Refreshing smoothies one day…hot tea the next. It’s San Francisco, after all, so sundresses and icy drinks enjoy but brief moments of glory. As much as I reveled in salads last week, I’m baking this week to keep our kitchen warm.

All that exuberant sunshine encouraged my little pot of thyme to bolt and bloom. Usually, I snip a sprig here and there, but faced with a sudden bounty, I needed to figure out how to use it all up. I found lovely photos of sugared thyme, with detailed instructions on brushing each sprig with a thin layer of egg white, sprinkling with granulated sugar, and then baking lots of cupcakes for something worthy to garnish. Tempting, yes. Realistic, no.

I already have an entire shelf of flavored vinegars, several old enough to sport their own layers of mother, so that easy solution to excess herbs was out of the question.

Fortunately my old, one-bowl standby — shortbread cookies — came to the rescue. I’d made a batch earlier for Robynn’s 35th birthday (get it, sweet thyme? Yeah, I had to explain it to her, too.) But as with many things we give away, we often forget to save enough goodness for ourselves. These cookies are staying in my own kitchen, enough of them for me to sweeten my afternoon tea…until the next heat wave arrives.

THYME SHORTBREAD
I actually don’t like my own sweets that sweet, so the amount of sugar in this recipe is low. If you prefer, increase the measure of sugar to 1/2 cup. Have fun experimenting with other herbs or spices, such as rosemary, sage, cinnamon, cardamom, or saffron. If you don’t have long-grain rice flour (don’t use the glutinous kind!) then simply omit and use 2 cups of all-purpose flour.

Makes about 36 shortbread bars.

Ingredients:
1 3/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 cup rice flour
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons fresh thyme leaves
2 sticks unsalted butter, room temperature
1 egg white, lightly beaten

Preparation:
1. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F. and line a 13×9-inch sheet pan with parchment.

2. Stir together the flour, sugar, and salt. With a fork, cut the butter into the flour mixture just until the dough comes together. Sprinkle in the thyme leaves and continue stirring until the herb is evenly distributed and the dough is smooth.

3. With a flat or offset spatula, press the dough flat into the sheet pan. Score into evenly sized bars with a sharp knife. Brush lightly with egg white, and then prick each cookie two or three times with the tines of a fork.

4. Bake until golden, 15 to 18 minutes. While the bars are still warm, cut along your previous score lines. Slide the cookies with their parchment paper onto a wire rack and let cool completely. They will continue to crisp, and their flavor will be better after one or two days. Store in an airtight tin, sharing most of them with your friends and saving a week’s worth for yourself.

Although the calendar says it’s only May, it feels more like July this week. My kids are begging to go to the pool every day and I’m craving ice cream. Strawberry ice cream to be specific. Strawberries are in full season in all their sweet glory and what better way to stave off the heat than to indulge in icy cream and fresh berries.

I have often made strawberry ice cream using heavy cream, berries, sugar and not much else. Although these desserts have been creamy and sweet, they were a bit lacking. Without eggs, ice cream just doesn’t have the full body and character I’m looking for in my dessert. I have hunted for years for the perfect strawberry ice cream recipe, but most use between 6 and 9 egg yolks. Now I love egg custards (and ice cream made with eggs is essentially just frozen custard), but the more eggs included in a custard, the richer the flavor. Although this can often be a very good thing — such as with vanilla, pecan or chocolate ice creams — the richness of too many eggs in custard can detract from the natural sweetness of any fruit you add to it, flattening the flavors. Plus eggs are high in cholesterol and fat, so if I can, I try to avoid them in abundance. What I wanted was a lighter strawberry ice cream with the depth of flavor eggs provide, without overshadowing the strawberries and casting them out of the limelight (or raising my LDL levels).

I recently read a NY Times article that used a pudding recipe for ice cream. The problem is that it uses 8 egg yolks (yes, 8!). I remembered that my pudding recipe is thick and creamy and only uses a couple of eggs, which seemed much more reasonable. I decided to tweak it a little, however, using strawberries instead of chocolate. I also added one extra egg yolk to help bind the ice cream as I was worried the strawberries — which naturally have a lot of water in them — would make the custard runny. Heavy cream also seemed a better choice than the whole milk I use in my pudding as this is ice cream we’re making, not ice milk. My final alteration was to include some lemon juice and zest to help brighten the strawberry flavors. Finally I plopped everything into the beautiful ice cream maker my husband’s aunt bought us a few years ago (thank you Aunt Susie!) with excellent results. The final product had a deep strawberry taste, a rich and creamy texture, and a more complex flavor than the plain cream strawberry ice cream I’ve made for years. It also allowed the strawberries to star, unlike some custard ice creams I’ve tried. And best of all, it helped cool us off during this heat wave.

