I love all summer fruits, but peaches are close to the top of my list of favorites. There's nothing tastier than eating a plump fresh peach, juices bursting. But after eating my fill of peaches, I crave more. I still want all that sweet and fragrant peachiness, but in another format. This is where peach pies and tarts come in, not to mention grilled peaches and peach jam. My new favorite peach recipes, however, may be the simplest of them all: peach ice pops and creamsicles.

If you have a blender and some ice pop molds, making homemade peach ice pops and creamsicles is a breeze. And if you don't have ice pop molds, you can use short plastic cups and popsicle sticks. The only hard thing about making these frozen treats is waiting for them to freeze before you can eat them.

Preparing homemade fruit pops is also fun. My kids enjoy making them with me and, better yet, they love to eat them. So, instead of grabbing some high-fructose Big Sticks or Rocket Pops (although I must admit I do love both of those), my children are licking pops made of real peaches, with all of their vitamins and nutrients, and having a ball doing it. Best of all, they're not just fun and good for kids, they taste delicious.

As with anything homemade, you get to decide how the final product turns out. If you want popsicles with fruit chunks, just puree the fruit until you have a smoothly flowing texture that retains some small chunks of peach to bite into later. If you like smooth ice pops, puree the mixture until you get a velvety consistency. And, if you're in a tart and fruity mood (and who doesn't feel like that sometimes), you can make non-dairy ice pops, but if you're feeling a bit decadent and want a treat with more of an ice-cream flavor, the creamsicles really hit the spot.

As much as I love peaches, however, I don’t limit myself to using just this one fruit for homemade pops. Stone fruits -- such as nectarines, apricots and plums -- work well with the recipes below, but you could also try using raspberries, strawberries, blueberries, blackberries, or whatever you'd like. Just use a little less juice or heavy cream when using berries as they have a more water consistency.

So if you're looking for something to do with your summer fruit, I highly recommend making homemade fruit pops and creamsicles. They're easy and fun to make, and are a great way to indulge in a delicious, and low calorie, summer dessert.

Note: To remove the popsicle from the mold, just dip the mold into a cup of warm water for about ten seconds. The mold should then release the pop.

Fresh Peach Ice Pops

Makes: 6 ice pops

Ingredients:
2 large peaches peeled
1/2 cup simple syrup
1 Tbsp lemon juice
1/2 cup peach nectar, mango juice or orange juice

Preparation:
1. Cut peach meat off the pit and place in a blender along with all the other ingredients.
2. Blend to desired consistency
3. Pour mixture into popsicle molds.
4. Freeze until frozen through.

Peach Creamsicles

Makes: 6 ice pops

Ingredients:
2 large peaches peeled
1/2 cup simple syrup
1/2 cup heavy cream, half and half, or whole milk
1 Tbsp lemon juice

Preparation:
1. Cut peach meat off the pit and place in a blender along with all the other ingredients.
2. Blend to desired consistency
3. Pour mixture into popsicle molds.
4. Freeze until frozen through.

Note: Although I like to peel my peaches before making ice pops and creamsicles, this step is optional. If you don't mind the peel, feel free to leave it in.

Simple Syrup

Makes: 3/4 to 1 cup syrup

Ingredients:
1/2 cup white sugar
1/2 cup water

Preparation:
1. Place sugar and water in a medium sauce pan
2. Bring mixture to a slow boil and stir until sugar dissolves.
3. Cool.

Chocolate chip heaven

Ah, the chocolate chip cookie. A classic. An American icon. A comfort so versatile, it is as satisfying raw as it is baked.

I'm sure we've all sampled our share of this pervasive sweet treat, from those that were passable (but got the job done), to those that reached heights of heavenly decadence.

Chocolate chip cookie, unflattened golf ball version

I had one such cookie lately that made me wonder: What makes the ultimate chocolate chip cookie?

After deep introspection, I came to the conclusion that it must satisfy a trifecta of textural perfection. It has to be crunchy, chewy, and gooey.

I was reminded of David Leite's fantastic chocolate chip cookie article that came out almost a year ago in the New York Times, in which he described this much sought after "bull's-eye" of cookie greatness. When you first bite into the cookie, the crisp outer ring should break with a nice crunch, giving way to a satisfying chew, and progressing to near gooeyness in the center of it all. If done right, you should still be able to feel the sugar granules of the cookie dough on your tongue here.

Resist the temptation to eat all of this cookie dough and you will be handsomely rewarded

And then, of course, there is flavor.

The ultimate cookie must envelope you with all the homey flavors of butter, sugar, vanilla, and rich chocolate. Generous, copious amounts of quality, semi-sweet chocolate in each bite, please!

