Banana Cream Pie with Chocolate Ganache & Salted Caramel Sauce

I've been dreaming of banana cream pie ever since I had a taste of Melissa Chou's (Aziza) deconstructed version inspired by The Essential New York Times Cookbook. I thoroughly enjoyed Chou's elegant take on the dessert, but I had a hankering for something a little homier.

I had visions of a pretty Southern belle of a pie, with little flair, of course. A classic golden graham cracker crust coated with dark chocolate ganache, sweet bananas, thick vanilla-specked pastry cream, and pillows of soft whipped cream swirled with salted caramel.

Mmm…I could almost taste it already.

Graham cracker crust

To start, I got my crust in order. Honey Maid made it even easier than usual with pre-crushed graham cracker crumbs. I mixed it with some melted butter and a touch of sugar and baked it until it was golden brown and firmed up.

Chocolate ganache bottom

Then, I coated the bottom with a rich layer of dark chocolate ganache (flair #1).

Pastry Cream

For the pastry cream, I combined whole milk, sugar, and vanilla bean and let it come to a simmer. A tip with the vanilla bean, if it's too hard to split in half, throw the entire bean in the saucepan so that it softens as the milk warms up. Once it's pliable again, fish it out, splice it open, and scrape the seeds out. Meanwhile, I whisked together some sugar, cornstarch, and eggs. When the milk boiled, I whisked in the egg mixture. As it heated up again, the mixture thickened up to a pudding-like consistency. To finish off the pastry cream I folded in some freshly whipped cream and bananas.

Salted Caramel

For my second bit of flair, I wanted to bring some burnt salted caramel into the picture. The subtle tinge of bitterness and pop of salt in the caramel added an interesting dimension to the mix. Plus, salted caramel is always a good decision in my book. Making caramel is surprisingly easy, but for some added reinforcement, I turned to David Lebovitz for some great detailed tips on making the perfect caramel.

Assembly

Now that all the pieces were ready, I layered in all the goodness and got ready for my dreams to come true. It was even better than I imagined it would be! The flavors complemented each other beautifully. The banana and chocolate -– a classic combo -– but brought to another level of interesting with the addition of the salted caramel, which also played nicely with the buttery graham cracker crumbs. Cool, creamy, sweet, and decadent. This is the kind of pie you want to take home to meet the parents.

Beautiful Banana Cream Pie

Banana Cream Pie with Chocolate Ganache & Salted Caramel Sauce
Inspired by Amanda Hesser's The Essential New York Times Cookbook.

Serves: 8

Ingredients:

Graham Cracker Crust
1 ¼ cups graham cracker crumbs (10 or 11 whole crackers)
1 teaspoon sugar
4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted

Ganache Layer
1/2 cup heavy cream
3 ounces bittersweet chocolate (about 1/2 cup chocolate chips)

Pastry Cream
1 2/3 cups whole milk
¼ cup plus 3 tablespoons sugar
1 vanilla bean, split, seeds scraped out and reserved
3 tablespoons cornstarch
1 large egg
2 large egg yolks
2 tablespoons unsalted butter

Salted Caramel Sauce
1 cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon water
4 tablespoons unsalted butter
1/2 cup heavy cream
1/2 teaspoon fleur de sel (or kosher salt)

For Assembly
1 cup heavy cream
2 tablespoons powdered sugar
3 medium bananas

Preparation:
Make the crust:
1. Preheat the oven to 325 F. Combine the crumbs and sugar in a bowl. Add the butter and mix until the crumbs are moistened. Pour the mixture into a 9-inch pie pan and use a flat-bottomed cup to press the crumbs evenly over the bottom; press it up the sides with your fingers. The edges of the shell will be crumbly.
2. Bake until lightly browned, 10-12 minutes. Cool completely.

Make the ganache:
3. Set the chocolate into a bowl. Heat the heavy cream to boiling point and pour over the chocolate. Let stand a couple of minutes and gently stir until fully incorporated and glossy. It should be the consistency of warmed chocolate syrup. Cool to room temperature. Pour over the cooled pie crust and refrigerate.