Fresh Strawberry Ice Cream

Makes 4 - 8 servings

Ingredients
3 cups of fresh strawberries (cleaned, hulled and chopped)
½ cup plus 3 Tbsp sugar
1 Tbsp fresh lemon juice
Zest from one medium lemon
3 large egg yolks
3 Tbsp corn starch
Dash of salt
2 cups heavy cream
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 Tbsp butter

Preparation
1. Puree 2 cups of the strawberries with 3 Tbsp sugar and the lemon juice
2. Heat the heavy cream on medium-low until it starts to steam with small bubbles around the edge. Turn off the heat.
3. Whisk egg yolks with ½ cup sugar in a bowl until the mixture is a light yellow color.
4. Add the lemon zest, corn starch, and salt to the egg mixture and whisk thoroughly, making sure there are no lumps.
5. Add about a half cup of the warmed cream to the egg mixture, whisking vigorously to temper the eggs.
6. Add the egg mixture to the cream and incorporate thoroughly.
7. Cook on medium-low just until the mixture starts to bubble. Be sure to frequently stir or the mixture will start to burn at the bottom. I used a whisk, but a spatula would also work.
8. When the mixture becomes thick enough to coat the back of a spoon, turn off the heat and add the strawberry puree.
9. Stir in the vanilla.
10. Chill in an ice bath.
11. Cover with plastic wrap, being sure to let it sit directly on top of the pudding to avoid a skin forming.
12. Refrigerate until fully cooled.
13. Place mixture in your ice cream maker and let it do its thing for about twenty minutes.
14. Place in a container and place in the freezer. Stir every hour or so until firm so it evenly freezes.
15. Serve.

Tips:
1. If you do not have an ice cream maker, you can still make homemade ice cream. David Lebovitz shows you how to make ice cream without a machine.

2. This recipe would also be great using peaches, nectarines, plums, or any other type of berry.

A couple of weeks ago, I met up with my oldest friend in the world to mind her three-year-old while she had her hair cut and dyed. As a reward, she said, she would buy me chocolate. Fine, I thought. I’m not a chocolate freak, so she’d be getting off rather cheaply, in terms of childcare.

Of course, I had no idea what I was in for, chocolate-wise. She took me to Christopher Elbow Artisanal Chocolates, at 401 Hayes Street. This woman has always out-cooled me. Even living in Redwood City with three small children pulling her in as many directions, she manages to know what’s going on right under my nose before I can sniff it out. Damn her and bless her, too.

To me, Christopher Elbow sounds like the title character of a children’s book. He is either a misunderstood little boy in possession of either highly specialized super powers or, at the very least, a rich and imaginative inner life. As a chocolatier, I have tasted evidence of the latter, but will not entirely rule out the former. I selected only one chocolate to taste, since I wasn’t really in the mood for sweets. Port Wine Caramel. I took one bite and a remarkable sensation overtook me for a moment. Talk about a rich inner life…

There is a scene in the the 1971 film Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory in which Violet Beauregarde, the shapeless, gum-chewing champ, starts in on an Everlasting Gobstopper and says, describing her experience, “It’s tomato soup! It’s hot and creamy– I can actually feel it running down my throat!”

That is very much what happened to me when I bit into the caramel. Except I could feel port wine running down my throat instead of tomato soup. And, of course, there was no dramatic change to my organic composition which necessitated my immediate juicing. But I tumesced, just a little.

Squid bought herself a box of nine chocolates ($20.00), which would last her nine nights. One before bedtime, like some sort of luxury sugar pill. I knew I’d be back to do the same. I hope she’s not placing them on her pillow in this heat.

Upon my return, I chatted a bit with a nice young woman behind the counter and asked her to pick out some of her favorite chocolates. I added a couple of my own to the mix and had them wrapped to take home so that I might taste them in private, since my prior experience and reaction suggested I proceed with caution.

Before leaving, I needed to sample a bit of drinking chocolate. The young lady suggested her favorite– the Ginger Caramel Milk Chocolate. I obeyed.

I took my chocolate into the drinking lounge and contemplated my impending sugar coma.

Though I was the sole human in the lounge at the time, it certainly didn’t feel, well, loungy. The upright seatbacks and hard surfaces of the armrest/places to put one’s beverage seemed to underscore the necessity of bracing myself for the sugar rush that was about to overtake me. The glowing tables unsettled me, reminding me as they did of the Milk Bar in A Clockwork Orange. I find the fact that this place has brought to mind two classic films from 1971 fascinating. Had a high-priced call girl in hot pants and a terrible shag cut sat down to join me, I might have drunk my chocolate faster.

As it happened, I did drink my chocolate too quickly. I ended up inhaling a bit of ground ginger, which provoked an unfortunate little coughing fit. I knew the ginger was there, but I thought it looked pretty and therefore refused to stir it in. It was my fault entirely. I snapped some more photos and left, following someone I can only describe as a crazy, even more childlike Butterfly McQueen down Gough Street. She was exceedingly friendly, stopping to say hello not only to every person she met along the way, but a pair of shutters, and, finally, a hibiscus bush. Selfishly, I did not offer her any chocolate.

When I arrived home with my chocolates, I realized I had neither the time nor the appetite to consume them then and there as I had planned. These were special chocolates– the kind one might savor while bathing in asses’ milk or worry over in a monkey fur bed jacket while digesting the latest gossip from one’s maid. They are luxurious and complex. They cry out for a momentary focus of one’s attention. They are an expensive mouthful, to be sure, but they are worth every penny, I promise.

Cross my heart and kiss my elbow. Go check it out.

Here are some tasting notes on the one’s I’ve sampled:

Bourbon Pecan– one might never know there is marzipan lurking inside if one isn’t paying attention. Made with Maker’s Mark bourbon.