Now, I've made dozens upon dozens of chocolate chip cookies before, but how come mine just never seem to reach the ultimate level of amazingness that my favorite bakeries achieve? What is their secret?

As I learned from Mr. Leite and his arsenal of choco chip experts, it's all about patience. The trick is to let the dough rest between 24-36 hours before baking them!

I mustered up all the self restraint I had, gave it a shot, and was amazed at what a difference it made. As predicted, my cookie had a richer golden color, better texture, and had a significantly more complex flavor. The extra time allowed all the egg, butter and sugar to meld and soak into the flour so that when they baked up, the toffee caramel notes bloomed. Plus, a sprinkle of sea salt at the end adds an extra dimension to the sweetness.

Use the best ingredients you can. I went with my old faithful, unsalted, European Style Sweet Butter from Straus Family Creamery, and E. Guittard’s 61% Cacao Semisweet Couverture wafers. The quarter-sized baking discs melt well and cool with a pretty sheen. They also make for gorgeous, thin strata of luscious chocolate throughout the cookie.

Use an ice cream scoop to create golf ball sized mounds of dough that are all even. I experimented with flattening versus not flattening the mounds before baking. With the ice cream scoop mounds, not flattening resulted in a prettier cookie that was a little cakier.

My favorite batch resulted in using a ½ cup scoop, creating baseball sized mounds, and flattening it slightly so that the cookie spread a bit. The final product was a cookie with wow factor. BIG wow factor. The perfect thing for a special birthday care package.

Jumbo chocolate chip cookie, flattened baseball version

Now that's the ultimate chocolate chip cookie.

Recipe: NYT Chocolate Chip Cookie, Adapted from Jacques Torres

One of my favorite spring and summer desserts is a lemon tart with berries and whipped cream. This is one of those pastries where everything melds into the perfect balance of flavors and textures -- the lemon's tartness nicely contrasts the sweetness of the berries and the luscious cream ties it all together. If you have Meyer lemons, so much the better as they are sweeter and have a more complex citrus flavor then the standard variety.

Lemon tart with berries is also the ideal dessert for anyone wishing to make a dish from local and seasonal ingredients. Strawberries, raspberries and blackberries are popping up in markets and backyards throughout the area. Meyer lemons are also in abundance right now. You can find them at most farmers' markets, and maybe even closer by in a neighbor's yard (or your own) as they grow beautifully in the Bay Area. If you don't have your own tree, but have seen one at someone else's house, I bet they'd share if you asked nicely and promised to bring over a nice slice of tart.

I've tried numerous lemon custard recipes, but my favorite is the Tarte au Citron recipe in the Bouchon cookbook by Thomas Keller. And, as luck would have it, this recipe is freely available at Epicurious.com, so you don’t have to buy the book to get it (although if you're in the market for a gorgeous book full of amazing recipes, I recommend it). I love Mr. Keller's lemon sabayon because the consistency lies beautifully in the tart crust, it isn't too eggy and the lemon flavor really shines through. Also, don't let the fact that you need to cook the custard in a bowl over a pot of simmering water dissuade you. This is not hard to make.

The Bouchon recipe calls for a pine nut crust, which I have made in the past and liked. That said, I prefer to make a regular butter crust for my tart as I think the lemon and berry flavors are interesting enough on their own and don't necessarily need a nutty component.

This is a great dessert to prepare ahead of time and then serve chilled. Topped with some berries that have macerated in a bit of sugar and lemon juice, along with a dollop of freshly-made whipped cream, you have the perfect seasonal dessert.

Lemon Sabayon
from Bouchon by Thomas Keller

Makes: Enough for one tart

Ingredients:
2 large eggs, cold
2 large egg yolks, cold
3/4 cup sugar
1/2 cup fresh lemon juice
6 tablespoons (3 ounces) cold unsalted butter, cut into 6 pieces

For preparation instructions, go to Lemon Tart recipe at Epicurious.com

Sweet Berries with Lemon and Sugar

Makes: Enough berries to garnish each tart slice

Ingredients:
2 cups berries, washed and stemmed
¼ cup sugar
1 Tbsp lemon juice (preferably Meyer lemon)

Preparation:
1. Wash and hull berries. If using strawberries, cut into slices.
2. Place berries in a bowl and mix in sugar and lemon. Stir and set aside for at least ten minutes.
3. Refrigerate until ready to use.

Flaky Pie or Tart Dough
Adapted from a recipe by Kim Laidlaw

Makes: Enough for one 10-inch tart

Ingredients:
1 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon kosher or sea salt
6 tablespoons very cold unsalted butter, cut into cubes
1/4 cup ice water + 1 tablespoon

Preparation:
1. To make the crust, in the bowl of a food processor, stir together the flour, and salt. Sprinkle the butter over the top and process for a few seconds, or just until the butter is slightly broken up into the flour but still in visible pieces. Sprinkle the water over the flour mixture evenly, then process until the mixture just starts to come together.
2. Dump the mixture out of the bowl onto 2 large sheets of plastic wrap. Press the dough together into a mound and then wrap with plastic and press into a flat disk. Refrigerate the dough until chilled, about 30 minutes or up to 1 day, or freeze for up to 1 month.

