Dessert First

Frosty Relief for a Hot Summer's Day

You know what's really fun on a hot, sweltering, summer's day? Licking a blissfully chilly popsicle down to the smooth wooden stick, racing to finish it before it all melts down your chin.

You know what's really not fun on a hot, blistering, summer's day? Trying to take photos of these popsicles before they melt all over your kitchen table and you have none left to eat!

I made these little pops in the middle of a heat wave last week; they were a no-brainer given that blazing sun coming into apartment + no air conditioning meant turning on the oven = not happening. However, I didn't foresee that I would be attempting to document these ephemeral little dainties on the hottest day of the heat wave. So, unless you are a professional photographer with a climate controlled studio and a food stylist at your side with several dozen popsicles waiting as backup in the freezer, what this means is planning out your shots very carefully in advance, taking out the popsicles at the very last moment, and then snapping away like mad before returning the rapidly defrosting pops to the freezer to recover.

As it was, I just managed to get two different setups, so there's a dearth of images in this entry, but I hope they're enough to convey the sheer delight a frozen popsicle can bring. Have you ever held a popsicle just a hairsbreadth away from your cheek, so you can feel the tendrils of coldness uncurling towards your face? Or unwrapped a popsicle, covered in a dusting of frost, and worked to lick all around the popsicle until its true, vibrant color was revealed entirely? Or saved a red-stained popsicle stick after you had finished off the pop because even though you couldn't eat it, the stick is still an essential part of the popsicle, and it reminded you of how delicious it was?

I decided to make some frozen yogurt popsicles, as I've noticed the frozen yogurt trend has gone from latest new sensation in San Francisco to a full-blown craze. There seems to be a frozen yogurt shop opening on every other block, all of them with some sort of variant of "Yogurt" or "Berry" in their name, and all of them offering tart, creamy goodness in a cup.

I confess when I first heard of the Pinkberry sensation I didn't quite get what was going on. After all, I'd already been through the last frozen yogurt wave in college, when the dinner of choice for dieting co-eds was a 12 ounce of froyo from the shop across the street from the dorms. Back then, frozen yogurt either tasted remarkably the same as ice cream, meaning it didn't contain much yogurt, or it tasted like artificially flavored whipped air - suffice to say not my dessert of choice.

However, it seems like now yogurt actually tasting like yogurt is no longer a liability, and people are flocking to the tart, "yogurty" taste as a healthier, lighter alternative to ice cream. Many of the most well-known frozen yogurt franchises, like Pinkberry and Red Mango, originated in Korea, which is not surprising as tarter, less sweetened versions of yogurt have long been much more popular in Asia than in the US. Also, the favored toppings of fruit and mochi dovetails with classic Asian preferences for fresh, clean, not-too-sweet desserts.

The best part about frozen yogurt to me, though, is how simple it is to make at home. It's even simpler than ice cream, since there's no need to muck about with making an anglaise base or anything like that. Simply take some yogurt, combine with some sugar, chill, and whirl away in the ice cream maker! Much of frozen yogurt's appeal is in its straightforward tang; you want to taste the tartness, not mask it. However, you can add more sugar to taste if you want a sweeter, less assertive flavor. I also added lemon juice to my mixture since the citric flavor of lemon meshes well with the yogurt and makes it even more refreshing; it tastes almost like a lemon sherbet, one of my favorite flavors. Also, since you can't have frozen yogurt without toppings, I tossed in some raspberries, which made them both colorful and even more delicious.

If you have those miniature Dixie cups, they are the perfect size for making little popsicles. Just pour in the churned base, insert some wooden sticks, chill in the freezer, and the next day you'll be able to peel off the paper and enjoy - hopefully under a warm summer sun.

Lemon Frozen Yogurt with Raspberries

Makes about 1 1/2 quarts, or about 12 regular popsicles

To get the truest yogurt flavor, use plain yogurt, not vanilla-flavored or any other flavor, and with as little sugar added as possible. Regular yogurt contains quite a bit of water, so if you use it straight the frozen yogurt can become hard and icy. To prevent this, regular yogurt should be strained. You can place the yogurt into a cheesecloth-lined strainer or colander and place over a bowl. Fold the cheesecloth around the yogurt and place the whole setup into the refrigerator overnight to let the yogurt drain. You will need more than 3 cups of regular yogurt to yield 3 cups after it's been strained. Or, you can use Greek yogurt, which has already been strained and is thick and creamy. The more fat the yogurt contains, the richer the frozen result will be, naturally, but the 2% yogurt I used yielded quite excellent results and it's not necessary to use full-fat yogurt (not to mention it might negate its touted healthfulness!)

3 cups plain strained regular yogurt, or Greek yogurt

1 to 1 1 /2 cups sugar (to taste)

1 cup lemon juice

1 tablespoon lemon zest

Combine all the ingredients in a bowl and stir together until the sugar is dissolved. Refrigerate the mixture for a couple of hours until it is thoroughly chilled.

Freeze in an ice cream maker per manufacturer's instructions.

When it has reached the consistency of soft serve, you can either scrape into a container and freeze overnight, or divide among popsicle molds and then freeze overnight. You can swirl the raspberries into the mixture before you freeze the yogurt. If you are making popsicles, you may want to cut the raspberries into pieces so you don't have large frozen berries in the pops.

Strawberries For the Birthday Girl

There are so many things I love about spring: longer, sunnier days, which means I can finally hang up my scarves and wool coats; flowers blooming everywhere, filling the air with their scent (I always know it's spring when the honeysuckle at my parents' home begins to perfume the air with its delirious, heady fragrance); the advent of all manner of fruit colorful and sweet (including my favorite, strawberries - naturally). And, of course, spring means my birthday!

I always enjoyed having my birthday in May; all the gorgeousness of spring always puts in me in a celebratory mood already, so getting a cake with candles to blow out is just a bonus. Of course, back in my school days, having a May birthday meant it was also end-of-school test time, which sometimes put a little damper on things. This year proved no exception, unfortunately: I've been so busy trying to wrap up this book that I hardly realized that oh-so-special day was creeping up on me. How come when you're young waiting for your birthday to arrive is an agony, yet when you're older it sneaks up on you like a wayward butterfly?

No matter - I've been working furiously on my manuscript so I can take today off to celebrate. And I'm also happy to say that the book will be off to the printers very soon, which means that 1)no more late nights trawling the manuscript for errors 2)the book will be out by the holidays, 3)more time to return to the blog (and all you dear dear readers), and 4)I'll be able to share more details on the book very soon! I know I've been tempting you with all sorts of vague references and allusions, but once the book's been formally announced, I'll be able to tell you what's it all about and my experiences writing it!

