Calimyrna Figs. Not very good looking, are they?

I do wonder sometimes, how a recipe name evolves? If we look at this from the ethical side, the FDA side, then a food, a dish, should be named for its weight or volume substances, like the nutrition labels must show all the ingredients in descending order. But that doesn’t always tell the right story, does it? Even though Balsamic Vinegar is a very, very small part of this recipe, as you know, it has a very strong flavor. I would guess that’s how this sorbet came to have its name as BALSAMIC Fig Sorbet. But, really, chai tea is a more major ingredient by volume. But, well, is it really? If you just measure the dry chai tea in its bags, it would comprise the next to the last ingredient (balsamic brings up the rear). But when you brew chai tea with WATER, then the chai component becomes hefty. So, maybe this should be called CHAI Fig Balsamic Sorbet. Somehow, that doesn’t have the right ring to it, does it? Or, WATER Chai Balsamic Fig Sorbet. Oh my, much too big a dilemma for my brain this morning.

What I do know for sure, is that this sorbet is something other worldly. It’s sensational. And I really don’t like figs most of the time. My parents had a fig tree in the backyard when I was growing up, and mostly we ate the figs fresh off the tree. My mother made fig jam sometimes from it, and that I didn’t like one bit. I would eat them fresh, though. But my Dad loved Fig Newtons, and I can almost barf thinking of sinking my teeth into those millions of little seeds in a Newton. Yuck. Maybe it was really the jammy, stick goo that’s mixed with the seeds that turned me off of Newtons. So for any number of years I really thought I didn’t like figs. Certainly I didn’t like dried figs from whence Newtons were made. Fresh ones are a bit hard to find these days, although I’ve seen them at our very upscale markets at a very upscale price.

So, I went to a cooking class a few years ago and bingo, Andrew Schloss served this sorbet.

Never would I have prepared this by looking at the recipe or the title. I do drink tea, if you’ve read my post about making a “proper tea,” awhile back, you already know this about me. I like chai tea also. Occasionally I order a chai tea latte at Starbucks. Except they’re too sweet for me. Chai tea all by itself has just a hint of sweetness, a sweet underlayer all by itself provided by all those spices. It almost doesn’t need any sugar. But I probably wouldn’t have ever purchased the Bengal Spice tea (by Celestial Seasonings) without having it served to me in this sorbet. It is a necessary ingredient, so don’t be tempted to substitute black tea. The sorbet needs this spicy tea component. There may be some other chai teas that would work equally well, however; it’s just that this is what the chef used and I was absolutely delighted with it. You’ll notice this sorbet has a kind of brown tinge. It’s the tea and figs that do it. Well, and the balsamic too. Don’t be turned off by the color. Serve it on a pretty plate or bowl and try a cookie beside it.

I don’t know anything about Andrew Schloss other than the fact that he wrote this cookbook called “Almost From Scratch.” He was an engaging instructor, and I’ve referred to his cookbook several times (of course I bought the cookbook, right?). But this is the recipe that will maintain his name in my brain cells. The book is already out of print. Amazon’s raters gave it 5 stars. Hmm. Maybe I need to go look at that cookbook again for some other ideas.

So unless you just hate the actual taste of figs, or cannot abide chai tea I highly encourage you to try this. I’ve served it several times to family and friends. My suggestion is: don’t tell them what it is. Just tell them it’s a sorbet. Or a chai sorbet. That should be sufficient. The chai tea gives the sorbet this heavenly fragrance. It just roams around amongst your taste buds, then you begin to get the fig (maybe) and then the hint of balsamic. The sorbet doesn’t require an ice cream machine – it’s all done in your freezer and with a food processor. Several times I’ve thought about making this with milk, just to see what it would taste like. Hmm. Then it would be an ice milk, or an ice cream. Or a gelato. Let’s see: Chai Milk Fig Balsamic Gelato. Maybe I need to go back to the drawing boards for recipe names on this one. But either way, the recipe is easy, really. And whatever you name it, make it.
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As a confirmed chocoholic, I know my chocolate. And chocolate sauces. I don’t buy ready-made. Why bother to buy it when you can make it so easily? Maybe twice a year I make this sauce, my favorite, Regal Chocolate Sauce, and when it’s gone, it’s gone. When the grandkids visit I sometimes buy the Hershey’s squirt bottle, which they love. But, this sauce is far and away my favorite.

Year ago I was in a Newcomer’s Club, and the group decided to publish a cookbook of members’ recipes. A couple of my recipes are in the book, plus this one, from a friend I made in the club. Over the years I’ve tried several of variations. The Los Angeles Times did an in-depth investigation into home made chocolate sauces some years ago and I tried a couple of them. Nope. Didn’t measure up in my book. I have tried recipes using heavy cream, a lot more butter, corn syrup instead of sugar, and various types of chocolate including milk. A friend shared her mother-in-law’s coveted recipe. Nope. Not that one, either. Why do I bother to try all these others? I have the best recipe already. It’s incredibly easy. What I like about it is that it doesn’t get chalky as it ages in the refrigerator. And you can make it in the microwave in a Pyrex measuring bowl, or heat it on the range if you want to have more control. You never want to overcook pure chocolate. Then pour it into a glass container, cool and refrigerate. Then when I need it, I merely remove the lid and heat briefly – very briefly – in the microwave, until it’s just thin enough to pour and you’re done.