Make the pastry cream:
4. Combine the milk, ¼ cup of sugar, and the vanilla bean and seeds in a medium saucepan and bring to a simmer over medium heat. (Tip: If the vanilla bean is hardened, throw the entire bean in the saucepan so that it softens as the milk warms up. Once it's pliable again, fish it out, split it in half, and scrape the seeds out. Add it all back into the saucepan until the mixture simmers.)
5. In a small bowl, sift the remaining 3 tablespoons of sugar together with the cornstarch. In a large bowl, whisk together the egg and yolks.
6. When the milk comes to a simmer, strain out the vanilla bean pods. Add the cornstarch mixture to the eggs and whisk until well combined. While whisking, slowly pour in about one-quarter of the milk to temper the egg mixture. Transfer this mixture to the saucepan, set over low heat, and simmer, whisking constantly, until it reaches the consistency of thick pudding. (Be careful not to curdle the eggs.)
7. Remove from the heat and stir in the butter until incorporated. If the mixture isn't quite as smooth as you'd like, you can always run it through a sieve. Pour into a shallow bowl, place plastic wrap directly on the surface, and chill.

Make the caramel sauce:
8. In a heavy saucepan set over medium-high heat, stir together sugar and water, and bring to a boil. Let boil until amber-colored. Once it starts taking on color, keep a close eye because it will turn quickly.
9. Immediately add butter and stir to incorporate. Remove from heat, add cream and salt (be careful, it will splatter), and mix well. It should be smooth and have a syrup-like consistency. Let cool to room temperature.

To assemble:
10. Using an electric mixer or a whisk, whip the heavy cream into peaks. Add powdered sugar and incorporate. Transfer the pastry cream to a large bowl and whisk until smooth. Fold in about half of the whipped cream.
11. Line the bottom of the pie crust with a layer of bananas (approximately two bananas sliced into rounds). With the remaining banana, slice half if it into rounds for garnish, and roughly chop the other half to fold into the pastry cream.
12. Drizzle a thin layer of caramel sauce over the bananas.
13. Spoon the pastry cream evenly into the crust. Mound the remaining whipped cream on top. Drizzle some caramel sauce over the whipped cream, swirling it decoratively. Decorate with remaining banana slices.
14. Chill, and serve within 24 hours. Plate with remaining caramel sauce.

Butterscotch Pot de Crème (Remix)

Today, I'd like to share an extraordinary dessert that has haunted me ever since I first tasted it: Town Hall's Pot de Crème. This decadent sweet ending is an uber-luxe version of an American classic -- creamy butterscotch pudding layered over rich dark chocolate pudding, topped with shards of buttercrunch toffee. Best of all, it's served in a huge oversized cereal bowl. No wussy servings here.

Town Hall's Pot de Crème (Photo Credit: Clay McClaughlin)

I shared this bowl of pudding-liciousness with some gals who have as much appreciation for the cook's holy trinity (butter-sugar-cream) as I do. This Pot de Crème had us oohing and ahhing until we were scraping the bottom of the bowl. I decided then and there that I needed to learn how to remake this at home.

The real knockout part of this dessert was the Butterscotch Pudding, so I decided to focus on that. I went to work trying to recreate this lovely bowl of sweetness. My first attempt was meh. I melted my dark brown sugar and butter together, and did everything David Lebovitz told me to do, but the texture was too grainy.

This would not do.

Plan B: Go to the source. I emailed Town Hall and begged them for the recipe.

To my utter delight, they happily shared it! I scaled down the recipe, but otherwise, followed the instructions closely.

Butterscotch Pudding Ingredients

Preheat the oven to 350 F, and gather your ingredients together:

3 ½ cups heavy cream
½ teaspoon salt
1 vanilla bean
½ cup egg yolk (room temperature)
1 ½ teaspoons scotch (I substituted with Maker's Mark)
1 ½ teaspoons water
1 ½ teaspoons heavy cream
1 tablespoon dark brown sugar
3 oz (about 1/3 cup butterscotch chips)

Vanilla bean infused cream

In a sauce pan over medium heat, combine the cream, salt, and vanilla bean (The one I used was home-grown by my friend in Madagascar!). Bring the cream to just under boiling (small bubbles should rise to the side, but no rolling boil).

While the vanilla cream mixture warms up, whisk together the scotch (or bourbon), water, brown sugar, and second measure of cream. Set that aside.

When the cream mixture is done, turn the heat off the pot, fish out the vanilla bean, and stir in the scotch mixture and butterscotch chips, whisking to melt the chips and distribute evenly.