Also, my birthday is also extra-special now because I discovered a year ago that I shared it with no other than Bea of La Tartine Gourmande!  Bea is of course the most fabulously talented chef, stylist, and photographer I know, not to mention very sweet and charming - I'm more than honored to share my birthday with her!

So I e-mailed Bea a month ago and suggested that we make the same thing for our birthday, and she suggested, since she also loves strawberries, that we do a strawberry rhubarb tart. Well, happy birthday dear Bea! Here is my version of strawberry rhubarb tart, paired with a brown sugar ginger ice cream, all ready for our birthday!

I have loved the combination of strawberries and rhubarb ever since I made a strawberry rhubarb compote to go with an ice wine ice cream. I also love French-style tarts, so what could be better than Pierre Hermé's lovely shortcrust filled with a mixture of strawberries, rhubarb, sugar, and vanilla? Baked in the oven to soft, bubbling perfection, it's an elegant, tea-party version of the classic American strawberry rhubarb pie. The voluptuously sweet strawberries commingle with the barely-crisp, tart rhubarb into an unfettered pleasure on the tongue. The rich buttery pâte sucrée  makes a luxurious backdrop for the beautifully, vibrantly, red fruit. No birthday cake could be better.

While the ice wine ice cream was a quite excellent companion for strawberries and rhubarb, I wanted to go in a more robust direction and created a brown sugar ginger ice cream to accompany the tart. Just-sweet, pleasantly piquant, it's ice cream at its warmest and most comforting, and enhances the flavors of the tart beautifully. I used egg yolks in this ice cream, which, combined with the brown sugar gave it almost an eggnog taste until I added the ginger; next time I might leave out the eggs, but either way it's scrumptious.

I hope today is as sweet and springlike for you as it is for me, and I wish I could celebrate with all of you! Thanks so much for coming to Dessert First - it means so much to me, and I hope for many more years of sweetness!

Strawberry Rhubarb Tart

makes about 6-8 tartlets

Pâte Sucrée (adapted from Pierre Hermé's Desserts

(recipe makes more than enough, so save the rest for another tart)

1 1/4 sticks ( 146 g) unsalted butter, room temperature

3/4 cup (86 g) confectioner's sugar, sifted

1/4 cup (5 g) almond meal or ground almonds

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

1 egg, room temperature

1 3/4 cups (232 g) all purpose flour

Filling

2 cups (about 9 ounces) strawberries

3 stalks (about 7 ounces) rhubarb

1/2 cup sugar

1/2 teaspoon vanilla

For the tart shells: Place the butter in a food processor and process until soft and creamy.

Add the confectioners' sugar and process until well blended and smooth.

Add in the almond meal, salt, and vanilla extract and process until well blended.

Add in the egg and egg yolk and process until just blended; scrape the bowl down as necessary.

Add the flour and pulse just until the dough starts to come together into a ball; don't overprocess. The dough will be very soft like cookie dough.

Scrape the dough out of the food processor and make into a ball. Flatten out into a disk, wrap in plastic, and chill in refrigerator for at least 4 hours until it is firm enough to handle.

When you are ready to bake off the tart shells, take the dough out of the refrigerator - let it warm up a bit if necessary but not too much because it will start melting fast.

Roll out the dough between two sheets of plastic wrap to 1/8" thickness. If the dough gets too soft, place back in the refrigerator to firm up.

Place the tart rings you will use on a baking sheet lined with a Silpat or parchment paper.

Cut out circles of dough to fit into desired tart rings. Press the dough carefully into the tart rings and up the sides, being careful not to stretch the dough or it will shrink when baked. Place the rings into the refrigerator to chill for at least 30 minutes. Trim off the excess dough from the top of the rings.

Heat the oven to 350 degrees F while chilling the tart shells. When you are ready, line the shells with parchment and fill with beans or rice to keep the shells weighed down.

Bake shells for about 15-18  minutes until they are lightly colored and the shell feels dry to the touch. Remove from the oven and place on a rack. Remove the beans and parchment and brush the bottoms of the shells with a light egg wash (made from an egg white and a bit of water).

For the filling: Wash the strawberries, hull them, and slice into 1/8 thick slices (not too thin).

Wash the rhubarb and cut into small pieces.

Combine the strawberries and rhubarb with the sugar and vanilla in a bowl and toss thoroughly to mix. Let sit for about 5 minutes so the fruit juices start mixing with sugar.

Divide the fruit mixture among the tart shells. You can lay the fruit down in a pattern or simply spoon it in, but be careful not to overfill. When the tarts bake the juices from the fruit will bubble out and you don't want them to overflow.

Place tarts back into oven and bake for about 20-25 minutes until the filling is thick and bubbly.

Remove from oven and let cool on wire racks.

Brown Sugar Ginger Ice Cream

makes about 1 quart

1 cup heavy cream

1 cup milk

1 1/2 teaspoons ground ginger

1/2 cup light brown sugar

4 egg yolks

pinch of salt

Combine cream, milk, and ginger in a saucepan and bring to a simmer on medium heat on the stove.

Meanwhile, whisk brown sugar, egg yolks, and salt together in a medium bowl.

Pour about half of the hot milk mixture into the yolks, whisking constantly.

Pour the egg mixture back into the saucepan and return to the stove. Cook on low heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon until the mixture thickens and coats the back of the spoon.

Remove from heat and strain into a bowl. Chill in an ice bath until room temperature, then cover and chill overnight.

Prepare ice cream in an ice cream maker per manufacturer's instructions. Store in freezer to firm up.

 

Tagged with: strawberry rhubarb tart + brown sugar ginger ice cream + pierre herme + birthday

Bite This!

Sesame, Says I

Well, I haven't made those citron vodka-laced chocolates from Alice Medrich's Pure Dessert yet, but I did try another one of the inspiringly original recipes from her book. I must mention that it's turning into one my favorite books of the year; if you remember my shortlist of baking books from a while ago (and I'm embarrassed to mention how many of those have made their way onto my bookshelf already), I certainly would put this at the top of the list. Every time I leaf through it, I find myself tempted by another creation that I must make right away.

This Sesame Seed Cake is one such recipe that beckoned to me from the beginning. It called for black sesame seeds, which I've rarely seen beyond a fairy-kiss sprinkling on bowls of softly mounded rice in Japanese restaurants, a sort of reverse snow-capped Mount Fuji if you will (The Japanese are such masters of visual poetry).

I last used black sesame seeds in my Black Pearl truffles, and I was eager to experiment with them again. I was also intrigued by the fact that the cake took its sesame flavor from both sesame seeds and sesame oil. Sesame oil is a staple of Asian kitchens, and I love the smoky-sweet, nutty scent that diffuses through the air when I cook with it. But I'd never used it in baking before, and I was curious what gustatory revelations awaited me from the familiar bottle of sesame oil on my shelf.

