5 Ingredients or Fewer

After dinner at the marvelous L’Os à Moelle in Paris, I finished up with a dessert of housemade ice cream topped with the most perfect, crispy caramelized almonds I’d ever imagined. After leaving, I passed the kitchen window, where chef Thierry Faucher was leaning outside taking a break. I waved, and he waved back. So I got up the nerve to ask him how he made those fabulous almonds. He hefted a pitcher of liquid, and told me they were simply coated with equal parts water and sugar. The next morning, I immediately started tinkering around and came up with just the right proportions for making these incredibly addictive crispy flakes of almonds.

If you’re as wild about sour cherries as I am, you’ll be as happy as I was to discover that big jars of them are available in Eastern European markets and specialty grocers (see Resources, page 237). They come packed in light syrup and are a fraction of the cost of their pricey Italian counterparts, and they’re simple to candy yourself. Once cooked and cooled, if you wish to mix the cherries into ice cream, drain them of their syrup completely (until they feel dry and sticky), and then fold them into your favorite flavor. I recommend White Chocolate Ice Cream (page 33), or try the Toasted Almond and Candied Cherry Ice Cream (page 60). Or simply use one, or more, to top off an ice cream sundae. (Save any leftover syrup to mix with sparkling water to make homemade sour cherry soda.) This recipe calls for 3 cups of cherries, which includes their syrup.

One of my great pleasures in life is stopping at one of the “shave ice” stands (as the locals call them, inexplicably dropping the “d”) in Hawaii. I watch as they tuck sweet red beans in the bottom of a paper cone and then pile on the shaved ice. I always choose lilikoi, or passion fruit syrup, to be drizzled over the ice. It has remarkable complexity and tastes as if every possible tropical flavor has been packed together into one intensely flavored fruit. Then a shot of sweet milk is poured over it all. I slurp the whole thing down, then I’m ready to tackle the surf again. Or, more likely, just take a snooze under the shade of a palm tree. The inspiration likely came from Japan, where red beans are spooned over ice cream or puréed for beautifully intricate pastries called wagashi. You can easily make them at home from adzuki beans, available in well-stocked supermarkets and natural food stores. Their sweet-starchy flavor is justifiably popular and is especially good paired with Asian-inspired ice creams, like Green Tea Ice Cream (page 40) and Toasted Coconut Ice Cream (page 96). I find chewing on these sticky little beans positively addictive.

All raspberry sauces need not be created equal. Unlike the previous sauce, this one is loaded with big, chunky raspberries. It was inspired by a sauce that baking guru Nick Malgieri whizzed up during a cooking demonstration, and I’ve been making it ever since.

I’m a big fan of the all-American blueberry, and why not? They’re so easy to transform into a versatile sauce that’s equally at ease atop Philly-friendly Cheesecake Ice Cream (page 62) or alongside Hollywood–healthy Vanilla Frozen Yogurt (page 49). Or forge a Franco-American alliance by adding crème de cassis, the deep, dark black currant liqueur from Dijon (see the Variation at the end of the recipe).

This sauce is so intensely flavored that just a minimum amount is needed for maximum impact. It goes particularly well over anything sharp and lemony, such as Super Lemon Ice Cream (page 85) or Lemon Sherbet (page 116).

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.

The sweet-tart taste of candied pineapple spiked with real vanilla makes a lovely accompaniment paired with any tropical fruit–flavored ice cream or sorbet. Be sure to cook the pineapple long enough so the juices and sugar mingle together and caramelize to a dark amber color for maximum flavor.

We all need heroes in life. Someone to look up to, whom you idolize, and who does something that radically alters your life forever. For me, that person is Henri Le Roux, who makes caramel-butter-salt caramels (nicknamed CBS) in the seaside town of Quiberon, on the Atlantic coast of France. The residents of Brittany are famous for consuming shocking amounts of butter, most of it heavily flecked with coarse sea salt to preserve and complement its buttery goodness. When Monsieur Le Roux unwrapped one of his buttery, meltingly tender salted caramels and popped it in my mouth, I knew I’d found my hero. To get the same flavor, be sure to use a good-quality kosher or coarse sea salt, such as fleur de sel (see Resources, page 237), recognizable by its delicate, shimmering crystals. It makes quite a difference.

