Food Processor

These light, lean soufflés get their lively flavor from the intensity of readily available dried apricots, so this dessert offers the added bonus that it can be made all year. It’s imperative to use the highly flavorful dried apricots from California rather than imported varieties, which are bland and uninspiring. You won’t be disappointed.

The almond-scented French cakes known as financiers are traditionally baked in small rectangular shapes meant to resemble bars of gold. Unless you’re loaded, you likely don’t have 12 fancy, expensive French rectangular baking molds lying around, so I’ve adapted this recipe for baking in a standard-size muffin tin, which works beautifully—and won’t lead you to finanicial ruin.

With such a strong almond-like flavor, it makes sense to think that authentic Italian amaretti cookies are made with almonds. But, in fact, it’s apricot kernels that give them their robust, nutlike bite. Whatever the source of their flavor, amaretti cookies have a remarkable affinity for stone fruits such as peaches. I often double (or triple) the recipe for this topping and freeze the leftover in a zippered plastic bag. That way, I have some on hand and can bake up a crisp at a moment’s notice.

I’m a big fan of fruit crisps. When I worked at Chez Panisse, I learned I wasn’t alone—they were more popular than our signature dark chocolate cake. But I’m not entirely convinced that I’d choose a fruit crisp over chocolate cake. Maybe I’d order both in the name of research. This fruit crisp topping, made with crunchy polenta, stands up well to the juiciest mélange of fruits. Here, I mix apples and pears, and it may seem like a lot of fruit when you’re doing all that peeling and slicing, but it cooks down considerably during baking. Use a good baking apple, such as Gravenstein, Winesap, Pippin, Northern Spy, or Cortland.

Friend and fellow baker Dede Wilson presented me with a slice of this tart after she made it on television. Believe me, if every viewer could have tasted it, ratings would’ve gone through the roof! The name of this tart is a little deceptive, just as television sometimes is. The recipe calls for almond paste, not marzipan, as the title suggest. (Marzipan is almond paste’s sweeter cousin that’s used for molding and modeling.) Yes, Dede took some liberties when she named her creation, but no matter what it’s called, this tart is renewed season after season in my kitchen.

The first time I saw a fresh fig was nearly three decades ago when I was living in upstate New York. I had no idea what it was. Then I moved to California and saw them everywhere. I can’t say for sure that fresh figs were the reason I stayed put there for so long, but they certainly were one of them.

I don’t have an Austrian bone in my body, but there was just something about the beloved linzertorte, Austria’s cross between a tart and a cake, that seemed ripe for an all-American adaptation. Traditionally, the crust is made with almonds and the filling is raspberry jam. But mine is made with peanuts and is filled with peanuts’ natural partner: grape jelly. Delicious on its own, linzertorte needs no accompaniment.

Growing up in New England, I stayed as far away from pumpkin pie as possible. I did whatever I could to keep my distance from those dubious wedges of orangey-brown filling. For some reason, I just couldn’t bring myself to try it. But when I did, later in my life, I mourned for all those opportunities I missed. (I wouldn’t eat lobster either, which was cheap and plentiful back then. Talk about regrets!) One thing I don’t regret, though, is trying butternut squash in place of pumpkin in my pie. The cooked squash is naturally sweeter and thicker than pumpkin, and makes for a silkier pie. Note that in this recipe, the filling is added while still warm to the prebaked pie shell. This reduces the baking time for the pie and eliminates the problem of the crust burning while the filling bakes. You can make the filling in advance, but be sure to rewarm it gently before pouring it into the crust.

When you have your own website, you develop a thick skin and come to expect all sorts of questions, including being asked advice about marketing $4,000 keepsake boxes for storing chocolate truffles (“Don’t do it,” I responded) to inquiries about preferred styles and brands of undergarments (that one didn’t get answered). This recipe was a topic in an online forum that I came across, and some fellow remarked, “Why would anyone make their own marshmallows? Or graham crackers?” While I wanted to respond, “Well, why would anyone make a hamburger from scratch? Or a salad?” I thought that not getting to taste this pie himself was punishment enough. Personally, I can’t think of anything more fun than making marshmallows and graham crackers, but if you’d prefer to take a few shortcuts, I’ve offered suggestions in Variation.

At one time, everything I knew about Indian cooking could fit on one bindi dot. It wasn’t until Niloufer Ichaporia King came to work with us at Chez Panisse, where each year she guided us through the preparation of a traditional Parsi New Year’s feast, that I tasted authentic and wonderfully aromatic Indian food. My favorite dish was a cake enrobed in a sheet of gold leaf, a stunning touch that lent the dessert the splendor worthy of a Bollywood musical. This is my version of that cake, but I left out the gold, since it’s not something you’re likely to have on hand. I did, however, brighten up the batter with vibrant green pistachios, which should be more easily found in grocery stores than sheets of gold leaf.

This recipe uses canned pumpkin rather than home-cooked fresh pumpkin simply because the moisture content is consistent and no one wants to take any chances with a cheesecake after spending all that money on cream cheese. This is a fantastic holiday recipe, and as with regular cheesecakes, the secret to great results is to begin with all the ingredients at room temperature and to not overbeat the filling.