The vanilla bean was probably too hard to split before, but since it has softened up now, cut it open lengthwise. Using the dull edge of a paring knife, run it down the length of the bean, scraping up all the fragrant vanilla specks, and add it back into the cream mixture. The remaining vanilla pod still has a lot of flavor left, so I like to rinse it off and put it in a jar filled with sugar to make vanilla-scented sugar. Every time you cook with a vanilla bean, just keep adding it to your jar.

Butterscotch pudding through sieve

Now, it's time to temper the hot cream mixture into the egg yolks (add a little at a time so that you don't end up with scrambled eggs). Strain this mixture through a fine mesh sieve and pour directly into a baking dish that is sitting in a larger roasting pan.

Wrapped in foil and cozy in water bath

Bake in a water bath at 350 F (the water should come about halfway up the side of the baking dish), wrapped in foil, approximately 40-60 minutes or until the pudding is starting to set. The pudding is done when it jiggles as one if you move it gently.

Butterscotch pudding jiggling as one

Remove the baking dish from the water bath and let it cool at room temperature.

Strain the custard through a fine mesh sieve a second time and ladle it into your serving bowls (I used round punch glasses; I've also seen some pretty presentations in tea cups before). Chill thoroughly before serving.

Instead of making the toffee garnish, I went with freshly whipped cream, chocolate shavings, and a buttery Tahini Shortbread Cookie. The salty, nutty crumble of the Tahini Shortbread was a nice complement here. If short on time though, I would just crush up some Werther's or Skor toffee and sprinkle that on top.

I'm pleased to report back that this recipe remix was a success! It had the same swoon-worthy, luxurious texture as Town Hall's original version. The pudding was golden and buttery, and just melted away on your tongue like cool silk.

Butterscotch Pudding with Tahini Shortbread Cookie

Town Hall's Pot de Crème
This decadent dessert consists of a rich butterscotch pudding layered over dark chocolate pudding, topped with a buttercrunch toffee. For my version, just make the butterscotch pudding, top with freshly whipped cream, and garnish with chocolate shavings and a Tahini Shortbread Cookie. Recipe courtesy of Town Hall.

Chocolate Pudding

Serves: 5-6

Ingredients:
2 tablespoons cocoa powder
2 tablespoons cornstarch
½ cup sugar
Pinch of salt
1 vanilla bean, slit open
1 cup cream
2 egg yolks
2 cups whole milk
6 oz (about 2/3 cup) 62% dark chocolate
½ oz butter

Preparation:

1. Whisk together the cocoa, cornstarch, sugar, and salt in the bottom of a dry heavy bottomed medium pot.
2. Add the vanilla bean, then slowly whish in the heavy cream, scraping the bottom with a spatula to make a homogenous mixture.
3. Add yolks, whisking un until completely blended.
4. Pour in milk and whisk well.
5. Cook the mixture over medium heat until it is hot, stirring frequently, then add the chocolate pieces and whisk scraping the bottom to ensure no chocolate burns while it is melting in.
6. Continue to cook over low heat until the mixture thickens and reaches 180 F; it may still look loose – this is ok, it sets up as it cools.
7. When the mixture is ready, add the butter and strain through a fine mesh sieve into a clean container.
8. Now you are ready to ladle the pudding into your serving bowls. Place them in the refrigerator to chill and set before ladling on the butterscotch pudding.

Butterscotch Pudding

Serves: 5-6

Ingredients:
3 ½ cups heavy cream
½ teaspoon salt
1 vanilla bean, split open
½ cup egg yolk
1 ½ teaspoons scotch
1 ½ teaspoons water
1 ½ teaspoons heavy cream
1 tablespoon dark brown sugar
3 oz (about 1/3 cup butterscotch chips)

Preparation:

1. Preheat oven to 350 F.
2. In a medium sauce pan over medium heat, scald the cream (heat just under boiling – small bubbles will rise to the side, but no rolling boil), salt, and vanilla bean.
3. Meanwhile, whisk together the scotch, water, brown sugar, and second measure of cream. Set that aside
4. When the cream mixture is done, turn the heat off the pot and stir in the scotch mixture and butterscotch chips, whisking to melt the chips and distribute evenly.
5. Temper the hot cream mixture into the egg yolks (add a little at a time so that you don't end up with scrambled eggs).
6. Strain this mixture through a fine mesh sieve and pour directly into a baking dish.
7. Bake in a water bath at 350 F, wrapped in foil, approximately 40-60 minutes or until just starting to set. The water should come about halfway up the side of the baking dish. The custard is done when it jiggles as one if you move it gently.
8. Remove from water bath and let cool at room temperature.
9. Strain the custard through a fine mesh sieve a second time and ladle into your serving bowls, which have been already filled, and chilled, with the chocolate pudding. Chill before serving.