Medrich describes this as having an irresistible velvet texture, and that's fairly on the mark. It has a tight, elegant crumb that makes it a dream to slice, and crumbles delicately on the tongue. As for the flavor, I'll never look at my sesame oil the same again. I was used to using it as a seasoning, to add a supporting note to my dishes, but here it's the star - and it certainly shines. It infuses the cake with its distinctive nuttiness, which combined with soft buttery-vanilla undertones make it a teatime treat both cozily familiar and thrillingly exotic. If you can't imagine what a cake with sesame oil tastes like (and I must admit with my savory associations with the oil, I was both excited and apprehensive), do try it - your taste buds will thank you.

It's such a beautiful cake, too - the black sesame seeds look like stray flecks of calligraphy on an unrolled canvas, or fallen feathers on a snowfield. They add a pleasant, subtle crunch to the cake too -although black sesame seeds are supposed to be more bitter than white ones, I didn't notice. Black sesame seeds can be found in Asian grocery stores - if you can't find them, white ones will do just as well. Medrich notes that toasting black sesame seeds can be tricky, but the ones in the Asian stores are often already toasted.

On the matter of toasting, Medrich also notes that sesame oil used should be toasted, and that Asian sesame oils are toasted as a matter of course, even if the label doesn't say so. I had never even thought of that before - such are the blind spots wrought by cultural differences! To me, sesame oil was always that deep golden-brown oil in the tall cylindrical container; I had never thought about the fact that its color came from toasting the seeds, and that there might be other sesame oils made from untoasted seeds.  Be sure when you buy your oil that it says pure sesame oil; often you will find sesame/soybean oil blends on the shelves. Also, Medrich cautions against using old, possibly rancid sesame oil. I can see why, as its flavor is so prominently figured in this cake and indeed any sour notes would sound out loud and clear. However, sesame oil is one of the most stable of oils, and hardly ever goes rancid. If you can't remember when you purchased your bottle, I might suggest buying a new one, but I wouldn't worry overly about your oil spoiling quickly.

Medrich suggests serving this cake with her Heavenly Honey Ice Cream, and it's a gorgeous pairing - as well as an excuse to use up the rest of my honey. As simple as milk and cream suffused with honey, it sings of fat bees buzzing through sunlit fields of wildflowers, of summer just gone. Of course, this is a great medium to experiment with different honeys - a softer, floral honey would go very well with the sesame cake. Just be sure to use a honey with character - you don't want to use those bland, overly sweet mass-produced ones.

So if you're looking for something a little different, a little exotic...give this cake a try. It's one of the my most delicious - and beautiful - horizon-expanding experiences so far.

Sesame Seed Cake

from Alice Medrich's Pure Dessert

makes one 8-in round cake

1 1/2 cups flour

1/2 teaspoon baking soda

1/4 teaspoon baking powder

1/4 teaspoon salt

2 large eggs, room temperature

2 1/2 teaspoons toasted sesame oil

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

8 tablespoons butter, room temperature

1 cup sugar

1/2 cup buttermilk, room temperature

1/4 cup toasted black sesame seeds

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease the bottom and sides of a cake pan or a springform pan - I find the springform works really well. Make sure the pan has high enough sides as the cake really rises in the oven!

Combine the flour, baking soda, baking powder, and salt together in a bowl and set aside.

Beat the eggs together in a bowl with a whisk. Add the sesame oil and vanilla and thoroughly combine.

Place the butter in the bowl of a stand mixer and beat with the paddle attachment on medium for a few minutes to soften it up. Add the sugar and beat for several more minutes until it is light-colored and fluffy.

Add in the egg mixture a little at a time while the mixer is still running, letting it slowly combine over a couple of minutes.

Stop the mixer and pour in a third of the flour mixture, and beat just until combined. Scrape down the sides as necessary.

Add half the buttermilk and beat until combined.

Repeat with half of the remaining flour mixture, the rest of the buttermilk, and finally the rest of the flour mixture with the sesame seeds. With each addition, beat it only until it is just incorporated.

Scrape the batter into the prepared pan and bake in the oven for about 30-40 minutes, until the top is golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.

Let the cake cool on the rack for a few minutes before unmolding. If you baked the cake in a regular cake pan, invert it onto the rack, and turn it right side up to finish cooling.

This cake will keep in an airtight container for up to 4 days.

Heavenly Honey Ice Cream

from Alice Medrich's Pure Dessert

makes about 4 cups

1/2 cup milk

1/2 cup honey

1/8 teaspoon salt

2 cups cream

Heat the milk in a small saucepan until it just starts to simmer. Pour it out into another bowl and let it cool completely. Otherwise it will curdle when you add the honey.

Whisk in the honey and salt.

Add in the cream and stir to combine.

Cover and chill for at least 4 hours, or overnight.

Freeze in an ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions.

Tagged with: Alice Medrich + Pure Dessert + sesame seed cake+ honey ice cream

Bite This!

Tales of the Elephant Heart Plum

Check it out: this post is featured on Yumsugar and Serious Eats!

How fabulous is the bounty of fruit at the farmers' markets right now?

I wanted to make something with plums before they disappeared, and this week when I went to market I saw a variety that I hadn't baked with before: the oh-so-intriguingly named elephant heart plums.

If the slightly macabre name does not give you pause, the fruit's appearance might: a rather mottled and dusty variegation of greens and purples, making one wonder if they've been pulled, half-ripened, out of a kitchen drawer, or, perhaps, if they are something rich and strange from the depths of some sun-dappled forest.

Cut one open, and they indeed resemble something from a fairy tale: a jewellike, blood red interior that is softly, sweetly fragrant and begs to be bitten into, Snow-White style. Don't resist; the flesh is firm and burstingly juicy, the flavor sublimely sweet and tangy at once, redolent of honey and vanilla with tart berry undertones.

I adore this plum, with its perfect heart shape and rich ruby color, the subtle complexities of its flavor such a contrast to its bolder, more straightforward cousins. Incidentally, the dustlike bloom you may see on them at the market is actually a good sign; elephant heart plums are quite delicate and bruise easily, so seeing bloom means that have not been overhandled. Pick plums that are tender but not squishy soft or too firm either. Even a not-perfectly-ripened elephant heart plum is a thing of joy, but a perfect one is like the end of summer distilled into ambrosia.

After eating a couple of these little beauties, I actually had to make sure I didn't get carried away and eat them all before I could bake anything with them (addictive, as in all the best fairy tales! or was that Persephone and her pomegranate seeds?) These plums are of course delightful out of hand, but also spectacular in many late summer or early autumn standards like galettes, tarts, or coffee cakes. The plums hold up well in baking and develop an even richer, more robust flavor.