Passion Fruit — I don’t naturally gravitate towards white chocolate, but it serves as a subtle carrier for a caramel so tangy with passion fruit that, if I were slightly more obsessive, I would become obese and diabetic from doing nothing all day but collecting hundreds of these confections, scooping out the caramel, and licking it off a giant antique wooden spoon.

Cabernet– Chocolate, caramel, and Cabernet Sauvignon. I am not certain which winery supplies the wine for this confection, but I was assured it is a California Cabernet. As with the (sadly missing today) Port Wine chocolate I sampled a couple of weeks ago, I experienced another Miss Beauregarde moment. Happy-making.

Bananas Foster– Enjoyable, but didn’t exactly scream Bananas Foster to me. Perhaps I should have set it on fire.

Banana Curry– Hot damn. This one is really excellent. Refreshing trickle of heat.

Rosemary– For some reason, sweets flavored with rosemary often have a subtle and mildly disturbing moldy flavor. This narrowly manages to avoid that sort of unpleasantness. Nice little salt kick at the end.

Strawberry Balsamic– Fun. And interesting– the balsamic acidity of the piece is an interesting contrast to the chocolate but, rather than accentuate the strawberry, it obscures it.

Orange Blossom Honey– Oh my Blossom Dearie. This one totally delivers. Salty caramel that allows the subtle orange blossom notes of the honey to peek through and say hello. I like you, you’re nice.

Persian– Get over any loathing you might have of marzipan. This is a wonderfully complex piece of chocolate. Cardamom? Is that sumac? Do you even have any idea what sumac tastes like? Wonderfully nutty– blame the marzipan.

Christopher Elbow Artisanal Chocolates
Location: 401 Hayes Street (at Gough) in San Francisco
Telephone: 415-355-1105
Store Hours:

Visit the website for more information:
www.elbowchocolates.com

In late spring when the first cherries would appear at the Dallas farmers’ market, my mom would sing her little cherry ditty: “Cherries are ripe…” Granted, it doesn’t sound like much—it’s only a 3-word phrase—and she did sing it much more often than as an annual welcome to the little stone fruit, but I can’t look at cherries anymore without hearing her singsong voice.

Cherries are finally making an appearance at Bay Area farmers’ markets, and starting to taste less like watery insipid blobs and more like juicy flavorful sweet little gems.

While I typically like to eat my cherries out of hand, I will eat any fruit baked, especially if it’s surrounded by pastry, custard, or cake. So what happens when you merge all three and throw in some cherries? You get a heavenly, crispy-on-the-outside, custardy on the inside, pancakey Cherry Oven Pancake.

Modeled after the German apple oven pancake (also known as a Dutch baby), this incredibly easy, impressive dessert is as much science experiment as it is full-on delicious. Into the oven goes a thin batter, and out comes a big puffy surprise. Make sure you call your kids, your guests, or at least your dog in to see it as you pull it from the oven so they will be in awe of your culinary prowess.

Cherry Oven Pancake

Serves: 4-6

Ingredients:
3 eggs
1 cup whole milk
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 tablespoon sugar
1/2 cup flour
2 tablespoons butter
1/4 cup dark brown sugar
2 cups cherries, pitted
1/4 cup sliced almonds (optional)
Powdered sugar, maple syrup, or lemon wedges for serving

Preparation:
1. Preheat the oven to 450F. Puree the eggs, milk, vanilla, salt, and sugar in a blender until smooth. Add the flour, and puree again until smooth.

2. Over medium heat, melt the butter in a 10-inch cast iron pan and warm just until it starts to brown, then add the dark brown sugar, and stir with a wooden spoon until it starts to melt. Add the cherries and sauté until they start to release their juices, about 1 minute.

3. Turn off the heat and pour the batter into the pan. If you are using the almonds, sprinkle them evenly over the top of the batter. Quickly place the pan in the oven. Reduce the heat to 425F and bake until puffed and golden, about 20 minutes.

4. Sprinkle with powdered sugar or serve with maple syrup or a squeeze of lemon.

It sounds like a pre-Beatles-era dance step requiring two partners.

Can you do the Ice Cream Sandwich?

I took a very, very long walk on the last day of our very brief heatwave last week. Like, all day. Though the blossoms on the ornamental plum trees told me it was mid-April, the sweat trickling down my back was telling me I was stupid for not wearing a sun hat and zinc oxide. It just felt like summer. Whatever that means in this city.

Though my meanderings were entertaining and the company even more so, I felt that something important was missing. Like ice cream. Portable ice cream.

When I was a boy, if the weather was warm and my father had D.I.Y.-related errands to run, he would drag me to Lin-brook Lumber to look for whatever it is that handy people look for in such places. As a bribe, he’d tell me I could have an ice cream sandwich if I behaved myself well enough not to cause major damage to the store, myself, or others. He’d give me a quarter to plunk into the vending machine, I’d press a button, open a frosted-over door, and pull out an ice cream sandwich so stale it most likely pre-dated television. The wrapping paper stuck to the cardboard-flavored outer layer. It was always messy and usually tasted faintly of sawdust.

And I loved every bite of it.