Buttercrunch

Ingredients:

1 ¼ cup sugar
1/3 cup corn syrup
1/3 cup water
8 oz butter
1 teaspoon kosher salt
½ teaspoon baking soda
8 oz 62% dark chocolate, tempered

Preparation:

1. Have ready a large offset spatula and sheet tray lined with a silpat (or parchment paper).
2. Combine sugar, water, corn syrup, and butter in a shallow pot and bring to a boil over high heat.
3. Cook, stirring frequently, until the mixture is the color of peanut butter.
4. Remove from the heat and whish in the salt and baking soda.
5. Pour this out directly onto the silpat and spread out as evenly as possible with your spatula to ensure a thin toffee.
6. Invert the toffee onto another silpat, then remove the mat so as to be sure it is not stuck. Then invert the toffee again and wipe off any grease that may have formed on the surface with a paper towel.
7. Now pour your tempered chocolate* over the toffee and spread out into a thin, even, layer, and let sit until it is set completely.
8. Break into pieces and use to top your pot de crèmes (keeps in the refrigerator up to 4 days).

* At the restaurant we use a very simple technique for tempering chocolate. We fill a metal mixing bowl with our chocolate pieces, and melt it completely by letting it sit on top fo the stove. Using a double boiler works as well. Once you’re sure the chocolate is completely melted and smooth, let it sit in a cool part of the kitchen for about 15 minutes. As the chocolate on the insides of the bowl begin to set up, stir it back into the rest of the melted chocolate and let it sit some more until more chocolate has set on the sides of the bowl. Then stir that in as before. Continue the process of stirring the sides of the bowl until the chocolate until it feels cool on your lip. It will have a nice shine, and register 88 F on a thermometer. You are ready to pour.

Berries n' Cream with Meringue and Pistachios

Fresh fruit, whipped cream, who doesn't love that? Add some crunchy pistachios for a little salty nuttiness, and a surprising crumble of airy meringues, and you've got one winning dessert.

This is one of my favorite desserts to make, hands down, especially in the summertime when fruit is at its best. It's totally no-fuss, requires zero time by the stove, and is a breeze to whip together quickly for a weeknight treat or party.

Beautiful blueberries

Mix and match berries, or even peaches would be delicious. I'm obsessed with blueberries, so I've been loading up on them while they're in season. Simply sprinkle a little sugar on them, add some lemon juice and zest for a subtle layer of bright, citrus flavor, and let the berries sit for a bit to macerate and get juicy.

Photo Credit: Kai Yu

Then, generously spoon over some sweetened whipped cream, crush a few meringue cookies on top, and finish off with a handful of chopped pistachios. I adore the combo of the whipped cream and the meringues. The meringues add a delicate texture that is totally unexpected, and gives the dessert just a kiss of extra sweetness.

A Big Bowl of Yum!

Berries n' Cream with Meringue and Pistachios

Serves: 2

Ingredients:
1 pint fresh blueberries
1 tablespoon granulated sugar
Zest of 1 lemon
Juice of half a lemon
½ cup whipping cream
½ teaspoon vanilla
1-2 tablespoons powdered sugar (to taste)
2 meringue cookies, coarsely crumbled (Trader Joe's makes great vanilla meringues with tiny chocolate chips)
¼ cup shelled pistachios, coarsely chopped

Preparation:
1. Toss the berries, 1 tablespoon granulated sugar, lemon zest and juice in a medium bowl. Let stand until juices form, tossing occasionally, about 30 minutes.
2. Meanwhile, using an electric mixer, whip the cream until soft peaks form. Mix in the vanilla and powdered sugar.
3. Divide the berries into bowls or parfait glasses. Spoon the whipped cream on top. Crumble the meringue cookies over the cream, and sprinkle with pistachios.

