Nut

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

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

There seems to be an irksome theme in dessert books suggesting that a particular cake or pastry be served “with tea, in the afternoon.” I don’t know who has time to sit around and sip tea in the middle of the day, but I know at least one person who can usually be found foraging in his kitchen in the late afternoon, on the prowl for something to snack on. This cake combines everything I crave: tangy plums, toffee with a bit of salt, and buttery cake. If you do take tea in the afternoon, I’m sure it’d be a fine accompaniment. But I’m happy to enjoy it all by itself, whenever I can.

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

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

An Italian acquaintance once pleaded, “Please—tell your American friends not to bring us any more maple syrup. Basta!” At first, I didn’t quite understand. I mean, who doesn’t love maple syrup? But then I remembered that while we Americans love to douse everything we can with the sticky stuff, Italians take their infamous 30-second breakfast by downing a quick espresso at their corner caffè and never belly up to a stack of pancakes or plate of waffles in the morning. Since I’m not Italian, any gifts of maple syrup are encouraged. And I promise not to save it just for breakfast.

To boost the reputation of the much-maligned fruitcake, I wanted to create a version quite different from those sticky, oversweet loaves riddled with iridescent fruit and soggy pecans. This recipe was my answer: an exceptionally moist loaf, chockablock with freshly toasted nuts, perky dried cherries, and a double wallop of chocolate flavor, courtesy of cocoa powder and lots of chocolate chips. I was glad that my modern-tasting fruitcake made converts out of those who tried it. But I didn’t expect that so many would want to give it a traditional soaking of spirits to preserve the cake. I set to work and experimented a few times, but I had a hunch that something was amiss when I noticed some movement underneath the gauze wrapping. I unwrapped the cake and . . . well, let’s just say I discovered I was only one of the many creatures who enjoy this fruitcake. That was the end of my experiments. Instead, I just use kirsch-flavored glaze that can be added at the last minute.

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

Cold meat, a gentle touch, and wet hands are the secrets to successfully shaping these kebabs. There are a few ingredients that may seem a bit peculiar, but I assure you they’ll make sense once you take a bite. The pistachios add a welcome touch of crunch, and sumac—a tart, slightly astringent spice available at any Middle Eastern market—lends the perfect bright boost of flavor. Serve with rice pilaf, pita bread, and Sriracha Tzatziki (page 23).

These salty/spicy/sweet treats are a definite crowd-pleaser, plus they make a great, inexpensive gift when the holidays roll around.

While certainly decadent enough on its own as a dip for crusty baguette or chewy ciabatta, this pesto is right at home as a base spread for all sorts of panini. Of course, it’s also a natural tossed in with penne or fusilli pasta (hot or cold), and it makes an excellent marinade or finishing sauce for chicken, salmon, or any delicate whitefish.

Whenever I use canteloupe to make paletas de melón or agua de melón, I like to save the seeds to make this drink. It’s quite tasty, and something about it makes me feel energetic.

Whenever I create a new dessert or want to reinterpret a classic one I am often inspired by other cuisines. During a visit to Italy I had a ricotta cheese granita and, although I have never seen one in Mexico, it inspired this raspado. I’ve incorporated apples, which are a classic pairing with cheese, to make a raspado that is unusual and unexpected—but certainly very, very tasty.

This recipe is inspired by a traditional Arab sweet that I adore, made from dried apricots and pistachios. Many of the sweets in Mexico have Arab influences due to the fact that Arabs occupied Spain for more than seven centuries. The Spanish in turn colonized Mexico, bringing some of those Arabic influences with them.

This recipe was first published in the New York Times as part of an article on different kinds of shaved ice. The paper’s Diner’s Journal blog asked readers to suggest different flavors, and I had to pick one and come up with a recipe. I chose horchata, a milky beverage often made with rice, because I thought it would go perfectly with the luscious, juicy strawberries that filled the market stands at that time. It’s worth seeking out Mexican cinnamon, as its flavor makes all the difference in this raspado. If you want a stickier, sweeter syrup, add another can of sweetened condensed milk.

I had a recipe for pecan paletas in my first cookbook, My Sweet Mexico, but I’m including a different version here because this flavor is one of my favorites. These ice pops are a bit sweeter and creamier than the ones in My Sweet Mexico because they’re made with sweetened condensed milk and half-and-half. Both versions are really delicious, and I’m still debating which I like best. It’s hard to find pecan extract here, but if you come across some, I recommend adding 1 teaspoon along with the vanilla for an even deeper nutty flavor.

There are few things in this world that I adore more than cajeta, a sticky, sweet goat’s milk caramel. It’s one of the most delicious treats. I love the slight acidity from the goat’s milk, and when combined with the creamy base in this ice pop, it’s simply sublime! You can make your own cajeta (the recipe is in My Sweet Mexico) or you can buy it at ethnic groceries, at specialty markets, or online.

In Mexico, chocolate is mainly used to prepare hot chocolate, so when you hear people say “Mexican chocolate,” or chocolate de mesa, they usually mean chocolate made for this purpose. It’s grainy because it’s basically toasted ground cocoa mixed with sugar, cinnamon, and sometimes vanilla, almonds, or both. I really love the fragrance of Mexican cinnamon, so I like to infuse some in the liquid for this ice pop to add more flavor. I decided to add little bits of chocolate and almonds to these paletas to give another layer of flavor and crunchiness. Who doesn’t love that?

Chocolate lovers, rejoice! Finally, a gourmet chocolate truffle that’s sugar-free and not artificially sweetened. These are so easy to make, you may never buy store-bought chocolate again. For a plain, unadulterated chocolate truffle, omit the hazelnut extract and roll the truffles in premium-quality unsweetened cocoa powder. For vegan truffles, substitute soy creamer for the heavy cream, butter substitute for real butter, and instant soy milk powder for the nonfat dry milk.

This is an all-time favorite recipe from my cooking classes. A trip to Paris inspired me to experiment more with prunes, and chocolate seemed like the perfect pairing. I think a good PR person could do a world of good for prunes! In spite of their somewhat dowdy reputation, prunes have a sophisticated taste that makes them an interesting recipe ingredient.