Banana Boats

Ahhh, do you smell that? Green grass, fresh air, smoky charcoal puffing gently into the air. The season of BBQs is officially upon us.

At your next open grill fest, whip up these Banana Boats and polish off your barbecue on a sweet note.

This no-fuss dessert is pure genius, and is sure to satisfy any sweet tooth. I owe this party trick recipe to Bartender Bill from Orson, who taught me how to make this ooey gooey and absurdly easy treat. Amazing what a gal can learn at the bar.

Banana Boats

Ingredients:
Bananas (As many as you need. Estimate 1 per person. Once they taste it, no one will want to share.)
Chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, peanut butter chips, sweetened coconut (Or whatever other toppings you fancy.)
Foil

Preparation:
1. Choose your bananas. I personally like mine ripened until perfectly spotted. I think they are sweeter this way.
2. Slit the banana lengthwise.
3. Stuff them with any combination of toppings you desire. I am a big fan of dark chocolate and butterscotch.
4. Line your grill with foil, and place the nanas on top.
5. Grill with the cover on until toppings get melty and delicious.
6. Eat with a spoon.

My birthday is this month, so I have requested a luscious and rich home-baked chocolate cake. And by chocolate cake I mean the kind you can put candles on, not the flourless variety. My husband has gallantly offered to make it, but if he gets too busy, I have no problems getting in the kitchen and whipping it up myself: my birthday, my cake, my prerogative.

I have tried many chocolate cake recipes over the years, always searching for the perfect one. But as with a search for anything great (say a life-changing novel or the perfect kiss), so much can go wrong. Some had a deep chocolate flavor, but were a little dry, while others just weren't chocolaty enough. Worst of all were the cakes the barely held together. Like sloppy kisses, they were well meaning, but a little too wet.

After many calorie-filled attempts, I have settled on a recipe that I feel is truly the ultimate for chocolate cake. Beatty's Chocolate Cake is made with good cocoa powder, buttermilk and freshly-brewed coffee. With an intense chocolate flavor that is both nuanced and bold, this flirt of a cake teases out its flavors and leaves you wanting more. I didn't create this recipe. Ina Garten, aka The Barefoot Contessa, gets all the glory; or, rather, her friend Beatty for whom the cake is named. Take note that the coffee makes the batter a bit soupy (which worried me a little), but in the end, its flavor accents the chocolate nicely and gives the cake a velvety richness it wouldn't have had otherwise.

Although I love Ina and Beatty's cake, I veer from their advice when it comes to the icing. Skipping the chocolate frosting Ms. Garten pairs with her cake -- as I find a chocolate on chocolate combo a bit overwhelming -- I instead went with a vanilla cream cheese frosting. I have found over the years that vanilla makes chocolate taste more robust, and this is definitely the case here. The frosting has the added bonus of having a thick but not stiff texture, so it lays evenly on the cake. It also takes only about three minutes to make and is delicious.

I can't disclose the cake's recipe here -- it isn't mine, after all -- but can share my frosting recipe. So if you're having a birthday soon, or are just in the mood for a good old-fashioned chocolate cake, it's time to indulge.

Vanilla Cream Cheese Frosting

Makes: Frosting for one cake

Ingredients:
8 oz cream cheese
1/4 cup softened butter
1 box of powdered sugar
2 tsp vanilla

Preparation:
1. Combine all ingredients together in a bowl and mix with an electric mixer until smooth.
2. Frost cake and devour.

I'd never thought much of the carrot in terms of dessert food. Before you ask the obvious "But what about carrot cake?" question, yes, I know it exists. I just choose not to acknowledge it any longer, thanks to my volunteering to bake that particular dessert for a friend's wedding several years ago. 150 people to feed and a Barbie-sized oven left me exhausted, but proud of the mission accomplished. I have since moved on. I don't think I'd even uttered the word "carrot" in years.

And then I went to a potluck dinner at a home I once partly owned, hosted by a man I used to live with, and a dog who used to know me.

The theme of the dinner was Cal/Asian, which gave people a lot of wiggle room with savory dishes, but not so much with dessert. Whole roasted petrale soles, rices dishes, green onion pancakes and a host of other items crowded the dining room table. Just off center, however, was a bowl of bright orange that caught my attention, as though I had just spotted Lucille Ball standing in the middle of some crowded Beijing shopping center smoking a Phillip Morris-- a beautiful standout, if a little out of place amid the beige-y, earthen tones.