Is your corned beef ready for simmering yet? Your potatoes set to be peeled and boiled, your cabbage simmered, your soda bread stirred up? It's too bad that no one thinks of smoked salmon and brown bread, thick bacon and Irish cheddar, champ and colcannon (to name but a few of the real delights of the Emerald Isle's table) when St. Patrick's Day comes around. Here in the States, it's corned beef and cabbage, corned beef and cabbage, to say nothing of the green beer and Irish coffees. (Alas, the Shamrock Shake, that minty McDonald's invention, is as rare as a four-leaf clover these days.)

As for the whiskey, well, an Irish blend would be only appropriate. You could follow the lead of the venerable Buena Vista, who serves 2000 Irish coffees a day, all spiked with Tullamore Dew. (After some 50 years using its own private label Irish whiskey, the bar switched to Tullamore in 2006.) Jameson's and Bushmills are the big boys, of course, and the players in a (somewhat spurious, given that both brands are now owned by enormous multinationals) Catholic vs. Protestant loyalty debate. Meanwhile, smaller brands like Red Breast, Power's, Midleton, Black Bush, Killbeggan, and The Tyrconnell all have their admirers. Care to compare? The Liberties in the Mission will be offering special tasting flights of some of the rarer Irish whiskeys all week long. There's also live music throughout the evening of the 17th, and a full menu with everything from smoked salmon on potato cakes to cross-cultural samosas stuffed with black pudding, bacon, and curried potatoes.

Now, I like my whiskey for sipping, for sure, but when you need to make a whole tableful of people happy with just one glass, nothing beats this Chocolate Whiskey Cake. Serving it at a recent birthday potluck, the question everyone asked after one bite was, "How much whiskey is in this??" Only a cup's worth for the entire generously-sized cake, but a liberal sprinkling after baking gives a potent warmth to every forkful.

The original inspiration came from food writer Melissa Clark's interpretation of a recipe in Maida Heatter's Book of Great Chocolate Desserts, first published in 1980. Clark's recipe ups the amount of whiskey (and salt) and boosts the chocolate quality. Remembering with longing the fantastic Chocolate Whiskey Cake served at Mrs. London's Bakeshop in Saratoga Springs, where my family would go every summer to follow the horseracing and bask in fine dining, I added in whiskey-soaked golden raisins, swapped out the espresso powder for straight-up strong coffee and cut back on both the salt and sugar, since I like my chocolate bittersweet.

Single-handedly, this cake could kick-start a Bundt-pan revival. Dense, rich, and moist, it's a cake for those who still like their cakes cake-like in texture, rather than in molten puddles or like wet bricks of fudge or cloying black holes of collapsed ganache. (If I want nothing but sheer chocolate and butterfat, I'll eat a truffle, thanks.) There's no need for fussy icings or fillings, and the sturdy shape makes transporting it a breeze, even on Muni. (Trust me, I've done it, even on the hill-twisting 67-Bernal Heights, not to mention the sardine-jammed 14-Mission.) If you'd really like to add a little gold to this pot, serve with with a cloud of whipped cream flavored with a wee bit of powdered sugar and another spoonful of whiskey.

Chocolate Whiskey Cake
Don't be tempted to use up that old yellow box of chalky supermarket baking chocolate on this cake. You're already making the investment in butter and whiskey; go all the way and buy a good-quality, name-brand chocolate. I used Ghirardelli, but local favorites Tcho and Guittard would work well, too. Same goes for the cocoa powder; skip the Hershey's and try the much more flavorful cocoas made by Ghirardelli, Scharffenberger, Valrhona, or Droste. And while Irish whiskey is the most appropriate for St. Patty's Day, all-American bourbon or rye is quite tasty, too.

Serves: 10 to 12

Ingredients:
1 cup Irish whiskey, plus more for sprinkling
1 cup golden raisins
5 ounces good-quality unsweetened chocolate
1 cup really strong coffee
2 1/2 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks, 8 oz) unsalted butter, softened, more for greasing pan
1 3/4 cups granulated sugar
3 large eggs
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
1 teaspoon baking soda
2 cups all-purpose flour, more for dusting pan

Confectioners’ sugar, for garnish

Preparation:
1. In a medium bowl, pour whiskey over raisins and set aside.