Today, my tastes have (hopefully) matured. And I’ve become a lot more handy, at least in the kitchen. I can get up and make my own damned ice cream sandwiches. In fact, that’s what I’ve been up to this week…

There really isn’t much of an ingredients list for these. The beauty of making your own sandwiches is that you can use practically whatever the hell you want. The only requirements are:

Some ice cream, sorbet, gelato, frozen yogurt, or cold lumps of Crisco. Whatever.

Cookies, graham crackers, or some other sort of sandwiching material.

The rest is up to you. Whatever you have in your freezer, larder, or imagination will work just fine.

I made three different types– all dipped in chocolate:

1. Ciao Bella Blood Orange Sorbet.

2. Straus Family Creamery Vanilla Bean Ice Cream with a top stripe of homemade sea salt caramel sauce, rolled in chopped hazelnuts.

3. Stoneyfield Farms Organic Vanilla Frozen Yogurt with a layer of blackberry jam, rolled in chopped peanuts.

I limited myself to three because I live alone and did not want a freezerful of them calling out to me at inconvenient hours.

Preparation:

1. Select your sandwiching materials. I like Jules Destrooper Butter Crisps because of their size and thinness. Set them on a small baking sheet lined with parchment paper that will fit easily into your freezer.

2. If you are layering your cookies with caramel, jam, or what have you, do it now.

3. Let your ice cream soften until it is spreadable, but just barely. Working in small batches, coat a clean side of your cookies (not ones you have already layered with other ingredients) with an even layer of ice cream roughly one inch thick. Top it off with a second, matching cookie (layered or not). Smooth the sides, place on parchment, and put back in the freezer. Repeat until you have as many as you need. Or want.

4. If you are dipping your sandwich in chocolate, I recommend letting the chocolate cool until just barely warm. The ice cream will melt rather quickly if you dip it anything much warmer than that.

These sandwiches would be brilliant as a do-ahead treat at backyard barbecues. If you have a barbecue. Or a backyard. I have neither, so I just have to pretend. Don’t worry about me, I do that a lot. I’ll be just fine. Really. Just fine. Alone in my apartment with a freezer half-filled with ice cream sandwiches. I’ll be fat and alone, but fine.

Breaking two cardinal rules in my kitchen–versatility and real-world functionality–my favorite new toy is silly, beautiful, and fun. It can only do one thing: make cookies in the shape of an obscure cut of lamb. A while back, while checking out the display cases at the excellent little butcher shop, Avendano’s, my friends spotted a batch of hand-crafted, limited-edition, copper cookie cutters. For some reason, they thought of me.

The packaging was gorgeous. Each form is hand-stitched to a card painted with a watercolor depiction of the actual cut of meat. I am now blessed with a “Middle Cut Rib” of lamb, which, to be honest, does not resemble any overly trimmed product that I’ve seen at most meat counters. My favorite part is the tiny tag, hanging off the cookie cutter like some exclusive designer label and engraved–by hand, of course–with the maker’s phone number.

This past weekend, I finally had a chance to give it a try. Since royal icing is one of my least favorite foods, depicting meat with only cookie dough became the challenge. An old recipe (adapted from Vanilla Refrigerator Cookies in the 1976 edition of the Joy of Cooking) and a bit of red food coloring leftover from making velvet cake came to rescue. I debated incorporating demi-glace or bouillon for meaty flavor, but decided to stay simple for the test run. Next time.

Here are some photos and notes from my first stab at meat cookies:

The red-colored dough, with a bits of white dough aka fat marbling left from the mixing. The color will lighten with baking, so make it darker than the final shade you want.

While still warm and soft, shape the dough into a thick piece that roughly follows the contour of the cutter. Basically, you’re making a lamb loin, or the meat before the butcher saws it into steaks or chops. Make it slightly smaller than the outline of the cutter, though, to allow for the fat layer…

…with some reserved, uncolored dough, build up a thin (or thick—your preference) layer of “fat” around the lamb loin. I started off with an offset spatula, and then figured out it’s much easier just to flatten pieces of white dough between my palms and press then right into the red dough. Press down firmly on the dough to avoid air pockets, which will later become cracks and gaps. Any breaks later are easy to fix, though, with extra dough.

After chilling for a few hours, I sliced the loin thinly with a chef’s knife and transferred the cookies to a parchment lined sheet pan. Final shaping with the cutter happens right on the pan. (The two front cookies have been cut).

Sweet meat trimmings. I mushed them together into a log, chilled again, and then sliced into pretty, round, marbled cookies.

Be sure to cool the cookies completely on a wire rack before storing them in an airtight container.

Layered between parchment, the cookies traveled very well to a weekend picnic in the park. If there’s a meat-lover in your life who happens to like baking or who deserves a batch of meat cookies…well, I think there’s a gift out there waiting to be made.

Red Meat Refrigerator Cookies
Makes 12 large cookies, plus trimmings.