I went with a recipe I had been waiting all year to try from Emily Luchetti's A Passion for Ice Cream: a plum cornmeal cake paired with a plum sorbet. She calls for Santa Rosa plums in her recipe, a similar plum that's already had its season here in the Bay Area, but any red-fleshed plum like the Elephant Heart would work, or any plum or pluot that is not overly sweet (those that are both sweet and tart work best).

The recipe is a simple and fun one to make; the batter is thick and puddinglike and does not seem to be enough to yield a full cake, but don't worry, it rises prodigiously in the oven to a glorious puffy golden cloud. Be generous in sprinkling the plum pieces over the batter; even if it seems like a lot once the cake bakes up to its full height it will be quite thick and you will want it to be liberally studded with fruit. Not too sweet, pleasingly light and fluffy in texture with the slightest crunch from the cornmeal, this cake is lovely warm from the oven for breakfast or teatime.

The cake would be wonderful all on its own, but I had to make the accompanying plum sorbet, if only to show off that gorgeous wine-red color of the plums just a little more. It's also perfect for emphasizing the fruit in the cake; the chilly sorbet's intense sweetness and tanginess makes me think of plums in the snow. However you choose to devour these plums, they are surely one of the sweetest sendoffs to summer.

    

Plum Cornmeal Cake

adapted from Emily Luchetti's A Passion for Ice Cream

Makes one 9 1/2-in cake

4-6 ripe red fleshed plums

1 1/2 cups (212 g) flour

1 teaspoon baking powder

1/8 teaspoon ground cinnamon

pinch of salt

1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon (64 g) cornmeal

6 oz (172 g) unsalted butter, room temperature

1 cup (200 g) sugar

3 large eggs

1/3 cup (60 g) milk

1/2 teaspoon lemon juice

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Cut up the plums into small even pieces (eighths are a good size).

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease the bottom and sides of a 9 1/2-in springform pan.

Sift the flour, baking powder, and cinnamon into a bowl. Add in the salt and 1/2 cup cornmeal and stir together to combine.

Put the butter and sugar into a mixer bowl and beat on medium speed until light-colored and fluffy.

Add in the eggs one at a time, making sure one is incorporated before adding the other.

Combine the milk, lemon juice, and vanilla extract in a small bowl.

Add the flour mixture and the milk mixture to the mixer bowl in additions, starting and ending with the dry flour mixture. Beat just until all the ingredients are combined.

Spread about half of the mixture into the springform pan, spreading evenly. Place about half of the plum pieces over the batter.

Spread the rest of the batter into the springform pan and top with the remaining plums. Sprinkle the 1 tablespoon of cornmeal over the top of the batter.

Bake in the oven for about 50 minutes until a tester inserted into the center of the cake comes out clean.

Plum Sorbet

adapted from Emily Luchetti's A Passion for Ice Cream

Makes one 9 1/2-in cake

2 pounds red fleshed plums

1/2 cup (100g) sugar

1/4 cup (45 g) water

pinch of salt

1 teaspoon lemon juice

Cut the plums into small pieces (about 1/2-in)and discard the pits. Place plums in a food processor and puree until smooth.

Strain the puree into a bowl - there should be about 2 3/4 cups.

Add in the sugar, water, salt, and lemon juice and combine. Taste and add more sugar if necessary.

Refrigerate the base for at least 2 hours to thoroughly chill.

Freeze in an ice cream machine per manufacturer's instructions. You will get a very soft sorbet that will require further freezing (about 4 hours) in the freezer before you can scoop and serve it.

Tagged with: Emily Luchetti + elephant heart plum + plum cornmeal cake + plum sorbet

Bite This!

Pure Dessert, Pure Inspiration

When I met up with Veronica of Veronica’s Test Kitchen a few weeks ago, not only did I get the pleasure of a fun night out with a fellow baker, but I was also clued in to an early release of Alice Medrich’s newest book, Pure Dessert – one I’d been eagerly awaiting. Veronica had just taken a class earlier in the day from Medrich at my alma mater, and what surprise did Medrich have in store for her students but several copies of her latest tome, fresh from the printer! Of course my immediate question was, “Are there any copies left?” Veronica, who shares my ardor (and impatience) for new cookbooks, very sweetly had a copy set aside for me when she returned to class the following day, for which I’m happily indebted to her. Thanks so much, sweetie!

In a sea of lookalike cookbook releases, many of them tired riffs on dusty old themes, Medrich’s book is an elegant, assertive breath of fresh air. Moving far beyond her familiar domain of chocolate, she re-examines the very concept of dessert from ingredient up, espousing her new philosophy of simplicity and purity. There are no elaborate, multi-component desserts or fancy, cutting-edge techniques in this book; instead, Medrich returns to the basics and turns them inside out, reinventing them into something new and exciting.

Medrich does what I would love to do all day long (alas, until I find someone to pay me for it, I must fit kitchen time in with the rest of real life): experiment in her kitchen. She takes apart recipes, examines methods and ingredients, and hones everything down to reach the most perfect, purest expression of flavor. Her boundless curiosity and rigorous methods are illuminating and inspiring; like the very best standard-bearers of any field, she makes possibilities seem endless and exploration an exhilaration. I’ve had people ask me, “well, how many desserts could there be? After you’re done a chocolate cake and a vanilla cake and a strawberry tart and a blueberry pie, haven’t you pretty much made everything?” Medrich’s book is a resounding no to that sentiment and an exuberant yes to experimentation, creativity, and imagination.

In her book, Medrich plays with the variety of ingredients, new and old, available to bakers: buckwheat and kamut flours in her scones, kafir cheese in her tarts, sesame oil and muscovado sugar in her cakes. She reconsiders baking techniques and recipes with the mind of a scientist: cakes are made with both cold and room temperature butter; spices are incorporated into batter or sprinkled directly over just-baked cookies; tea infusions are made with both hot and cold cream. Her thoughtful reasoning, and her dissection of her experiments, leads to some fascinating discoveries and a greater understanding of how baking works and how to best use various ingredients in this process.