"I suppose I should have put that to the dessert buffet, but I didn't want to move the booze." was offered by a woman named Razili, who had brought the dish. In my brief assessment of her offering, I hadn't thought that it was a dessert.

She explained that it was a carrot pudding, or Gajar ka Halwa-- a specialty from Punjab, her family's place of origin.

"We changed it a little," she said. The milk, the cardamom, almonds for cashews.

It got me thinking about how, as Americans, we all inherit the dishes and traditions of our ancestors from their various distant origins. In my family for example, it's the cannoli. Every holiday, silver trays of the confections were placed on the table for dessert-- one studded with candied citron, the other with chocolate. While the older generations consumed the citron, the kids went for the chocolate. As the years passed and the older folks-- some of them actual Italians-- died off, so did the use of citron. The cannoli we make today are only with chocolate, to suit our Americanized tastes. They are still cannoli, just not ones my Sicilian great-grandmother would be likely to touch. They are still recognizable, but they bear the branding of adaptation, of assimilation.

I know my family isn't alone in this morphing trend. It's how we as a country traditionally have made anything "foreign" or "other" its own. Think pizza or nachos or just about anything Chinese. We take an idea from one place, adapt it to our own needs or desires (the blander version of something exotic perhaps, made with ingredients easily obtainable in our own markets), and the results are familiar, yet different.

That's how I saw Gajar ka Halwa when it was described to me-- strangely familiar (carrots and almonds), yet exotically different (dessert?). Of course, when it was being described, Razili never called it by its Punjabi name. "It's carrot pudding."

It was my favorite dish of the night. And, believe me, there were some great things on that table.

Carrot Pudding

Serves: 4

That's what I'm calling it. The ingredients are hardly exotic, unless you think cardamom is fanciful. In that case, you most likely don't have Central European, Indian, or Persian ancestors, to name a few.

It's a remarkably easy dish to prepare (if you don't mind a lot of stirring), inexpensive, and really, really delicious. I've changed Razili's recipe slightly to suit my own tastes, but of course, that's to be expected, given the sub-theme of today's post.

Ingredients:

3 cups shredded carrot
2 cups whole milk
3 tablespoons of unsalted butter
1/3 cup of sugar
10 to 15 cardamom pods or a heavy pinch of ground cardamom powder
1/4 teaspoon almond extract
Toasted sliced almonds for garnish. I candied mine.

Preparation:

1. Melt butter in the bottom of a wide pan over medium heat. More surface area= faster cooking time, I promise. Add carrots and stir occasionally until soft and thoroughly cooked. About 5 minutes.

2. At the same time, heat milk in a saucepan or microwave, if you're that kind of person. I am, but mine broke and it's low on my priority list to replace it. Add cardamom pods to milk. Bring to a boil, then turn off the heat and let the cardamom steep. Stir occasionally to prevent the milk from forming a skin.

3. Remove cardamom pods from the milk. Add milk to the cooked carrots. Stir constantly to prevent burning. Continue this form of exercise until the all the milk has absorbed/evaporated. The carrot mixture should be a little wet. About 10 -15 minutes. Add sugar and stir for another 3 minutes or so, just until the sugar has melted and absorbed. Turn off heat and stir in almond extract.

4. Place in serving bowl, top with almonds slices and serve warm. Of course, it's still really good eaten cold out of the fridge at midnight as well.

Do what you will, it's your tradition now.

Happy (post-) Purim. I should have written this post last week but, frankly, I forgot all about Purim this year. I'm not good with dates. And I'm not a Jew, though I have been told many times by Jewish friends that I am, in fact, Jew-ish.

And that makes me exceptionally happy.

Now, I bet you are wondering, "Why the photo of the lady with the enormous décolletage and the even more enormous hat? What on earth does it have to do with Purim or those delicious, Purim-related delicacies, Hamantaschen?"

Please let me explain...

Nine years ago this month, I had never even heard of Purim until I received a phone call from my friend Tricia.

"Are you free tonight?" she asked. "Want to go to a Purim party?"

I said yes, of course. And then I asked, "What the hell is a Purim party?"

She admitted that she really had no idea. As a Mexican-Scottish agnostic, she wasn't exactly up on Jewish religious tradition. Her fiancé was, however, in his second year of Rabbinical school and she was boning up on her holidays. She told me that, unlike Yom Kippur, this was one of the fun holidays, where people dressed up, ate, drank, and made a lot of noise. Being rather good at all of the above, I became rather excited about it-- especially when she told me we needed to go in costume.

I had approximately six hours to come up with costumes for the two of us to attend a party at a temple in which I'd never been, celebrating a holiday I never knew existed. I did a little research, called her back and said, "Just show up here at six in a black turtleneck."