Ingredients

• 1 cup butter, room temperature
• 2 cups sugar
• 2 large eggs
• 2 teaspoons pure vanilla extract
• 1 1/2 teaspoons lemon zest or 1/2 teaspoon lemon oil
• 1 teaspoon almond extract (optional)
• 3 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 tablespoon baking powder
• 2 – 4 teaspoons red food coloring

Preparation
1. Beat butter until creamy. Add sugar gradually and beat until pale and fluffy.
2. In a separate small bowl, lightly beat together the eggs, vanilla, lemon, and almond. Drizzle into the butter-sugar mixture and beat until smooth.
3. Sift together the flour, salt, and baking powder. Stir into the butter mixture.
4. Remove 1/4 of the dough to a separate bowl. Adding gradually, blend the red food coloring into the remaining dough. Leave the coloring slightly streaking, to keep the cookies tender and to mimic marbled meat.
5. Shape into logs or lamb loins. Chill thoroughly, or at least four hours.
6. Preheat oven to 400 degrees F. Working quickly, cut into 1/4-inch thick slices. Re-chill dough, if needed, to keep it firm. Arrange on parchment paper and bake just until lightly golden around edges, or 8-10 minutes. Transfer to a rack and let cool completely.

I’ve been having deep thoughts about pudding lately. It all started when I was watching Harry Potter and the Order of the Phoenix with my daughters. Twice in the movie, Luna Lovegood refers to eating pudding at a Hogwart’s feast. Every time I heard the word “pudding,” my mouth watered and I knew I had to make some soon.

But what type of pudding? Although Harry Potter takes place in the United Kingdom, land of the bread pudding and baked pudding, I imagined Luna sitting down to a lovely bowl of rich chocolate pudding. I mean, what kid dreams of bread pudding? Well, forget about Luna — I have pudding dreams of my own and they are all creamy and chocolaty.

Once I decided to make pudding, I had a lot of questions. Whole milk or heavy cream? Eggs or no eggs? Nonfat or super fat? The options are endless and I began to feel a little like a puddin’ head thinking about it all. The one thing I knew for sure was that I was going to make it from scratch.

Now before you scoff and say that you don’t have time to make pudding from scratch, let me wag my digital finger at you. Making homemade pudding takes only about five minutes longer than mixing together a box of the instant stuff. Years of watching Jell-O commercials may have convinced you otherwise, but it’s true. Not one of the three recipes I made took more than twelve minutes to cook. Honest. Plus, unlike the boxed variety, you can pronounce all the ingredients, which is always a plus.

Nonfat Pudding

I started my pudding adventure wondering if I could make a pudding with nonfat milk that tasted creamy and rich. I made one from the Cooking Light web site and was sadly disappointed. The pudding was flat in both texture and taste. The wonderful creaminess you get from milk fat was missing and although I used a nice bittersweet chocolate, its nuances were drowned out. After a few bites, my husband and I agreed it wasn’t worth eating so we threw the whole thing out and made ice cream sundaes. If you’re interested in trying this nonfat milk pudding, here’s the recipe, and I wish you better luck.

Whole Milk Pudding Made with Cornstarch

The next night I made a chocolate pudding using a recipe on the New York Times web site by Mark Bittman. I am quite a fan of Mr. Bittman’s and so wanted to try his version. The recipe called for whole milk, sugar, cornstarch, chocolate, and not much else. I used a nice Michel Cluizel Mangaro Lait milk chocolate, because I thought my daughters would like it. When I make this pudding again, however, I will use a bittersweet chocolate instead as the milk chocolate lost its character once it was added to milk and sugar. Don’t get me wrong; it was still lovely with a nice caramel undertone. It just wasn’t chocolaty enough for my tastes. The recipe itself was smooth and rich, although with the occasional gelatinous blob of cornstarch even though I tried to thoroughly whisk it into the cold milk. Here’s the recipe. If you’d like to make a first-rate pudding and don’t want to deal with eggs, this is the one for you.

Custard Pudding

The final pudding would actually be considered a custard by some, although for me it had the best flavor of the bunch and seemed the most pudding-like. I used egg yolks, whole milk, cornstarch, bittersweet chocolate, and a few other minor ingredients. After looking at about fifteen custard and pudding recipes, I ended up cobbling this one together on my own as the others seemed to use either too many egg yolks or called for heavy cream, while I wanted to use milk. Others required a double boiler, which seemed like a lot of work for what is supposed to be a simple dessert. This pudding was the most time intensive, but it still took under 12 minutes to make from start to finish. The texture was velvety; the taste complex yet balanced. I used a combination of cocoa powder and bittersweet chocolate, melting them in at different times to give the pudding a fuller chocolaty flavor. I used a nice cocoa powder along with some Grenada Organic Dark Chocolate. This one definitely hit the spot.

I asked some friends over for a blind taste test and all agreed that although the New York Times recipe was quite good, the custard pudding was superior. We felt the Times recipe was a great choice for parents who wanted to make good and fast pudding for kids, but that the custard pudding had better consistency and flavor. One of my friends called it a pudding for grownups, which seemed to sum it up nicely.

So, please, get rid of the Jell-O box and try some homemade pudding. You’ll be pleasantly surprised at how easy and fast it is to make, and much happier with the results.