The result is a wonderfully eclectic, marvelously original, and deeply personal collection of recipes. Like some of my other favorite recent cookbooks (Kate Zuckerman’s The Sweet Life, Pichet Ong’s The Sweet Spot, and of course Dorie Greenspan’s Baking: From My Home to Yours), Medrich’s book moves beyond a mere compilation of desserts to a glimpse inside the author’s mind and her thoughts and feelings – you share in her ideas writ tantalizingly in sugar, chocolate, fruit, and honey. I found what Medrich had to say enormously captivating. She wants one to see baking the same way cooking is being viewed today, as the search to best express the qualities and flavor of an ingredient. Baking doesn’t have to mean tons of white sugar and whipped cream everywhere; it also doesn’t have to mean following the same rigid rules to get the exact same result every time. It can mean using unrefined sugar or honey to give new nuances of sweetness to custards, or using whole grains to add nutty dimension to shortbread, or cooking fruit to enhance its flavor before turning it into ice cream.

Inspired is the perfect word for how you will feel after reading this book. You will be inspired to run to the grocery store and pick up ingredients you had never used before in baking. You will be inspired to look at the ingredients you have in your pantry with a new eye. You will be inspired to look at a basket of berries, or a jar of honey, and think about how to best capture and showcase it in a cake, or ice cream, or cookie. You will be inspired to know that you don’t need to make a multi-layer cake or an elaborate composed dessert or use ten different pastry techniques to make something sweet and satisfying.

One of the many desserts that caught my eye as I was leafing through the book was Medrich’s Bittersweet Citrus Tart with Jasmine Cream. You may remember that she had a similar recipe in her Bittersweet cookbook, the tempting Bittersweet Chocolate Tartlets. Here, they are reimagined in a more elegant incarnation, with a deliciously grown-up combination of flavors. One thing I like about Medrich is that she is unafraid to reexamine and redo her own recipes. There is no resting on her laurels, only a constant drive to update and improve. The new version of her tart has a ganache-like layer of citrus-hinted chocolate in a crisp buttery tart shell. Infused with the zest of pink grapefruit and blood oranges, enriched with butter and egg, the chocolate is as luxuriously smooth as a truffle center and pleasantly tangy to the taste. Medrich places a dollop of jasmine scented cream on top, but I took it a step further and turned it into a delicate ice cream. A scoop of this ethereal, floral ice cream makes refreshing and intriguing foil to the robust richness of the tart.

Pure Dessert should be available in most bookstores by now, so you can see for yourself what Veronica and I have been raving about. As an inveterate bedtime reader of cookbooks, I can vouch that this book has not left my nightstand since I've gotten it!

   

Bittersweet Citrus Tart

adapted from Alice Medrich's Pure Dessert

makes one 9 1/2 in tart or (6) 3 1/2 in tarts

Crust

8 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

1/4 cup sugar

3/4 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/8 teaspoon salt

1 cup (4 1/2 oz) flour

Filling

8 oz semisweet chocolate (62% preferred, I used Guittard 61%)

5 tablespoons butter

1/2 teaspoon grated blood (or regular) orange zest

1/2 teaspoon grated pink grapefruit zest

1 large egg yolk, room temperature

1/4 cup boiling water

For the crust: Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Combine the melted butter, sugar, vanilla, and salt in a bowl and mix together with a wooden spoon.

Add in the flour and mix until combined. You can let the dough sit for a few minutes to firm up if it seems too soft to manipulate.

Grease the bottom and sides of your tart pan(s)  - I suggest ones with removable bottoms to make it easier to remove the tarts after baking. Press the tart dough into the bottom and sides of the tart pans, taking care to spread the dough as evenly and thinly as possible (this is not difficult but may take some time and patience.)

Bake the tart shells in the oven for about 20 minutes or until the shells appear golden brown and firm. Remove and let cool completely on a wire rack.

For the filling: Combine the chocolate, butter, and citrus zest in a bowl and set over a saucepan of simmering water to create a bain-marie. Stir frequently to ensure the chocolate and butter melt together evenly. When the mixture is completely melted, take off the heat and set aside.

Place the egg yolk in a small bowl and slowly whisk in the boiling water, taking care not to cook the egg. Place the bowl over the simmering water and whisk the egg mixture continually until it reaches a temperature of 160 degrees F.

Pour the egg through a strainer into the chocolate mixture and stir gently to combine - try to avoid creating air bubbles in the mixture.

Pour the filling into the tart shells and spread evenly. Place the tarts in a covered container and chill in the refrigerator for at least 3 to 4 hours to set the filling.

When you ready to serve the tarts, take them out of the refrigerator about half an hour beforehand to let it soften and regain the shine on its surface.

Jasmine Ice Cream

makes about 1 quart

2 cups heavy cream

2 cups milk

4 tablespoons loose jasmine tea (leaves or pearls will work)

1/2 cup sugar

pinch of salt

Combine all ingredients in a heavy saucepan and place on stove over medium heat. Stirring occasionally, heat until the mixture just comes to a boil.

Take mixture off heat and let cool to room temperature. Pour into a container, cover, and chill for at least 6 hours or overnight. You may want to check the mixture while it is chilling to make sure it has not become too strongly flavored from the tea.

Strain the mixture to remove all the loose tea. Freeze in an ice cream maker according to manufacturer's instructions.

Tagged with: Alice Medrich + Pure Dessert + Bittersweet Citrus Tart + jasmine ice cream

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La Festa al Fresco: Lemon Verbena, The Scent of Summer

 

I can't believe it's already been a year since the last Festa al Fresco, the blog party to end all parties, hosted by the lovely Ivonne and Lis, two of the friendliest and most enthusiastic ladies in the blogosphere.

My choice of ingredient for this go-around of la Festa? Lemon verbena. I had seen this fabulously fragrant herb before but never baked with it. Once it came into season and started appearing in the farmers' markets, I was determined not to lose my chance this time!

It is nearly impossible to miss, or ignore, lemon verbena when you encounter it. Just brushing by its brilliant green fronds will release an intoxicating lemony fragrance; sharp, citrusy, and herbal at once. Almost involuntarily you will lean in to get another whiff - and then you will end you buying a whole bunch and walk home trailing its heady scent behind you. Summer is lemon verbena; it tastes like sunshine and smells like happiness.

With its clear resemblance to lemon, without the strong acidity of the fruit, so it's not surprising that lemon verbena can be substituted in many recipes that call for lemons. However, lemon verbena really shines when the unique qualities of its flavor are explored and highlighted; beyond the initial lemon impression, it has a bright, distinctly floral edge that lingers in the mouth. Steeping lemon verbena in hot water will create a fabulously aromatic tea that allows you to appreciate the distinctiveness of this herb. Indeed, infusing lemon verbena in any number of liquids, from water to cream to oils is one of the best ways to capture its flavor and utilize it in a multitude of recipes from drinks to desserts to sauces.

So how did I use my lemon verbena, which was rapidly (and wonderfully) scenting my apartment? I chose two recipes I'd been meaning to try, and which I think make delightful summer party contributions.