Do you have OSD? When you see something in a saucepan, do you find that you can’t stop yourself from giving it a stir? If so, you’ve probably got obsessive stirring disorder, and you need to curb that kind of behavior to caramelize sugar properly. Mix the sugar as little as possible, just enough to keep it from burning. Stirring encourages the jagged little crystals to join together and crystallize, which you want to avoid. If crystallization does start to happen, remove the pan from the heat and tenderly stir it to dissolve the crystals before adding the water and lemon juice. This lemony sauce is superb when drizzled over any lemon-flavored ice cream served in Profiteroles (page 232), or along with ice cream–filled Crêpes (page 233).

Successful whipped cream means starting with the best-tasting, freshest cream you can find. Buy heavy or whipping cream that hasn’t been ultrapasteurized, if you can. Before you start whipping, make sure your cream is very cold. If you chill the bowl and whisk beforehand, the cream will whip much faster, which is especially important in warmer weather.

I think of cajeta as the risotto of dessert sauces, since it’s made on the stovetop and requires vigilant attention while it simmers and transforms itself from ordinary ingredients (milk and sugar) into a deeply browned, sticky-sweet paste. The first cajeta I tasted was made in Mexico from goat’s milk, and it was absolutely the best thing I’d ever tasted. Since you might not be able to find goat’s milk, or it may not be to your taste, cow’s milk makes yummy cajeta as well. Begin your cajeta in a very large pot, with a capacity of at least 8 quarts (8 liters), since the mixture can bubble up unexpectedly. It should be a heavy-duty pot with a thick bottom. Be sure to pay attention while you’re cooking it, especially during the last 20 minutes, when it’s vital to keep watch. If you don’t stir it constantly during that final stage of cooking, it’s likely to scorch on the bottom. If it does, simply strain it to remove any browned bits.

There’s nothing that beats the taste of darkly caramelized sugar transformed by a pour of cream into a suave, velvety caramel sauce. If you’ve never made caramel before, it’s simple, but do take care, since the sugar gets very hot as it liquefies. Wear an oven mitt when stirring in the cream, and resist the temptation to gaze too closely into the pot while it’s bubbling and boiling away.

This decadently thick sauce is perfect if you’re nostalgic for the incredibly thick hot fudge sauce served in old-fashioned ice cream parlors, many of which are disappearing. I was inspired to use airy marshmallows (which hopefully won’t be disappearing anytime soon) as a foundation by the sauce served at Edy’s, a well-loved ice cream fountain in Berkeley, California, that (sadly) no longer exists.Warning: This sauce is very, very thick!

I love sticky marshmallow sauce perhaps more than anything else on earth. When it’s spooned over a hot fudge sundae, the combination sends me skyward to heaven. Make it for yourself and see what all the fuss is about. This sauce must be made just before serving, as it doesn’t hold well. But it never lasts long around my house, and I don’t think you’ll have any trouble finding someone to help you finish it all up rather quickly either.

The coffee craze shows no sign of slowing down. And fueled by all that caffeine, it probably never will. This sauce combines coffee and chocolate into mocha, named after an Arabian port famous for its coffee. Somewhere along the line, chocolate got added, and “mocha” nowadays means coffee fortified with a good dose of chocolate.

This sauce is easy to put together and is lovely served with any of the dark chocolate ice creams or sorbets in this book. I appreciate it for its creamy sweetness, and it rarely fails to impress. Be sure to use top-quality, real white chocolate, which is actually ivory colored, due to an abundance of pure cocoa butter.

This is my favorite all-purpose chocolate sauce. Although the name says lean, it tastes anything but. It’s a wonderful alternative to richer chocolate sauces spiked with cream or butter, and gets its flavor from lots of chocolate and cocoa powder (an important reason to use the best you can find). This sauce gets gloriously thicker the longer it sits, which I find makes a reasonable excuse for keeping a batch on hand in the refrigerator at all times.

To make the tastiest and most colorful granita, be sure to select kiwifruits that are tender and soft to the touch. They’ll have the most vibrant green flesh and the fullest, most tropically tinged flavor.

Either cantaloupe or honeydew melon makes a wonderful granita. Use the best you find at the market. Be sure to heft a few and take a sniff to find the sweetest specimen.