Velvety Bittersweet Chocolate Pudding
Makes 2 - 4 servings

Ingredients
2 large egg yolks
½ cup sugar
3 Tbsp corn starch
Dash of salt
2 Tbsp good cocoa powder
2 cups whole milk
1 tsp vanilla extract
2 Tbsp butter
3 ounces finely chopped bittersweet chocolate

Preparation

1. Heat the milk on medium-low heat until it starts to steam with small bubbles around the edge. Turn off the heat.
2. Whisk egg yolks with sugar in a bowl until the mixture is a light yellow color.
3. Add the sugar, corn starch, cocoa, and salt to the egg mixture and whisk thoroughly, making sure there are no lumps.
4. Add about a half cup of the warmed milk to the egg mixture, whisking vigorously to temper the eggs.
5. Add the egg mixture to the milk and incorporate thoroughly.
6. Cook on medium-low just until the mixture starts to bubble. Be sure to frequently stir or the pudding will start to burn at the bottom.
7. Lower the heat to simmer and cook for five minutes, stirring often.
8. Once the pudding is thickened, turn off the heat and stir in the butter and vanilla.
9. After the butter has melted, add in the chopped chocolate and stir until it is thoroughly melted and incorporated.
10. Divide into serving bowls, or place in one large bowl.
11. Cover with plastic wrap, being sure to let it sit directly on top of the pudding to avoid a skin forming.
12. Refrigerate for at least two hours.
13.Serve with whipped cream.

Oh, it’s Spring. What joy.

In honor of this turning of the seasons, I bring you a light little piece of fluff– the Pavlova.

When I was cooking at a little restaurant in the Mission called the Moa Room, my favorite Kiwi and boss, Chef Jan Gardner often let me run off and do my own thing with our desserts, which was rather brave of her. But not so when she felt the call to make her Pavlova– the most famous dessert to ever come out of New Zealand. I would stand back to watch her work, asking her to say things like “milk” and “bottle” so that I might be better able to imitate her accent as well as her dessert-making technique. She was a very patient woman who only occasionally would ask a co-worker if he or she wouldn’t mind punching me in the neck.

This pleasant breath of fresh air is rarely seen on San Francisco dessert menus, which I think is a pity. It is as light and airy as the dancing of its namesake, the most famous of all ballerinas, Anna Pavlova.

There is some argument as to the origin of this dessert. Australians claim it was birthed by Herbert Sachse of the Hotel Esplanade, Perth, Australia, citing in 1935 that the dish was “as light as Pavlova.” She stayed at the hotel while on tour in 1929. It just took him six years to come up with something clever to say about it.

New Zealand has an earlier, similar claim coming out of Wellington in 1926, when a hotel chef created a dish inspired by the shape of the touring dancer’s white tutu with green cabbage roses and frothy netting. I’m no social archaeologist, but I’ll just bet the farm he was gay.

Well, I love Australians, but I am siding with my friends from New Zealand on this one.

Pavlova

Jan Gardner shied away from kiwifruit, most likely because they are not echt New Zealand. To her, a kiwi is the smaller, non-extinct cousin of the moa. The Chinese Gooseberry arrived in the land of the dead moa from, unsurprisingly, China in 1904. The name “kiwifruit” was originally a marketing ploy. One that has worked all too well. Though this meringue happily supports a wide variety of fruit, I have used the kiwi because the original dish, as far as I can tell, contained them. Remember those green cabbage roses.

This is not Jan’s recipe. I never got it. I could just punch myself in the neck for not asking for
it. The recipe listed below is a culling of several.

For a great run down on how to approach a meringue, read Shuna’s take on the Pavlova.

Ingredients:

For the Pavlova:

4 large egg whites, room temperature
1 cup of superfine sugar (you can make this out of table sugar by whizzing it in your Cuisinart.)
1 teaspoon white vinegar
1 tablespoon corn starch
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract. Tradition does not call for this, I just like it in my meringue.

For the Topping:

3/4 cup heavy whipping cream
1/4 cup buttermilk. Again, this is not traditional. I just prefer a bit of tang to compliment the
über-sweetness of the meringue.
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Fresh fruit. Tart is good. Things like kiwifruit, strawberries, raspberries, beri beri. I don’t care.
Passion fruit is really amazing with it, too.

Procedure:

1. Pre-heat oven to 300 F.

2. Line a baking sheet with parchment paper. Create and cut out a separate circle of parchment paper about 7 inches in diameter. Cut out a matching circle of cardboard. Attach the parchment circle to cardboard with a smear of corn syrup or whatever you’ve got handy to adhere. I’ll bet even Elmer’s glue would work, though I would not recommend it. (Note: this cut out circle business isn’t absolutely necessary, but I find it helps me get a cleaner edge on the meringue.)

3. In the bowl of a stand mixer, whisk egg whites at slow speed (Thanks for the tip, Shuna), gradually increasing the speed as the volume of the whites increase. When the whites begin to hold a soft peak, add the sugar a little at a time to dissolve. Increase the speed and whip until the mixture is silken and holds stiff peaks.

4. Having made a slurry of your vinegar and cornstarch, stir to discourage any lumps. Sprinkle the slurry over the meringue and fold in.

5. Gently heap meringue onto your parchment disk, making certain to leave a shallow bowl in the center for eventual cream-and fruit-filling. Smooth the edges of the meringue for a clean look or make any sort of design you wish. Please email me if you’ve come up with anything interesting or vaguely obscene.