For those of you who still don't know what Purim is about, let me explain as briefly as possible.

Purim, for Dummies

Purim is a rather joyous holiday-- one celebrating the Jews' deliverance from extermination by the King of Persia's evil advisor, Haman. Haman despised the Jews because of their otherness-- they refused to bow to him, the king, or anyone but their own God.

Fortunately, the king's favorite wife, Esther (who was the adopted daughter of Mordecai, a man who once saved the the king by revealing a plot against his life) was a Jew, though closeted at the request of her father. When Esther learned of Haman's plans to exterminate her people, she revealed herself as a Jew and argued that, should Haman have his way, both she (his favorite wife) and Mordecai (his savior) would be murdered as a result. Tables were turned, Haman was himself killed, and the Jews were allowed to exact reprisals upon Haman's people-- essentially freeing themselves from their famous Babylonian Captivity.

It's amazing how freeing coming out of the closet can be, whatever one's secret. In this case, quite literally.

Oh, It Needs a Hat

I was at a loss as to what to wear to the party. How many Esthers, Mordecais, and Hamans would show up? I imagined people with a poor grasp on historical costuming showing up in togas or basic burlap. Thanks to a little time and Googling, I came across several recipes for Purim cookies, or Hamantaschen, which are supposed to represent Haman's hat or, as some would argue, ears.

As a literal-minded man who loves to put things on his head, I found the notion of making a hat-inspired cookie into a cookie-inspired hat rather delicious. I spent the rest of the afternoon making giant Hamantaschen headwear.

Dressed as The Hamantaschen Twins, Tricia and I were a hit at Temple Sha'ar Zahav. After the noise-making and game show-themed events, the evening culminated in costume judging. We came in second place, much to our delight, beating out the less-inspiring costumes and, inexplicably, a woman wearing a giant vagina suit. I have since blotted from my memory the costume which stole our thunder.

We celebrated by strolling into the Castro wearing our hats. Most of the people on the street looked at us with utter confusion. A few people, however, smiled and gave us the thumbs up sign. "Jews," we thought, "They dig us."

We settled into a bar table at Harvey's, where I drank my first, second, third, fourth, and last ever Lemon Drop. Why? Because we were wearing big hats, that's why. We chatted up a table of gay softball players next to us. I was rather (unsuccessfully) fixated on one fellow there celebrating his birthday. Tricia was occupied by another, more interesting gentleman. When a drag queen handed us pencils and stapled sheets of copy paper, we realized it was trivia night, so we in our giant hats joined tables and forces with the jocks.

And, this time, there was no second place for us-- we won, even though none of us could name more than one porn star out of the many represented on our test papers. Fortunately, we were good at geography and disco hits of the 1970's.

I went home that evening rather high from all the contest-winning and Lemon Drops, but I came away with much more than that-- I met one of the best friends I've ever had that night chatting and playing trivia games, all the while savoring the time I was able to share with one of my oldest friends-- a girl who, at 13, I asked to go to Europe with me as gravely as any other shy boy might ask another girl to go to the prom.

And all thanks to our giant, conversation-starting Hamantaschen hats.

The hat was somewhat worse for wear by the time I gave it to my next door neighbor-- a Jew who loved playing dress up more than any straight man I've ever met. God only knows whatever became of it. Or him. Fortunately, the friendships are still around, however tattered and frayed by life and stress and distance they may have become at times. They are sometimes shelved, but they are always there. A little more glue or glitter or TLC, and they are as good as new-- more durable than any styrofoam, brown paper, and satin that a hot glue gun could ever put together. I'd be a fool to give those two away like I did that damned hat. I don't care how many cookies you offered me.

Hamantaschen

In German, the word tasche means "pocket", which is essentially what these cookies are all about-- there is a pocket made for jams or other pastes like those made of poppy seeds or prunes (lekvar). How they are meant to represent a hat worn by Haman, I have no idea. Three cornered hats were favored by European gentlemen of the 18th Century C.E., not Central Asian ones in the 6th Century B.C.E.. The European Jews of the 18th Century may not have had much of a knack for historically-appropriate head gear, but they did come up with a rather delicious cookie.

While trawling for recipes, I landed on the one that sounded the most delicious (to me)-- that of a very popular food blogger who shall not be cited here. There was something about her non-traditional use of both butter and (especially) cream cheese in the dough that told me these were the ones to bake.

They didn't turn out so well.