The Basque region is an area that spans the border between Spain and France, where a strong sense of nationalism has fueled a desire for independence among some of the Basque people. (I recommend not bringing up the topic if you go for a visit.) But one thing that all sides can agree on is that gâteau Basque is one of the region’s tastiest achievements and a great source of pride. I’m an impartial observer, but I am partial to this dessert, which is a cross between a cake and big cookie. But being Basque, it’s naturally subject to controversy: some versions have pastry cream sandwiched between the layers and others are filled with cherry jam. While happily tasting my way through various examples in the region, I’ve enjoyed versions of both, which is a pretty good way to keep the peace. Don’t be too concerned if the dough falls apart as you roll it; it can be pinched together and will still bake up perfectly.

This cake always reminds me of my trips to Brittany, an exceptionally beautiful region in western France that borders the Atlantic Ocean. The often-blustery weather is the only thing that stands in the way of Brittany becoming a major tourist destination. Aside from the chilly climate, the region is famous for its hand-harvested sea salt and salted butter caramel, both of which I would travel to the ends of the earth for. And no matter where you go in the region, you’ll find buckwheat being served in various guises, from griddled galettes to kig ha farz, a local curiosity made by poaching a pasty buckwheat batter in the sleeve of a linen shirt until it’s firm. Then it’s rolled on the counter until it breaks into tiny bits, like buckwheat couscous. They say it’s something that you need to be Breton to enjoy, so I must have some Breton in me since I loved it since the first time I tried it. I’m happy to have this cake in my repertoire because I enjoy the hearty taste of buckwheat in my desserts, too.

Of all the desserts I’ve ever made, this cake is the one that is most renowned, drawing acclaim for its incredibly moist texture and its spicy zing from an overload of fresh ginger. Many people have told me this is their all-time favorite dessert. And whenever I make it and take a bite, I’m in agreement: it’s one of my favorites as well.

One of the pitfalls of having a blog is that you leave yourself open to all sorts of questions. The most common are from folks who want to substitute ingredients. I always want to reach through my computer screen, grab hold of their shoulders, and say, “But I worked so hard to develop this recipe. Please make it just as it is!” When I was working on these cupcakes, I began with the simple idea of individually filled chocolate cakes, similar to the kind I had as a kid, but with an adult sensibility. So I added a pour of Irish cream liqueur to the filling and spiked the ganache icing with a tipple of whiskey, which effectively wiped out the possibility of making these kid-friendly. So please don’t ask if you can make them without either, because the bad news is that you can’t. But the good news is that you can have them all for yourself and you don’t have to share them with the kids.

I’m not a fan of fancy, complicated desserts, but I am a fan of anything delicious—especially when it involves caramelized nuts, chocolate ganache, and Cognac-flavored crème fraîche, as this cake does. True, this recipe requires a few steps to gather the components, but slicing layers of nutty meringue and spreading layers of crackly praline cream never feels like work to me. Like all good things, marjolaine is worth the effort. To make things easy, instead of laborious buttercream, I make a simple crème fraîche–based icing, which adds a distinctive tangy flavor and isn’t so rich. You can make the praline and the meringue days in advance, and the marjolaine should be assembled at least a day before it is served to give the flavors a chance to marry, so you can stage out the preparation. It’s really not difficult to assemble once you’ve gotten the components organized. And I guarantee, when you proudly glide a slick layer of chocolate ganache over the top and then take that first bite, you’ll be congratulating yourself on a job well done.

Skirt steak is a chef’s best friend. Besides cooking up fairly quickly, it’s got a great flavor and a price tag that shouldn’t break the bank. However, I’ve found that traditional supermarkets sometimes charge substantially higher for it than Latino markets and carnicerias, so shop savvy—especially if you plan on cooking for a larger crowd. Use the carne asada in tacos, burritos, or tortas, or atop a piping hot plate of nachos. diced onions, chopped cilantro, lime wedges, sliced radishes, and, of course, more Sriracha make excellent toppers

Several years ago, I took a culinary tour of Oaxaca, Mexico, run by my dear friend nancy Zaslavsky. While I knew I was in for some great food, I don’t think anything could have prepared me for the incredible marriage of flavors I found one morning in a bubbling hot cauldron of chilaquiles. I’ve used the memory of that momentous meal as inspiration for a Sriracha-tinged version that may not classify as traditional per se, but you know damn well it’s going to be delicious!.

The inherent sweetness of corn works so unbelievably well with the smoky undertones imparted by roasting it over a direct flame, you’ll be craving a hot soup even on the warmest of days.

Spain just might be the genius of the food world. While Spanish cuisine certainly isn’t my all-time favorite, Spain sure does churn out a lot of my favorite dishes. Among them is gazpacho, a delightful chilled soup that cries for a hot summer day and a cold, crisp cerveza. If you are unable to find Persian cucumbers, feel free to substitute the English or hothouse variety.