6. Place your meringue-topped cardboard parchment onto the lined baking sheet and place in oven. Bake for 15 minutes, turn off the heat and walk away. Baking should take about one hour, but it is best to peek in every once in a while to see how your creation is doing. The Pavlova should not brown, but take on a slight cream color. Leaving it in the oven to dry out a bit is a good thing.

The now-baked Pavlova will keep for up to a week when stored in non-humid conditions in an air-tight container.

7. For the topping, whip cream and buttermilk until soft peaks form. Gradually add sugar and vanilla, then whip a little more. You make chose to remove half the cream at this stage for spreading, whipping up the remainder for piping those tutu-like frills around the edge that I somehow failed to achieve.

8. Spread the whipped cream over the meringue. Top with the fruit of your choice, and serve immediately in the fifth position, thereby impressing your friends and family with your limberness of both lower body and culinary expertise.

Eat immediately.

Serves 6

This Fall saw three dessert books by local chefs, Elizabeth Falkner’s Demolition Desserts, Pure Dessert by Alice Medrich and Indulge by Claire Clark. Each of these books are masterful and exacting. When it comes to pastry, exacting is important. I’m often intimidated by the fact that you can’t “fix” dessert the way you can fix something savory. You can’t add more leavening or salt or sugar or cook the fruit a bit longer once your creation comes out of the oven. What you can do, is rely on recipes that work.

Elizabeth Falkner’s Demolition Desserts is the first book by Elizabeth Falkner. Go ahead and skip Fisherman’s Wharf, but I consider Citizen Cake a requirement for any out-of-town visitor. Falkner’s creations are sophisticated and smart, never sickly sweet. She composes plated desserts the way other chefs compose main courses with multiple elements that complement and play off of each other in both unexpected and whimsical ways. The book has both complicated desserts but also more straight forward ones like chocolate chip cookies, cupcakes and brownies. It’s the chapters like The Chocolate Crawl, Fruitscapes and the Construction Zone that are most likely to inspire. Fantastic creations with even more fantastic names are par for the course. The manga style illustrations add the sense of fun and pleasure that comes so naturally with dessert.

Another first time cookbook author is Clarie Clark, the head pastry chef at The French Laundry. Indulge 100 Perfect Desserts is filled with French, English and American desserts, and ingredients are given by weight. The recipes are very well-written and chapters called “The Secrets of Success” share the insider tips that can only come from years in the kitchen. A section on puff pastry has 8 tips to make sure you get it right. A bit like a class in pastry-making, this is a terrific reference book and the photographs will guide your plating and presentation as much as the instructions.

Pure Dessert is written by veteran chocolatier and cookbook author, Alice Medrich. The focus of the book is on “true flavors and inspiring ingredients” and it is a celebration of simplicity. That’s not to say the recipes are easy, but certainly easy to love. In an earlier book Medrich revisited chocolate desserts using the higher quality, higher percentage cacao and this book is in some ways very similar. It’s about creating desserts that celebrate ingredients. A chapter dedicated to the flavors of grain, nuts and seeds includes recipes like Buckwheat Strawberry Shortcakes, Walnut Sponge Cake and Corn Tuiles with Salt and Pepper. Some of the recipes are classics, others are innovative.

Chocolate² Chip Espresso Cookies
makes about 4 dozen standard cookies or 8 dozen mini cookies

11/2 cups (71/2 ounces) all-purpose flour
3/4 cup (21/4 ounces) unsweetened cocoa powder, preferably natural
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
2 teaspoons finely ground espresso-roast coffee beans
1 cup (8 ounces) unsalted butter, softened but still cool
3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons (71/4 ounces) firmly packed dark brown sugar
1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon (4 ounces) granulated sugar
1 (11/2 ounces by weight) large egg
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
11/3 cups (8 ounces) semisweet, milk, or white chocolate chips, or a combination

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, and ground coffee. In a large bowl, using a wooden spoon, cream together the butter and brown and granulated sugars until smooth but not overmixed. (I do this by hand, but if you use a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment or a handheld mixer, beat on medium speed for 1 to 2 minutes, and then scrape down the sides of the bowl before continuing.) Add the egg, vanilla, and salt and stir just until combined. Add the sifted ingredients to the butter mixture in two additions, stirring gently after each addition just until combined. Add the chocolate chips and stir just until evenly distributed throughout the dough. Cover and refrigerate for 30 minutes.
Position the racks in the upper third and lower third of the oven and preheat the oven to 350°F. Line 2 baking sheets with parchment paper.

Scoop up 1-inch balls of dough for full-sized cookies or 1/2-inch balls for mini cookies with a spoon or mini scoop. Set the large scoops 2 inches apart or the small scoops 1 inch apart on the prepared pans.

Bake the mini cookies for about 5 minutes and the full-sized cookies for about 8 minutes, and then rotate the pans and bake both sizes for another 3 minutes, or until they are puffed and still look a little wet in the center. Transfer to racks and let cool. (Okay, you can sneak a couple of warm cookies, but let most of the batch cool.)
These cookies will keep for 2 to 3 days in an airtight container, but they will be at their most tender the day you bake them.