While they were as delicious and tender as I suspected they would be, I followed the recipe too blindly as I am wont to do whenever I bake anything new. I should have read all the comments attatched to the post before my baking venture to get a little more insight. For example, the dough should have been rolled more thinly, too much jam (even for this jam lover) in the center, the oven temperature was not high enough, and the baking time, which was suggested at 20 minutes, was more like 30. Oh, lots of problems, but that is another blog topic altogether. Sadly, the walls of these little Jerichos came tumbling down with the weight of all that bubbling confiture. Some of them looked remarkably like gaping wounds. But, like I said, they tasted rather good.

Of course, it could have been my own, simple lameness. But I very much doubt it.

I should have stayed with Mark Bittman.

It's Spring, which means it's Girl Scout cookie season. Little Girl Scouts and Brownies everywhere are marching door to door selling boxes of Americana. If you live a few flights up or don't have any Girl Scouts in your neighborhood, you may have escaped the door-to-door sales period, but I would be surprised if you haven't encountered little green- or brown-vested girls somewhere else. Rosy-cheeked and armed with multi-hued boxes, they sit at card tables in front of your local hardware or grocery store, at parks, or near the door of your morning coffee spot ready to sell Thin Mints and Do-Si-Dos. You may even work with people who push cookies for their daughters at the office. The Girl Scouts and Brownies are everywhere this time of year, and many of us can't dodge buying a box or two (or ten). I mean, who can turn down a cute little 8-year old girl selling cookies to pay for the big end-of-year campout?

So each year I find myself with boxes of Samoas, Lemon Chalet Cremes, and Tagalongs, to go with the ever popular Thin Mints and Do-Si-Dos. But here's the problem: I hate Girl Scout cookies.

Don’t get me wrong. I don't hate the Girls Scouts of America. Unlike the Boy Scouts, with their appalling homophobia issues, the Girl Scouts are quite likable. The organization works to empower girls of all ages, which I think is great. My daughters were Brownies for a couple of years, and if the meeting time hadn't interfered with piano lessons, they would still be in their old troop hawking their own boxes of cookies.

My dislike of Girl Scout cookies has nothing to do with the Girl Scout organization itself and everything to do with the actual cookies. They're just not very good. Actually, they're awful. Whenever I see people look genuinely excited to get their boxes, I am confused. The chocolate in the Thin Mints and Samoas is waxy, while the Samoas themselves are so overtly sweet they make me nauseous. Trefoils are sort of like shortbread, but without the great buttery taste, so why bother? The Do-Si-Dos, which are peanut butter cookies, are probably the best of the bunch, but even they're a poor facsimile of what a real peanut butter cookie should taste like. And don't even get me started about the partially hydrogenated oils in every box.

I have kept my feelings about Girl Scout cookies bottled up for years as detesting them seems tantamount to hating grandma and apple pie. But I need to be brave and stop living a lie. So I am shouting it from the rooftops (or rather my computer). I hate Girl Scout cookies! There is nothing tasty about them and I'm tired of pretending Thin Mints are a treat. If this organization is going to bombard us with cute kids selling plastic-wrapped confections, can't the cookies at least taste good?

Maybe they really aren't all that bad and I'm just turning into a crabby old lady. The next thing you know I'll be screaming at the kids to get off my lawn. Okay, it felt good to get that off my chest. That said, I'm sure I'll be buying more boxes next year.

Turnovers are often forgotten in the dessert world. Tarts and pies steal the show when it comes to articles, cookbook recipes, and blogs, but turnovers are just as sweet and delicious, and portable to boot. Like their bigger and more prevalent cousins, turnovers are simply cooked fruit encased in buttery pastry dough. Yet unlike the tart and pie, you don’t need to slice them, set them on a plate, or make a presentation out of serving them. Sure you could plop some ice cream or whipped cream next to one and set a mint leaf on it, but you could just as easily wrap it in a napkin and stick it in your pocket for later. This is why turnovers (both the savory and sweet variety) are also referred to as pocket pies.

Portability makes turnovers the perfect dessert for a variety of occasions. They're a great choice for parties where people will be milling about instead of sitting down. They're also ideal for putting in kids' lunches, packing for picnics, or taking on car or airline trips. But you don't need an occasion to make turnovers; they're great any time.

Turnovers are incomparably delicious when made with homemade puff pastry, but very few of us have the time or inclination to make puff pastry from scratch. Although you can create a nice turnover with homemade pie crust, I prefer puff pastry's flaky texture for the finished product and so I opt for frozen store-bought sheets. If you have time to make your own puff pastry or know of a shop where you can buy it, you'll be in for an extravagant indulgence when you bite into your luscious turnover. But if you're like me and usually have only the frozen stuff available, you will still reap the rewards of a buttery and fruity treat.

To make fruit turnovers, simply create a bowlful of whatever pie filling you like most. I am partial to apple and cherry turnovers, but blueberries, pecans, and pureed pumpkin are also great fillings. Anything you would stick into a baked pie or tart will work. You then scoop the filling into cut pieces of puff pastry, seal and bake. That's it.