 

Lemon Verbena Ice Cream

First, Claudia Fleming's lemon verbena ice cream from The Last Course. This is such a perfect, most indulgent way to enjoy lemon verbena - you must try it if you've got your hands on the herb. Satisfyingly creamy, zesty and refreshing, taste it and you are transported to the middle of green fields, warm summer wind in your hair and sunshine on your shoulders. This would pair well with another berry dessert - lemon verbena plays nicely off fruit. Or you can just enjoy another scoop of this ice cream all on its heavenly own.

Vanilla Bean and Lemon Verbena Parfait with Summer Raspberries

At first glance, this seems quite similar to the ice cream. But I thought it was interesting experiment to compare the two. Since the parfait is made with lemon verbena-infused whipped cream folded into a pâte à bombe, which is then frozen, it has a much lighter, mousselike texture that gives this dessert an airier feel. The intensity of the lemon verbena is also muted here; it serves as a tantalizing undertone to the vanilla, giving a parfait an elegant complexity and subtlety. Topped off with some ripe raspberries, this dessert is a most fragrant toast to summer.

Whether as a leading note or supporting player, lemon verbena works its surprising magic. As one of the joys of summer, it's not to be missed - I'll certainly be sad when this year's crop is over and I'll have to wait for it to show up again next year. For now, please enjoy - and thanks to Ivonne and Lis for hosting the festa! I'll see you all there on Monday - this weekend, I'll be at my sister's wedding!

Lemon Verbena Ice Cream

adapted from Claudia Fleming's The Last Course

makes about 1 quart

3 cups whole milk

1 cup heavy cream

1 1/4 cups sugar

1 ounce of fresh lemon verbena leaves

12 large egg yolks

Combine the milk, cream, 1 cup sugar, and lemon verbena leaves in a heavy saucepan. Heat on medium-high until the mixture reaches a simmer.

While the mixture is heating, whisk the egg yolks and 1/4 cup sugar together in a large bowl until smooth and thick.

Remove the milk mixture from the stove and pour a little into the eggs to temper it, whisking constantly. Pour the eggs into the milk mixture, whisking all the time, and put the saucepan back on the stovetop.

Cook the mixture over low heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon. When the mixture has thickened enough so that it coats the back of the spoon and can hold a line drawn through it, remove from the heat.

Pour the mixture into a clean bowl and let cool. Strain to remove any lumps and then cover the mixture with plastic wrap and let chill in the refrigerator for at least 4 hours, preferably overnight.

Freeze in an ice cream maker per manufacturer's instructions.

This will keep in the freezer for about a week.

Vanilla Bean and Lemon Verbena Parfait with Summer Raspberries

adapted from Kate Zuckerman's The Sweet Life

makes 2 quarts

1 vanilla bean

3 cups cream

4 fresh lemon verbena leaves

8 egg yolks

2/3 cup sugar

pinch of salt

Slice open the vanilla bean and scrape out the seeds onto a plate. Combine the vanilla pod, cream, and lemon verbena leaves in a saucepan.

Heat the mixture on medium-high until the cream is about to boil, then remove from heat, cover the saucepan, and let infuse for about 20 minutes.

Strain the mixture and chill it in a refrigerator for about an hour until it is completely cold.

Combine the egg yolks and 2 tablespoons sugar in a mixer bowl and whisk on medium speed.

Meanwhile, combine the rest of the sugar, 3 tablespoons water, and the vanilla bean seeds in a saucepan. Cook on high heat until the syrup reaches 248 degrees F.

With the mixer still running, pour the hot syrup down the side of the bowl into the egg yolks. Add the salt.

Let the mixer keep whisking for about 7-8 minutes until the bowl has cooled to warm, and the mixture is light and thick and has tripled in volume.

In a clean, chilled mixing bowl, whip the cold infused cream to soft peaks.

Scrape the whipped cream onto the egg mixture and carefully fold in with a rubber spatula until fully combined.

Pour the mixture into glasses, molds, dishes of your choice and freeze for at least 4 hours.

This will keep in the freezer for up to a week.

Tagged with: festa al fresco + lemon verbena + lemon verbena ice cream + lemon verbena parfait  + Claudia Fleming + Kate Zuckerman

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SHF #33: Passion Fruit Soufflé Glacé with Pineapple Fruit Soup

My homegirl Mary of Alpineberry is hosting this month's Sugar High Friday, and she picked an appropriately summery theme: Tropical Paradise. It's been lusciously sunny this weekend, but when the fog rolls in, especially on the western side of the city, San Francisco can seem a very chilly place to spend summer.

So how better to transport myself back to paradise than with this stunner of a dessert from Kate Zuckerman's The Sweet Life: an island of passion fruit soufflé glacé in a sweet sea of chilled pineapple soup, dotted with an archipelago of strawberries and peaches.

Zuckerman names her soufflé glacé so (it means frozen souffle) because her airy concoction is made of a passion fruit curd base combined with whipped egg whites, similar to a soufflé, as well as whipped cream. The resulting fluffy mixture is frozen into something like a French parfait but even lighter and dreamier. If you remember my semifreddo post, this is yet another just-as-good-as-ice-cream frozen dessert that does not require an ice cream maker!

As an ardent fan of passion fruit, I found this recipe a spectacular expression of the passion fruit's heavenly sweet-tanginess. Using passion fruit in both the curd and in the meringue creates a multilayered intensity of flavor, while combining whipped cream and a meringue gives the end result a wonderful smoothness and lightness - it dissolves in your mouth like cares melting away on a sunny beach.

It's also great fun to make - the passion fruit curd itself is a wonderful thing in itself, tart and buttery bliss for morning toast, while making the meringue involves whipping egg white and creating a passion fruit-sugar syrup. Sounds labor-intensive, but actually the entire thing can be made fairly quickly, and if you make it in the morning, you have a frozen dessert by evening!

The soufflé glacé is marvelous in itself, but it's possible with a little more effort to make it into a dessert, as Zuckerman does by pairing it with her chilled pineapple soup. Pineapple and passion fruit is one of my favorite flavor combinations - another reason I found this recipe irresistible. Making pineapple soup is the easiest thing imaginable; the most effort you'll spend is cutting the pineapple up, and you'll also have the heady scent of cooking pineapple to perfume your kitchen and help complete the transport to paradise.

The cooked pineapple is pureed and strained - the resulting liquid, chilled, laced with hints of vanilla bean, is sweet, rich, and delightfully refreshing, a nice complement to the lightness and tanginess of the passion fruit soufflé glacé. Add some diced strawberries and peaches for textural interest and color, and you have the perfect instant tropical vacation - palm trees not included.