2. Grease and flour a 10-cup-capacity Bundt pan. Preheat oven to 325°F.

3. In a double boiler over simmering water, melt chocolate. Remove from heat and let cool.

4. In a measuring cup, dissolve cocoa powder and salt in hot coffee, then add to whiskey-raisin mixture. Let cool.

5. In a large bowl, cream 1 cup butter until fluffy. Add sugar and beat until well combined. Beat in the eggs one at a time, beating well between each addition. Beat in the vanilla extract, baking soda, and melted chocolate, scraping down sides of bowl with a rubber spatula.

6. Beat in a third of the whiskey mixture. When liquid is absorbed, fold in 1 cup flour. Repeat with a third of whiskey mixture, followed by remaining cup of flour. Add the last of the whiskey mixture, folding gently just until well mixed. Scrape batter into prepared pan. Bake until a cake tester inserted into center of cake comes out clean, about 1 hour 10 minutes.

7. Transfer cake to a rack. Unmold after 15 minutes. If you really want a potent whiskey flavor, sprinkle warm cake with about 2 tablespoons’ more whiskey. Let cool, then sift over confectioners’ sugar before serving.

The Commonwealth Club: The State of Pastry in SF INFORUM panel. Photo by Shing Wong.

It may be hard to believe, but there was a time—call it the 1990s—when people, even suave city folk like yourself, did not want salt in their caramels or bacon in their chocolate.

Indeed, what did the fancy folk want? Having spent most of that decade as a restaurant critic, I can tell you: they wanted crème brûlée. Ginger crème brûlée. Lavender crème brûlée, introduced at Absinthe by then-pastry chef Clare Legas.

Then molten chocolate cake slipped in. First simply warm and a little gooey inside, it morphed slowly into a volcano of bubbling chocolate lava held back by only the thinnests of crusts. Near the end of the decade, the endless forward march of glassy-topped custards was briefly interrupted by a wiggle of panna cottas. (Surely, at Delfina, some bill is paid purely by sales of their buttermilk panna cotta, a dessert that's never been off the menu in ten years.) There were flirtations with Asian flavors, a little green tea there, a spark of yuzu here.

Now, of course, you can't swing a puggle in this town without landing it face-first in someone's salted-caramel-bacon-gingerbread cupcake. Salt and bacon seem here to stay, as does anything cute and bite-sized. Olive oil ice cream (or olive oil over ice cream), curry sabayons, a creeping hint of soy and balsamic vinegar: savory has colonized our sweet, and that's the way we like it.

That was the takeaway from last Tuesday's INFORUM panel at the Commonwealth Club, where four of the city's most innovative pastry chefs gathered to discuss The State of Pastry in SF. On the panel were Luis Villavelasquez (Absinthe), William Werner (Quince), Elizabeth Falkner (Orson, Citizen Cake), and Bill Corbett, recently of Michael Mina. The questions tossed out by moderator Jessica Battalina, associate food editor of 7x7, were marshmallow-soft, but some interesting tidbits did arise.

On NYC vs. SF Pastry Styles:
Corbett: I spent 5 years cooking in New York before I came to California. New York chefs can't rely on getting really excellent produce all the time, so it forces their creativity.

(True: Would Momofuku's Christina Tosi be so obsessed with cereal milk if she had Betty Van Dyke's apricots in her backyard?)

Falkner: Here, we don't have time to screw around with stuff that's only going to be here for a couple of weeks, like elephant-heart plums or Indian red peaches.

On Wooing Diners to Weirdness:
Corbett: It helps to put it into a recognizable form. If I want to use beets, for example, I might use them in a red velvet cake, because everyone knows what that is.
Villavelasquez: In Japan, they use a lot of Okinawa blue potatoes, which are not well know here. But we do have sweet potato pie, so you could use them in something like that.

Of course, as artists as well as artisans, these chefs would love to play to an audience eager and willing for innovation. But then again, restaurants are businesses, and change comes at a price. Unfamiliar flavors tend to sneak via the fine print. At Quince, Werner gives his pear tart a bump with a side of rosemary ice cream. At Absinthe, the earthy sweetness of a carrot reduction plays off the mellow spice of a pumpkin custard, while at Orson, creole cream cheese and Tabasco gives a kick in the shins to sticky toffee pudding. Sometimes, though, two great tastes don't go great together. . .