There's no reason dessert has to be a plated affair. So the next time you're taking a road trip, want to put something extra special in your child's lunch, or you're simply in the mood for a sweet pocket pie, make some very easy and delicious turnovers.

A few tips to making turnovers:
1. You can cut your dough into circles or squares to make either half moon or triangle turnovers.
2. Overstuffing the dough will make the turnovers pop open and the juices will all ooze out, so be careful to leave room for crimping the edges of the dough.
3. If your dough is dry, you may want to seal the edges with an egg wash.
4. If you want your turnovers to be glossy, brush with an egg wash before baking.
5. Sprinkling sugar on the outside gives the turnovers a sweet crispness.
6. To perk up cold turnovers, simply warm them in a heated oven for about five minutes. This will recrisp the outside and warm the fruit filling.

Apple Turnovers

Makes: 9 turnovers

Turnover Ingredients:
1 sheet frozen puff pastry
2 cups diced apples cut into 1/4-inch squares (you can use Granny Smith, Fuji, Golden Delicious or any other firm apple)
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 Tbsp flour
1 tsp lemon juice
1/2 tsp cinnamon

Topping Ingredients:
1 egg scrambled
2 Tbsp white sugar

Preparation:
1. Bring puff pastry to room temperature.
2. Preheat oven to 350 degrees.
3. Cut up apples and place in a bowl with the lemon juice so they don't become brown.
4. Combine apples with sugar, flour and cinnamon.
5. Roll out pastry dough on a lightly floured surface into a 12- by 12-inch square and then cut it into 9 equal pieces.
6. Scoop apple mixture onto the lower half of each square, being sure not to overfill.
7. Turn the upper half of the dough over the apple mixture and pinch the ends. If the dough doesn't seal, you can lightly coat the edges with an egg wash and then press them down.
8. Lay the filled dough onto a baking sheet and coat each turnover with an egg wash and sprinkle with sugar.
9. Place the baking sheet in the oven for 12 - 18 minutes, or until golden brown.
10. Serve immediately or store for later use.

I've been spending entirely too much time watching episodes of The French Chef with Julia Child that my friend Craig gave me.

I find Mrs. Child oddly hypnotic. There is something about her uniquely-accented voice and the not-entirely graceful movement of her formerly 6' 2" body that compels me to watch her.

And watch her I do. Over and over again.

This week, I've been enjoying an early, black and white episode wherein she gives a champagne and coffee party in honor of:

"...the Queen of Sheba, which turns out to be this dark beauty, made of chocolate, and almonds, and rum, and butter!"

She then invites us into her kitchen where she promises we'll make:

"the best chocolate cake you ever put in your mouth."

That's one heavy promise, but I love her enthusiasm.

I decided to put my money where Mrs. Child's mouth is and examine this cake and the woman behind it, however superficially.

And one or two other things, of course.

First, there is the name:
The Queen of Sheba

The legend of the Queen of Sheba can be found in both the Old Testament and the Qur'an. As a polytheist monarch of tremendous wealth and wisdom, she was intrigued by King Solomon of Israel, who was famous for his own wealth and wisdom, plus the odd little fact that he and his people worshipped only one god (1 Kings 10:1-13). She set off to visit him, laden with spices, gold, jewels, and a series of riddles to test his alleged wisdom. She was more or less awed by him, and he rather impressed with her. She returned to her southern Kingdom with "all that her heart desired", including a new, solitary god.

Despite what the vampy costume of Betty Blythe might suggest in her 1921 epic The Queen of Sheba, most accounts suggest that the relationship between Solomon and herself were of a respectful, intellectual nature.

Most.

Unless you choose to believe the Ethiopians. They claim her as their own. In fact, the legitimacy of their nearly 3,000-year, dynasty was founded on the belief that Solomon gave her slightly more than gold and jewelry as a parting gift.

Whatever you choose to believe, it is clear why the "best chocolate cake you ever put in your mouth" was named after her-- she was dark, rich, and sophisticated. A queen fit for the queen of cakes.

Of course, I couldn't end it there. Not with Oscar season around the corner. Nor an obvious tangent staring me in the face.

Come Back, Little Sheba

One of the few vintage, Oscar-winning performances I have yet to see is that of Miss Shirley Booth's turn as Lola Delaney in Comeback, Little Sheba from 1952. The dowdy, shuffling, and unambitious Lola and her husband "Doc" (played by Burt Lancaster) are 20 years into a loveless, shotgun marriage. The baby was lost and both find comfort in their own particular ways; he with alcohol, she with a little dog named "Sheba" on whom she lavishes all of her attention until it runs away from her, most likely from fear of emotional smothering.