Passion Fruit Soufflé Glacé

from Kate Zuckerman's The Sweet Life

makes about 2 quarts, or 12 servings

Curd

8 egg yolks

1/3 cup (66 g) sugar

1/2 cup plus 3 tablespoons passion fruit puree

pinch of salt

8 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature

Meringue

1 cup heavy cream

4 egg whites

pinch of cream of tartar

6 tablespoons passion fruit puree

1/2 cup plus 3 tablespoons sugar

For the curd: Make a bain-marie by heating a saucepan of water on the stove. Whisk together the egg yolks and sugar in the bowl for the bain-marie.

Add the salt and passion fruit puree to the yolks and whisk to combine.

Place the bowl over the simmering water and whisk constantly for about 5-8 minutes, until the mixture has thickened and holds the lines from the whisk.

Remove bowl from heat and place in an ice bath until it has cooled to warm. Add in the butter and whisk until completely combined into the curd.

For the meringue: Whip the heavy cream in a stand mixer to soft peaks. Store the whipped cream in the refrigerator.

Place the egg whites In a clean stand mixer bowl and whip on medium-high with the whisk attachment until it starts to foam.

Add the cream of tartar and continue whipping until soft peaks start to form.

At this point, combine the passion fruit puree and 1/2 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar in a small saucepan and heat on stove on high until it comes to a boil.

While the passion fruit syrup is boiling, carefully add in the remaining one tablespoon of sugar to the whipping egg whites, a little at a time. The egg whites should get shiny and gain in volume - be sure to watch that they do not overwhip while the syrup is cooking.

When the temperature of the passion fruit syrup has reached 245 degrees F, remove from heat and carefully pour down the side of the mixer bowl while the mixer is still running. Let the syrup combine with the egg whites and continue whipping for about 6 minutes until the meringue has cooled to room temperature. It should be very thick and glossy.

Place the passion fruit curd in a large bowl. Scrape the whipped cream on top and carefully fold into the curd with a rubber spatula, taking care not to deflate the whipped cream too much.

Scrape the meringue on top of the mixture and incorporate in the same manner.

Pour the mousse into desired glasses or molds and place in the freezer for at least 4 hours to set. I use silicone molds that make it easy to unmold the shapes when they are frozen.

The frozen mousse will keep in the freezer for about 1 week.

Pineapple Fruit Soup

from Kate Zuckerman's The Sweet Life

makes about 5 cups

1 vanilla bean

1 medium pineapple

1 cup sugar

Cut open the vanilla bean and scrape out the seeds. Place the seeds and pod in a large saucepan.

Slice off the top and bottom of the pineapple. Carve off the skin of the pineapple. Cut the pineapple down the center and then each half into 1/2 thick slices. You don't have to be precise as the pineapple will be pureed later but keep the pieces similar-sized so they will cook evenly.

Place the pineapple, sugar, and 1 1/2 cups water to the saucepan.

Bring the mixture to a simmer and cook for about 5 minutes.

Remove the saucepan from heat. Remove the vanilla bean pod.

Take about half the pineapple and place into a food processor. Add a little of the cooking liquid, and process until the pineapple is mostly pureed. Strain the puree into a container, using a ladle to push as much of the liquid through the strainer as possible. Repeat with the rest of the pineapple.

Chill the strained liquid in the refrigerator.

When you are ready to serve, ladle into bowls, place a scoop of the passion fruit soufflé glacé in the center, and add some diced strawberries, peaches, mango, or fruit of your choice.

Tagged with: SHF + peach Sugar High Friday + Kate Zuckerman + passion fruit frozen mousse + pineapple soup

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HHDD #13: Nectarines + Ice Cream Maker = Summer

Hay Hay It's Donna Day again - this time hosted by the lovely Laura of Eat Drink Live. I'm leaving for vacation tomorrow, suitcases still half-packed and the apartment a clothes-strewn disaster, but when the theme is sorbet and I've been rhapsodizing over the pleasures of summer, priorities give way before the seductive purr of the ice cream machine.

I'll admit to toeing the guidelines just a bit: while the theme is sorbet, Laura graciously allowed the inclusion of sherbet, which typically uses dairy but not eggs. For some reason when my eye fell on the ruddy-gold nectarines at the market, I pictured them in a creamier, softer base. This recipe, adapted from Emily Luchetti's A Passion for Ice Cream, uses less milk and cream than the typical ice cream recipes to allow the flavor of the fruit to really shine through.  The result is a sweet, honey-toned sherbet bursting with pieces of succulent ripe fruit. It was difficult not to eat it all straight from the ice cream maker!

Making nectarine sherbet also allowed me to make my very first ice cream cones with my newly-acquired pizzelle press - yes, the Kitchen Gadget Acquisition Syndrome does not abate! Crisp, vanilla-scented, satisfyingly ridged from the decorative pattern on the press - the cones are by far the most delightful  - and delicious - containers for ice cream I've encountered, and the most fun to make. The possibilities for the pizzelles as edible vessels for chocolate, fruit, or other sweet fillings seem boundless and enticingly explorable.

Basking in the late afternoon sun with ice cream cone in hand, oh-so-carefully rotating and licking the cone to catch all the melting sorbet dribbles, slowly making your way down the cone to the last, crunchy, sorbet-soaked bite - what could be more quintessentially summer?

If you'd like some other sorbet ideas, may I suggest some White Peach Sorbet or Pomegranate Sorbet - two of my absolute favorites for summer.

I will gone for the next week on vacation - for my American readers, have a wonderful Fourth of July, and for the rest of you, enjoy the beginning of summer!

Nectarine Sherbet

makes about 1 1/2 quarts

adapted from Emily Luchetti's A Passion for Ice Cream

2 1/2 pounds nectarines

9 tablespoons sugar

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/2 teaspoon lemon juice

3/4 cup heavy cream

1/2 cup milk

Peel, halve, and pit, and chop up the nectarines - you can chop them finer if you want a smoother sherbet or leave them coarser if you'd like to have chunks of fruit in the sherbet - my preference.

Put the nectarines in a medium saucepan with 6 tablespoons of the sugar, the salt, and the lemon juice. Cook on medium heat for about 15 minutes, stirring occasionally, until the nectarines turn soft and jammy and the mixture is liquidy and bubbling. Remove from heat and let the nectarines cool to room temperature.

In another medium saucepan combine the cream, milk, and remaining 3 tablespoons of sugar. Heat over medium heat, stirring occasionally, until the mixture is almost simmering.

Remove from heat, pour mixture into a bowl, and chill over an ice bath until it is room temperature.

Stir in the nectarines. At this point you can chill the mixture in the refrigerator for 4 hours or overnight, which will give it a better texture when you churn it. Or, if the mixture is cool enough and you just can't wait, you can churn it in an ice cream maker. This is a very soft sherbet so it will probably still need additional chilling in the freezer after you churn it.