Epic Fails?
Corbett: When I started at Michael Mina, I had lofty intentions—I was going to be the one to show customers how to break out. I did this chocolate plate that had a basil s'more, a tahini chocolate mousse. . . all that was fine until I put in this perfect cube of devil's food cake with black olives. Now, I love chocolate and olives, I think they go really well together. But I realized that when people saw what they thought was a piece of devil's food cake, they expected one thing. So, you can't make an unfamiliar thing look too familiar.
Werner: Anchovy croissants. It was a humbling experience.
Falkner: Trying to transport an elaborate wedding cake on a hot summer day in the backseat of an old Pinto with no A/C. I got to the Sherman House with the cake melted all over me, and they just looked at me, like, 'What kind of punk-ass are you'?

Current Obsessions?
Falkner: Hydrocolloids! That's what I say to everyone these days. I feel like that guy in The Graduate, telling Dustin Hoffman to get into plastics.
Werner: Persimmons, because I don't really like them. I'm forcing myself to use them and see what I can do.
Corbett: Squash. It's a very autumnal ingredient. You can put it in cake, foams, all kinds of things.
Villavelasquez: Coconut, bourbon, persimmons. I ask my chefs to think about how the season tastes. I'm also very into garam masala right now.

Classic and Perfect, or Provocative but Flawed?
Given the chance to enjoy a perfectly made, perfectly simple pear tart, or to taste a more experimental dish that didn't quite work, which would they pick?
Falkner: Pastry chefs don't eat dessert! Steak or a pizza, that's you want at the end of the day.

What about you, Werner? Do you order dessert?

Werner: Not unless the pastry chef sees me.

Only Villavelasquez admitted to dessert splurges, saving up to eat nothing but desserts—sometimes 4 or 5 in a sitting—at restaurants that intrigue him here or abroad. But all agreed that as creative artists interested in pushing, pulling and poking at the concept of the sweet course, they'd go for the flawed experiment every time.

Corbett: In a classic dessert, there's no tricks, nothing to hide. But for me right now the most exciting desserts are the ones that the most innovative and new.

Inspirations?
Falkner: Song titles or lyrics. We've got a dessert now called "Mesh and Lace." Sometimes the title comes first, like "Burning Down the House": you think, what would that be? Sometimes it's based on a gesture, something sculptural or conceptual, or wanting to create a texture that doesn't exist yet.
Villavelasquez: Asian and Japanese flavors and ingredients. There are a lot of innovative textures, ingredients, and spices that are unfamiliar here. Also, just putting 3 flavors out there and making them work.

So, What's the Next Bacon?
Corbett: Porcini syrup.
Falkner: Deeper salts. Olives.
Werner: Soy and miso.
Villavelasquez: I had a jasmine cupcake somewhere, and that led to a scone we're doing at Arlequin, with quince, jasmine, and earl grey tea. I'm thinking like a bartender these days, thinking about using floral syrups and waters like jasmine, violet, orange blossom. Lavender's used up. But in the end, it comes down to butter all the way.

Slideshow of State of Pastry in SF event: Photos by Shing Wong

Key Lime Coconut Cheesecake

I once created a dessert inspired by a body lotion I fell in love with one summer. It was a creamy Coconut Lime Verbena lotion, and as I slathered it over my body, with the seductively warm coconut scent mingling with the sweet floral citrus notes of the lime verbena, my mind wandered to dessert.

Surely, such a match made in heaven could come together in flavor as well as aroma.

And indeed it could...in what I call my Key Lime Coconut Cheesecake. This decadent treat is like the tropical love child of a refreshing, tart, key lime pie and a rich cheesecake…with a coconut cream pie floozie thrown into the mix.

The citrus cuts through the richness, giving this dessert a surprisingly light feel to it. The addition of sour cream also gives it a sense of airiness, unlike some other cheesecakes that end up feeling like a brick in your stomach. I love adding nuts to my dessert crusts whenever possible, and this is no exception. I chose cashews here for their subtle, buttery flavor. And then there is the crowning shower of toasted coconut flakes. The coconut brings out the nuttiness of the crust, and the extra texture adds interest.

It takes some forethought to make, since it's best served after chilling in the fridge overnight, but the wait is well worth it! Whip this up for your next BBQ or party and wait for the oohs and ahhs to rain down, you domestic goddess, you.