And that's before the film even begins. I won't give the rest of the plot away, most likely since I have no idea what happens next. I'm hoping it's some kind of sex comedy, but my hopes aren't aimed too high, since films about deep regret and personal failings aren't generally funny. Or sexy.

In stretching the limits of credibility, I have begun to think of this cake as somewhat appropriately linked to this film. Both are reportedly richly-layered, slightly crestfallen, alcoholic, and a bit nutty.

Almonds, you know.

Which leads to a warning to keep one's logical stream-of-consciousness in check. Miss Booth may have won the Academy Award for her performance in Come Back, Little Sheba, but her biggest success came later as the star of the popular 1960's situation comedy Hazel, in which she played the title role of a dictatorial-yet-endearing live-in housemaid.

Though critics have complained that the show was contrived and only "mildly amusing," Hazel does have her die-hard fans, who are referred to as "hazelnuts." Irritating, certainly.

The evident danger here is heaping too much honor upon Miss Booth by substituting the above-mentioned nuts for the traditional almonds, but that would be another cake entirely.

Little Shebas

I still intend to honor Miss Booth. Or at least the dog who had sense enough to run away from her emotionally-starved owner by making this major player in the classic repretoire of chocolate desserts into a minor figure size-wise, while still keeping the integrity of the classic recipe.

I have omitted the chocolate glaze used by many recipes, including Julia Child's. I simply think it's gilding an already-perfect lily. Oh, and I'm lazy. It is a rich cake, with a slightly gooey, warm center. More chocolate only makes it heavier. Still, I think it is a cake that would make its ancient namesake proud.

I doubt very much that Lola Delaney would have either the emotional wherewith all or even the equipment to make one herself, but Hazel would certainly find it easy to whip up for Mr. B when she wasn't busy whipping the rest of his family into shape. And , chocolate glaze or no, I think Mrs. Child would still enjoy putting one in her mouth.

Sadly, this is not as popular a cake as it used to be. Chocolate trends of the past several years have lead to denser, darker, more chocolaty, chocolate cakes. The virtue of this cake is it's balance of chocolate and nuttiness, with just a hint of rum underneath. As befitting a queen, it demands respect by virtue of its subtle complexity rather than by beating the palate with her sceptre. And that's all too bad because I think this little Sheba is definitely ready for a comeback.

The following will make one large Reine de Saba in an 8-inch cake pan, or make six petite versions in a large (3 1/2-inch diameter) muffin tin. Comme tu veux.

Ingredients:

4 oz semi-sweet chocolate (bittersweet may be used, but I'm going the Child route here)
2 tablespoons rum or coffee
1/4 lb butter at room temperature
2/3 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
3 egg, separated
2/3 cup finely ground almonds
1/4 tsp cream of tartar
1/4 tsp almond extract
1/2 cup cake flour, measured then sifted
one good pinch of salt

Preparation:

Pre-heat oven to 350F and place rack in the middle.

1. Melt the chocolate and rum or coffee (choose your poison) in a pot set over simmering (not boiling, please) water, stirring to combine. Cover, turn off heat, and leave alone. You'll come back to it later and it isn't going anywhere. Cream the butter and 2/3 cup sugar together until pale yellow and fluffy. Beat in the egg yolks until paler and even fluffier than before. Add almond extract.

2. In a separate bowl, beat the egg whites on low-to-medium until foamy, then increase speed as you like, adding 1 tablespoon of sugar and 1/4 teaspoon cream of tartar until soft peaks form.

3. Return to your melted chocolate and give her a little stir. The consistency should be somewhat satiny and fluid. Beat in a bit of butter/yolk mixture at a time, stirring constantly so the yolks do not curdle. Repeat until all is one.

4. Combine almond meal, flour, and salt. Now add this dry mixture to your chocolate goo, incorporating bits at a time. When this has been accomplished, gently fold in egg whites, starting with about 1/2 a cup and working the rest in ever so skillfully.

5. Immediately set to placing about 1/2 cup of your batter into each of the six muffin tins. Give her a good, hard bang or two on your kitchen counter to level and remove any bubbles in the batter. Bake for 12 minutes, then begin to peek into your oven obsessively until finished. A pale, chocolatey crust should form, but the cakes shold jiggle a wee bit, too. Ideally, a toothpick inserted about an inch from the edges should come out dry, but one poked into the center should not. When this has been acheived, remove from oven and let cool for, oh, I don't know, let's say an hour, because you've got other things to do. When ready to remove from pan, run a sharp knife around the edges of the cakes, invert onto a tray, and you're done.

Not exactly. At this point, you may either top them with a chocolate glaze or simply dust them with powdered sugar.

Serve them to friends at your upcoming Oscar party, or just feed them to your pets and watch their little hearts explode from the chocolate.