cultural suicide, wielded by unsentimental politicos over this past half century, that smote Nuoro’s picturesque and pastoral life. This, the place on Sardegna where Stone Age man first set his fires, the place least contaminated by the passing of the millennia, was swiftly, gracelessly swept away by those compelled to gentrify her. Little has changed about the Nuoresi themselves, though. As best they can midst their fresh new proscenium of concrete, they still dance their simple rhythms, honor legacy and heritage with their reserved sort of gaiety. A sweet—once made only by the Nuorese massaie, farmwives—is now fabricated in crisp, shiny laboratories and sent then, in its handsome trappings and tassels, to elegant shops on the Continent. Still, the women cook their ancestral aranciata at home for feast days, sometimes tucking it into bits of lace, placing little pouches of it at everyone’s place at table, then hiding an old silvered tin of it in the back seat of a new friend’s automobile.

A while ago, I’d heard from a friend about a tart made with oranges from the groves on the island of Capri, it, once an idyll and now mostly a tourist ruin just seventeen kilometers across the bay from Napoli. Specifically, it was the island’s village of Anacapri that was the scene of my friend’s tart story. She told me that the confection was barely sugared, so perfect were the oranges of its making. She said it was all of a cool cream in the mouth, each little bite of it a sensual, sweet/pungent explosion. She said that even the crust was scented with oranges, perhaps with some locally distilled liqueur of the fruit, and that, too, the crust gave up some soft breath of herb, like wild mint or rosemary. But where in Anacapri, I begged, never having seen the sweet in any pasticceria nor read of it on any menu nor found it perched on any dessert cart. Worse, everyone I asked about the tart shook their heads. “Non c’è una cosa del genere qui, signora.” “There is nothing of that sort here, madam.” This bantering betwixt my friend and I has endured several years. She insists that the tart, indeed, exists. I think it some citrusy half-dream of hers, a tart that should have been, perhaps, but one that never yet was, at least not in Anacapri. And so I baked it, hearing her gurglings and swoonings in my mind at every step. Though I’ve yet to make it for her—she living in Oregon while I’m here in Tuscany—I offer it here and tell you, humbly, of its goodness, of its simple sort of persuasiveness. I think it is the pastry I would make and share and eat on the last day of the world.