Key Lime Coconut Cheesecake

Makes: One (10 inch) cheesecake, serves 8-10

Ingredients:
Crust
1 package graham crackers (approx. 1 cup)
1 cup cashews
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1 tablespoon grated lemon zest

Filling
1 (12 oz.) container sour cream
2 (8 oz.) packages cream cheese, at room temperature
1 ¼ cup sugar
2 tablespoons grated lime zest
½ cup lime juice (if you can’t find key limes, substitute with regular limes)
¼ cup Malibu (optional)
2 teaspoons vanilla extract
4 large eggs, at room temperature

Topping
½ cup sweetened coconut flakes, toasted
Slices of lime for garnish

Preparation:
1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

2. Butter or spray the bottom of a 10 inch springform pan with nonstick cooking spray. Cover the outside of the pan in foil. Finely grind the graham crackers and cashews in a food processor. Add the melted butter and 1 tablespoon of lemon zest, and process until the crumbs are moistened. Press the crumb mixture over the bottom of the prepared pan. Bake until the crust is golden, about 15 minutes. Cool completely.

3. Mix together the sour cream, cream cheese, and sugar. Blend in the lime zest, lime juice, Malibu, and vanilla. Add eggs in one at a time.

4. Pour the cheese mixture over the crust in the pan. Place the pan in a large roasting pan. Create a hot water bath by pouring enough hot water into the roasting pan to come halfway up the sides of the baking pan. Bake until the cheesecake is golden and the center of the cake moves slightly when the pan is gently shaken, about 1 hour.

5. Sprinkle the toasted coconut on top. I just toast the coconut in a dry skillet over medium heat. Keep stirring it so it doesn't burn; it will toast up quickly. Garnish with lime slices.

6. Transfer the cake to a rack; cool 1 hour. Refrigerate until the cheesecake is cold and firm, at least 8 hours (best overnight).

The best summer desserts are simple to make, portable for picnics, and highlight the season's sweet, luscious fruit. Trifle would be at the top of my own list.

While its name might lead you to think that this dish is of little consequence, it belongs in the pantheon of fantastic frugal food, along with panzanella (another wonderful summer dish) and pain perdue (good anytime of the year or day). Back when little bits of bread or cake were far too valuable to toss away, even if stale as a board, cooks invented ingenious ways to use up every last crumb. Dry cake has a way of soaking up endless flavor and, in the process, transforming itself into a silken gift.

A recent pile of cake trimmings, a bit too much creme fraiche in my refrigerator, and a few overripe peaches, combined with favorite pantry staples, Knob Creek Bourbon and Sonoma Syrup, melted together into a most heavenly dessert. Sherry, amaretto, Cointreau, or even orange juice could have stood in for the simple syrup and booze, but do keep in mind that the English call this Tipsy Cake for good reason.

While trifle properly appears in a glass-footed, straight-sided bowl, making it in a portable container means you can bring this dessert to a picnic to share its goodness.

Following its humble, serendipitous origins, I think it best to avoid recipes when making trifle, as no two will be the same. (Otherwise, you've actually gone out to buy all the ingredients rather than looking around your kitchen for odds and ends to use up.) A quick run to the corner store is fine for one or two, but if you're ticking off every ingredient on the list while at a grocery store, then you've kinda, sorta lost the heart of this dish.

MAKING SUMMER TRIFLE

What you'll need:

1. Enough stale cake or cookies to fill 1/3 of your container.

2. Enough fresh, summer fruit to fill another 1/3. If you don't have enough, good-quality jam is good, too.

3. Enough yogurt, whipped cream, mascarpone, creme fraiche or similar creamy ingredient to fill the final 1/3.

4. Booze or juice sweetened gently with simple syrup or sugar or jam.

5. If desired, flavorful gilding such as vanilla, citrus zest, fresh herbs or cocoa powder.

Like a lasagna, it's all about layering and eyeballing. The most important steps are making sure the cake gets brushed with plenty of liquid and that it's in direct contact with the creamy diary. That's how it will melt into lusciousness. If you're fancy, you can take extra time to arrange the fruit into colorful layers, like those sand-filled souvenirs you see at truck stops.

Finish by smoothing the top with a creamy layer. You can reserve a few pieces of fruit for garnish later, or enjoy -- like I do -- that lovely expanse of white that magically hides so many layers beneath.

Now comes the tough part: waiting. The trifle needs its beauty rest just like we do. A four-hour nap in the fridge will bring together the ingredients, but eight hours is what it really needs, if not a full-on, twelve- to twenty-four hour deep sleep. After that, a few serving bowls and spoons are all you need to serve and enjoy.

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.

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.