Rum

This moist cake combines the fruits, nuts, and spices from the New World that the Spanish conquistadores discovered in 1508. Chocolate was part of this Mesoamerican tableau. Brown sugar and ginger arrived much later, but this cake pays homage to the riches of the original jungles and river valleys.

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: Girl, my favorite nut is the pecan! It is the all-American nut, and once you mix in cashews, you’ve got somethin’ rocking. I serve this dangerously addictive appetizer at my “Girl Power” get-togethers because it’s great with drinks (and because we ladies deserve a special treat). The combination of dark rum and soy sauce gives these nuts their exotic flavor. For a true island feel, and a little kick, use a hot sauce made from Scotch bonnet peppers.

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.

We love the dark, rich flavors of the classic dessert bananas Foster. One time when we had an overabundance of bananas we decided that creating a bread featuring these flavors would be ideal. We used muscovado sugar, an intensely flavored sweetener, to help mimic the caramelized notes of the original dish. We combined baking powder and baking soda to maximize our leavening and ensure a light, tender bread. It’s darned good all on its own, but we’ve also used it for French toast and bread pudding with fabulous results. Leftover bread can be toasted or grilled and slathered with butter for an excellent breakfast or snack.

Maple vinegar is a favorite of ours for its rich, nuanced flavor. Our version is not a product that can be found commercially, so there is a real reward in trying this recipe at home. Once you have it in your pantry, you’ll easily find many different uses for it. It’s wonderful drizzled over roasted squash or balanced with a touch of cayenne and butter and brushed over corn on the cob or a roasted chicken. It’s amazing simply spooned over a rich, runny piece of brie, accompanied by crisp apple slices, or blended with diced apples and jalapeños as a condiment for meat or game. It also makes for a surprisingly balanced maple martini when combined with ice-cold gin or vodka. The possibilities are endless.

During World War II , Claudine Moos’s family hid in Lyon, which was the center of the Free Zone and considered to be a slightly safer city for the Jews. One day, her father, a socialist and Resistance fighter, was distributing leaflets against the Germans at the railroad station. The French police, helped by the German SS officer Klaus Barbie, caught him and others, and they were dispatched on the last train to Auschwitz. As they were escorted away, they sang the “Marseillaise,” the French national anthem, at the top of their lungs. Claudine, who was five years old at the time, has memories of their singing voices fading off into the distance. She was raised by her mother, who had also lost her father at a young age. Despite a difficult life, having lost her father and her husband, Claudine’s mother’s last words were “Life is good.” Even in a good life, food could be a challenge. “During and after the war, food was rationed,” Claudine told me in her kitchen in Annecy. “We got ration cards for the milk and eggs. Of course there was no chocolate. I remember my mother coming home with the first tablet of chocolate she could get after the war. How excited we all were!” Regardless of the shortages during the war, chestnuts still fell from trees throughout France in autumn. This rich uncooked cake would have been made from the chestnuts that were collected on the street. The recipe comes from a handwritten cookbook that Claudine’s grandmother gave her when she got married in 1960. The original recipes were measured in interesting ways, calling for a “glass of mustard” and a “nut of butter.” Peeling chestnuts used to be a laborious task. Her grandmother would collect or buy them whole, score them a quarter of the way down, boil them to loosen the skin, and then peel them. For Claudine, it is so much easier these days to make this cake, because she can buy frozen or jarred chestnuts, already peeled. Best made a day in advance, this rich cake should be served in small portions, topped with dollops of whipped cream.

Baba is the yeast pastry that became familiar in Lorraine in the early nineteenth century and is eaten, as described above, by the Jews of Alsace for Purim breakfast; it was sometimes confused with Kugelhopf. The French gilded the lily, dousing the dry baba with rum—a novelty from America. Today babas are baked and served two ways, in either a large or a tiny bulbous mold. I adore baba soaked in rum and order it whenever I can. After tasting an especially light baba in a tiny sixteen-seat restaurant called Les Arômes in Aubagne, I asked the chef, Yanick Besset, if he would give me his recipe, and here it is. As you can see, a good baba dough itself contains very little sugar, the sweetness coming from the sugar-rum bath spooned on after baking.

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.

This recipe for chocolate-almond cake is four hundred years old, and was passed down orally in one Bayonne family from mother to daughter in Spanish, Ladino, and then French. The accent of rum was probably introduced in the seventeenth century. My guess is that at first the eggs would have been whole, and later separated, the whites whipped to give it more height, probably in the eighteenth century. This cake can be made with matzo cake meal for Passover.

When the French make noodle kugel, it is more delicate and savory than the rich, creamy confections that Americans know. This nudel schaleth or pudding is derived from the Sabbath pudding baked in the oven overnight. Here is where linguistic immigration gets all mixed up—some call it noodle schaleth, others noodle kugel.

An elegant and easy dessert that you can bang out in under an hour.

You can also make these in a pitcher and serve them as the evening’s party drink. They have the perfect balance of tart and sweet. Great in the summer.

Eggs, sugar, and flour in equal measure are the basis of this simple cake, which bakes in just 20 minutes and can be filled with fruit or berries in season.

The key to this drink is fresh pineapple juice.

This punch was originally inspired by a sangria recipe I learned from my friend David Hanna. More flavorful and higher in alcohol than your average sangria, this punch uses inexpensive wine from Spain. My two favorite brands are Protocolo and Borsao, both of which provide a juicy, full-flavored foundation for spiced juice and liquors. The punch has a tendency to be rather tannic tasting, so I add simple syrup cup by cup until the sweetness is just right. One of the most tragic downfalls of a party punch is overdilution, which happens when the punch is chilled with fast-melting ice cubes. I serve this punch either prechilled with ice on the side, or with one large piece of block ice in the bowl and ice on the side.

What makes this recipe special is its lightness: twice as much milk as cream, and the white of the egg whipped stiff and folded into the mix, so it was almost like clouds on top of the eggnog.

This is one of our End of Prohibition party special punch recipes and it was adapted from the Philadelphia Fish House punch, which was a favorite of Generals Washington and Lafayette. We replaced the original cognac with our local Laird’s AppleJack and got something fantastic as a result. We use all seasonal fruits for this—a beautiful feature that also makes it extra tasty.

This was on the bar at every establishment in New York City during the holidays in the Gay Nineties.