Reprinted from Elizabeth Falkner’s Demolition Desserts, Copyright 2007 Tenspeed Press

Happy November! Happy cool weather, foggy evenings, cozy couch lounging, flannel sheets, soft scarves, cashmere sweaters, one pot meals, soup and stock simmering in the kitchen, and hot cocoa for breakfast.

People often ask me what the difference between hot cocoa and hot chocolate is. I like to think the answer is something akin to the difference between Soul Food and Southern Cookery/ Cuisine. Both are from the American South, but Soul Food is a little more specific.

Hot cocoa and hot chocolate are basically the same animal, but hot chocolate is a mink and the former is more like a very soft cat. Hot chocolate is made with bar chocolate and hot cocoa, with, yes obvious - cocoa. Both can be made with milk, cream or a mixture of both.

Depending on your age, and the particular geography you were standing in when you had your first sip of hot cocoa, means the cocoa your body registered as the correct hot cocoa taste will differ from someone else of another age and of another place.

For the sake of this discussion we will say there are two kinds of cocoa. Natural and European or Dutch Process. Natural cocoa is light in color and DP is dark. For baking, knowing the difference is of utmost importance. But in the case of a drinkable, it more has to do with your taste memory and preference. If you were me, or from New York City, you might have had your hot cocoa epiphany at the now, sadly, closed Rumplemeyer’s. Hot cocoa at this venerable restaurant was served in silver teapots. It was rich and aromatic and very hot. You sat in plush pink banquets surrounded by other reverent small people and their adult companions. It was benchmark hot cocoa. I have a feeling it was made with natural cocoa because when I make hot cocoa now it is the cocoa I have the strongest emotional memory reaction to.

Hot chocolate is a rich enterprise. Although you can use milk, bitter/semi-sweet chocolate begs {heavy} cream, and then what you have on your hand is the opinionated view of your expensive chocolate versus how you’re going to explain to anyone else why it’s ok to drink ganache. We’re talking seriously supple, silky and smooth, but at the cost of your arteries, and for me I would rather slather a wide mug of hot cocoa with whipped cream to amend the whole milk.

The most famous hot chocolate of my generation is created by the slightly wicked, darkly humoured Maury Rubin, pastry chef/ baker/ owner of City Bakery in NYC and Los Angeles. He is smart enough to serve it in a thimble-sized portion for reasonable, informed persons, and has a larger portion for those unawares of what lies within. Not only are there no words to describe what Maury’s hot chocolate is like, even if I had any, they would disappear under the weight of this brutally rich concoction. Yes, I like it, but I have been known to share the shot size with more than one other person. No joke, yo.

I have a few tricks should you like to take hot cocoa on as a end of year meal amending or replacing project. Years of making beverages, ice cream, cakes, frostings, ganache, truffles and more with cocoa and chocolate have given me insight to a number of cocoa and chocolate personality quirks.

Chocolate and cocoa have little to no flavor when they are cold or frozen. Cocoa’s chocolatey-ness can only be achieved if added to warm or hot liquid. If cocoa is added to cold or cool liquid and then heated up, the cocoa will float to the bottom of the pot and burn on the bottom. This scorching will destroy the flavor of the dairy.

Every cocoa is not only different in terms of its manufacturing process, but not one of them is ground to the same particle size. You may think you don’t care about such minute details, but 4 teaspoons of one cocoa is not 4 teaspoons of another. If you are making a large batch of hot cocoa, as I have begun to at work in preparation of all the ice skaters in Justin Herman Plaza, measure cocoa by weight. If you have a scale that can be adjusted to grams, do so. Good quality cocoa is strong and a smidge goes a long way.

If you are making hot chocolate, it is best to chop chocolate fine and place in a large, wide mouthed bowl. Heat cream/milk until just boiling and pour over chocolate. Let sit a few minutes and then whisk in tight concentric circles, from the interior, out. Although you can make hot chocolate with milk, you will find that cream or half & half will emulsify with the solid chocolate better. It’s never a good idea to cook chocolate right in a saucepan because it burns so easily, but if you want to heat up your mixture again or more, place bowl over a pot of boiling water and whisk until desired consistency. Or a microwave can be you fast friend.

I’m one of those odd ducks who likes a big mug of hot cocoa to be unsweetened or barely sweet. But if you like yours a little sweeter try using brown or raw sugar. The caramel-ly flavor of these sugars backs up the chocolate taste nicely. And lastly, a tiny pinch of kosher salt is a nice finesse.

Because hot cocoa and hot chocolate are made up of just two or three ingredients, making sure your dairy is the best quality is a good idea. Ultra-pasteurized milk and cream can sometimes have stabilizers that read on the tongue as bitter and can interfere with your hot cocoa purr.

This is how I make hot cocoa:
I pour about 2 cups of whole milk into a non-reactive saucepan, sprinkle about a teaspoon of sugar in, and then turn flame to low or medium. When milk is hot to the touch I sprinkle in cocoa one teaspoon at a time, whisking constantly, until it tastes right. I continue to whisk for about 5 minutes, but I try not to let it boil.

I don’t know about you, but I’m glad it’s cold again. I love summer, but as an East Coaster originally, I like autumn to give way to winter, without a 90-degree October in between. Because without a bunch of cold and dreary months I would have a hard time explaining away my hot cocoa for breakfast, lunch and dinner habit.