Tagged with: Donna Hay + ice+cream + nectarine sherbet + Emily Luchetti

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A Sweet Spring Breeze: Strawberry Semifreddo

The last few times I've posted about ice cream, I always get a few e-mails from people bemoaning the fact that they don't have an ice cream maker and therefore can't try making the recipe. In the interest of providing equal access to sweet, frozen, creamy treats to all regardless of whether you've got one of these little babies, I decided to try making that magical dessert known as semifreddo.

Semifreddo means "half cold" in Italian, and like its name this creation seems to straddle various dessert categorizations, defying easy definition. It typically means a semi-frozen dessert made by chilling a light custard in the freezer. To prevent the custard from freezing solid and to keep it edible, air is incorporated into the mixture, usually by folding in a meringue or some whipped cream. This gives the final result a fluffy, mousselike texture similar to ice cream without it needing to be churned in an ice cream maker.

True to its name, semifreddo is softer, less frozen than ice cream, and melts quickly in the mouth, leaving only the lightest and airiest of sensations; eating the semifreddo I made on a warm day was like catching the sweetest of snowflakes on my tongue - a little pleasant tickle of winter to chase away the heat.

There are several ways to make semifreddo: most involve making a classic crème anglaise of milk, eggs, and sugar or a sabayon (zabaglione if we're staying Italian) of egg yolks and sugar, and combining that with a meringue or whipped cream. There are also versions using simply an Italian meringue enriched with whipped cream with no egg yolks at all. However, with all these various methods once you've made the mixture you're practically there; all that's left is to pour the mixture into your desired mold, leave in the freezer for a few hours, and then you've got some frosty, frothy bliss.

The semifreddo I made is taken from Sherry Yard's The Secrets of Baking, and she makes hers with a crème anglaise, enriched with both a meringue and whipped cream, plus a bit of mascarpone cheese swirled in for richness. It's a bit more complicated than most, but I found the result satisfying substantial to the taste and meltingly ephemeral in the mouth.

You can make semifreddo in any form you like - you can even freeze the entire batch in a large container and scoop it out to serve just like ice cream, but I found a trick that works well is to pour then into individual waxed paper cups. After the semifreddo has firmed up, you can simply peel off the paper and have some very cute little cups of cold ready to be eaten.

As we are getting some beautiful strawberries at market, and I am helpless before anything including them, making this sweetly pink semifreddo has been a marvelous way to embrace the ongoing flowering of spring - no ice cream maker required.

Strawberry Semifreddo

adapted from Sherry Yard's The Secrets of Baking

makes about 8 3-oz cups

1 pint strawberries

1 tablespoon (1/2 oz) sugar

1 tablespoon lemon juice

1/2 cup (8 1/2 fl oz) milk

2 large egg yolks

1 3/4 oz sugar

pinch of salt

1 large egg white

pinch of cream of tartar

1 tablespoon (1/2 oz) sugar

1/4 cup mascarpone

1/2 cup (4 1/4 fl oz) heavy cream

Wash, hull, and slice the strawberries in half. Combine them in a large bowl with sugar and lemon juice and let sit for about 20 minutes.

Puree the strawberries in a food processor or blender until smooth. Set aside.

Bring the milk to a boil in a saucepan over medium heat on the stove.

While the milk is heating, whisk the eggs, sugar and salt together in a bowl.

When the milk is boiling, pour about half of it into the egg mixture while whisking vigorously.

Pour the tempered eggs back into the rest of the milk and place the saucepan back on the stove.

Heat the milk and egg mixture over low heat, stirring constantly with a wooden spoon to prevent eggs from cooking, until the mixture reaches 170 degrees F. The mixture should thicken into the consistency of heavy cream, and if you draw your finger down the back of the spoon coated with the mixture, you should leave a clear trail.

Remove the saucepan from heat. Stir in the strawberries and mix with the spoon to combine.

Pour the mixture into the bowl which contained the strawberries and place into a ice bath (made by filling a larger bowl with ice cubes). Let the mixture cool to about 40 degrees F.

While the strawberry mixture is chilling, whip the egg white in a stand mixer with the whisk attachment until frothy.

Add a pinch of cream of tartar and continue whipping until medium peaks form.

Scrape the whipped white into a bowl and set aside.

Place the mascarpone and heavy cream into the mixer bowl and whip with the whisk attachment until soft peaks form.

When the strawberry mixture is cool, fold in the whipped egg white very gently with a rubber spatula.

When the egg white is almost incorporated, add the whipped cream and mascarpone and gently fold to combine. Be as gentle as possible to avoid deflating the mixture and losing air.

Pour the mixture into a large container or molds of your choosing, cover, and place in the freezer for about 4 hours or until firm.

The semifreddo will keep covered in the freezer for about 2 weeks.

Tagged with: Sherry Yard + strawberry semifreddo + Secrets of Baking

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Gingersnap Lemon Sherbet Sandwiches

We had an unexpected surge in the temperature over the weekend - a shockingly blazing sun in a shiny blue sky, making people scramble in their drawers for tank tops and causing all the green grassy parks to be suddenly carpeted with sunbathers. It's supposed to be colder in San Francisco when summer approaches, not brutally scorching.

As I opened the apartment window in the morning to the feel of already-warm air on my face, I knew this did not bode well. Far earlier than I anticipated, I needed something cool and refreshing to combat the incipient heat. I needed to make ice cream.

Of course, what better inspiration than Emily Luchetti's A Passion for Ice Cream? I zeroed in on a recipe I'd earmarked earlier, for some ice cream sandwiches made from lemon ice cream spread between gingersnaps. Icy, tart, lemon sounded just perfect to combat the heat, and gingersnaps are my sweetie's favorite cookie, so this was a no-brainer. Or so I thought.

When I told him what recipe I going to make, my boyfriend sounded a little hesitant, then admitted he wasn't so sure about the lemon ice cream. Couldn't I make it another flavor? Normally, I would have indulged him, but this time I was surprised. Who doesn't like lemon? Tall, frosty glasses of lemonade, jewelike French lemon tarts, sour lemon candies...I was going to convince him to try it!

Upon starting the recipe I decided to make a lemon sherbet instead of an ice cream as it sounded even cleaner and more refreshing. I was very pleased with this version, as it is beyond simple to make - no stovetop required, just a combining of milk, cream, sugar, and lemon - and a marvelous restorative in hot weather. Pleasantly tart, luxuriously light and creamy, it slides effortlessly down your throat, sending the sweetest of frissons down your spine. With my new ice cream machine, I didn't even have to chill th