Quick

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.

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.

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!

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.

This sauce is very rich and very thick. If you prefer your hot fudge on the sweeter side, this is the one for you.

A chef once asked me if all pastry chefs were crazy. To be honest, we do have that reputation, since many of us are indeed crazed perfectionists. If we get something in our minds, we’re not satisfied until it’s just right. When I imagined the perfect hot fudge sauce, I envisioned it being gooey, shiny, silky smooth, and full of deep, dark chocolate flavor. So I tinkered around until I came up with the perfect version of this sauce.

Although the official title of this recipe is Raspberry-Champagne Sorbet, I invite you to improvise, and economize, by substituting a sparkly cava from Spain or a prosecco from Italy, which provide an equally lively sparkle. Have a tasting (and invite me!) and find one that you like. Here’s a tip: The one in the black bottle is a good budget option. Note that this recipe makes a small quantity, as the sorbet is better when it’s soft and freshly churned, and doesn’t improve with age. If you’re expecting lots of guests or just have a big appetite, simply double the recipe.

When I moved into my first home in San Francisco, the backyard was teeming with blackberry bushes. Blinded by greed, I was thrilled at the prospect of having as many luscious blackberries as I wanted. But as I soon learned, blackberry bushes are a mixed blessing, and for the next few years I spent many thorny weekends working to thwart the persistent shrubs from advancing and taking over my entire yard. Luckily, the bonus was indeed lots and lots of inky blackberries all summer long. But each and every one I picked was well earned, and I still have some battle scars to prove it.

I had a sheltered life growing up in staid New England and never tasted an avocado until I was a teenager and took my first trip to California. There I was served a salad loaded with chunks of avocado, squishy, pale, and icky green. I tried to spear the offending slices to get them off my plate, but they resisted my persistent jabs and kept eluding my grasp. Now I realize that those luscious tidbits were trying to tell me something, and I regret the loss of so many avocados that I could have loved. If you’re hesitant to try avocado ice cream, let my foolhardy prejudice be a lesson to you. The best avocados are the pebbly-skinned Hass variety. When ripe and ready, the flesh should give just a little when pressed. And be sure to try the Avocado Licuado con Leche in the Perfect Pairing at the end of the recipe. It is unbelievably delicious.

Unlike some of the other frozen yogurts in this book, I only make this with plain, unstrained yogurt. Since the peach purée is so velvety thick, this frozen yogurt has a lovely consistency when frozen.

Making your own garam masala spice blend for Indian foods is easy and inexpensive, and the results will be superior to store-bought. Toasting and grinding the spices in small batches ensures freshness. The blend varies among cooks, and there is the subtle traditional blend of cardamom, cinnamon, cloves, and black pepper. I prefer a slightly bolder approach that includes cumin and coriander, too. Whole spices are available at reasonable prices from Asian markets and the bulk section of many health food stores.

While this relish boldly says, “I am mint!,” it also has a bite from chile, ginger, and raw onion. Lime juice and sugar tame and unite the ingredients. This, along with the Tamarind and Date Chutney (page 220), provides just the right bright accents to Indian Samosas (page 115).

Vietnamese cooks, particularly those from the southern region, love to add creamy richness to their sweets by drizzling on a little of this sauce (called nuoc cot dua ngot) right before serving. I don’t limit my uses to Viet preparations; this simple sauce can grace many Southeast Asian foods. Somewhat thick like yogurt, the sauce can be prepared days in advance for you to use cold, warm, or at room temperature.

A simple, everyday relish from India, this condiment adds a wallop of fresh spiciness to food. Each cook has a different take on green chutney, and many add chopped onion and grated coconut. The straightforward approach here keeps the flavors bright. Green chutney is purposely hot, but feel free to seed the chiles or use a less-alarming chile, such as jalapeño, for less dramatic results.

Sweet, salty, and rich, this delicately flavored condiment unites and enhances the flavors of Cantonese steamed rice rolls (pages 156 to 160). It comes together quickly and tastes great, especially if flavorful cold-pressed peanut oil, the kind sold at Chinese markets, is used. If you use canola oil, add a dash of sesame oil for nuttiness.

A rich, dark honey color, this tart-sweet-savory sauce does not resemble the cloying, sticky, bright red sauce that’s often served at Chinese restaurants. You can whip it up quickly to enjoy with snacks such as fried wontons. For spicy tropical flair, use unsweetened pineapple juice instead of water and include 2 teaspoons of minced ginger and a chopped Thai chile with the other seasoning at the beginning.

This ubiquitous Asian condiment does not need to be purchased. In fact, it has a wonderful, bright flavor when made at home. In the late summer, when chiles are at their peak red color and spicy-fruity flavor, I buy a bunch at the farmers’ market and make a batch or two of this sauce. Keep the sauce uncooked if you enjoy a wild, robust flavor. Or, cook the sauce for a more mellow finish. I often blend different kinds of chiles so as to not create too much of a burn.

Great on their own, Chinese jiaozi get a fantastic flavor boost when dipped in a zippy sauce like this one. The tart-salty-spicy combination adds a complex edge to the dumplings. There’s no such thing as a definitive dipping sauce, since cooks and diners mix up their own according to personal taste. At the least, your sauce should be tangy and savory. But add some nutty, hot chile oil, and your eating experience will enter a different orbit. Chinese dumplings are wonderful with an extra kick of ginger or garlic in the sauce, too. I prepare the sauce in advance, but you can set out the ingredients and invite guests to do it themselves.