I’ve even tried the recipe using Scharffen Berger chocolate, and Valrhona too. They are good, and you can certainly substitute them for the German chocolate. What is it about the German chocolate? I’d forgotten what was unique about it:

• German’s Chocolate dates back to 1852, when an American named Sam German created a sweet baking chocolate bar for the Baker’s Chocolate Company. This new chocolate had sugar added to it, as a convenience for bakers. But that all important apostrophe and “s” were soon dropped from “German’s.” In 1828, Dutch chocolate maker C. J. Van Houten invented the cocoa press. This machine squeezed cocoa butter out of the beans and treated the cocoa with an alkalizing agent to improve the color and flavor. The process became known as “dutching,” and cocoa processed this way is called Dutch chocolate.

So, Dutch chocolate, because of the use of an alkalizing agent is a milder form of chocolate. I’m a dark chocolate fan, so it’s interesting that I prefer the milder chocolate in this sauce. And speaking of Dutch chocolate, you may not have heard about this fabulous liqueur, Vermeer Dutch Cream. It’s very similar to Bailey’s, but it’s chocolate based rather than coffee/chocolate. It is made with Dutch chocolate. You have to seek out a retailer for it, as it’s a bit hard to find. It would make a great gift to a friend who is a chocoholic, or try it yourself. (As with Bailey’s, you should keep it refrigerated, and shake it up each time you intend to use it.) Note that the bottle has a Vermeer painting on the front The Girl with the Pearl Earring, the one that inspired Tracy Chevalier to write the novel about her (wonderful book, by the way, if you haven’t read it). Here’s a photo of the bottle, at left.

So, back to chocolate sauce – try my Regal Chocolate Sauce. You can use any form of chocolate you like. Try it on a little bit of good-quality vanilla ice cream with a few toasted almonds on top. Oh yes. (Photo at bottom from Vermeer Dutch Cream’s website.)

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Lest you think that I bake a pie, cake or cookies nearly every day, I don’t. I made this about 2 weeks ago when our daughter, her husband and grandchildren were here – we had 9 for dinner, and I made two pies. The leftovers from this are long gone. But, here’s the story . . .

What a funny name, Millionaire Pie, huh? This recipe goes w-a-a-y back in my life. For a couple of difficult years (during my first marriage) I lived in Oklahoma City. A born and bred California girl sometimes doesn’t adapt well to such a different place. Lots of things contributed to my unhappiness there: the obsession – absolutely maniacal obsession I’m talking about – with football for one. Hunting and fishing for another. Beer for one more. I don’t do football, hunting, fishing OR beer. I didn’t drink much during that time in my life – I hadn’t discovered wine yet, but beer was not on my list at all. The weather was another formidable obstacle (wind, more wind, heat and tornadoes). And shopping was not what I was used to. Yes, there was one department store, but mostly it was out of my price range. Yes, there were drug stores. And yes, there were grocery stores, but they didn’t carry lots of the things I was used to – fresh tortillas for one thing. Fresh fish for another thing.

At the time I lived there (this was the early 70’s) there was not a single place in Oklahoma City where you could buy fresh fish. Zip-zero-nada. Frozen was all that was available, and very a meager selection at that – mostly fillet of sole, cod or shrimp. Or frozen fish sticks – those were available in most markets. But that was IT. Cilantro? They’d never heard of it. There were very few good restaurants – at least that I thought were good. Oklahoma is a BEEF state, so you can find steaks and burgers and not much else. In the ensuing 30 years, I’m certain the restaurant and grocery situations have improved. I don’t mean to give OKC a bad rap, but I found it really tough to be a very imaginative cook. Fortunately I didn’t stay there long.

But during those two years my family frequented a modestly upscale cafeteria called Furr’s. It’s still going strong in about 6 states. Unlike the buffet dining establishments now popular here in Southern California for the big-on-appetite and short-on-funds, in the 1970’s this was a fairly nice restaurant, and all their food was home made. I don’t remember much about the place now but this was a favorite dessert. The origin of the pie – and hence its name – was that during WW II there were lots of food items cooks couldn’t get, and if you were able to find pineapple and walnuts, you must be rich (a millionaire). And while I lived there the local paper printed the recipe for this pie. There is a website out there called copykat recipes (famous and not-so-famous restaurant recipes), and it has a similar one for this pie as well in case you want to research this or other restaurant favorites. Its version suggested using Eggbeaters or similar product in lieu of the raw egg, which is probably a very good idea.

It’s a baked pie shell, filled first with a butter/sugar layer that firms up when refrigerated, then it’s topped with pineapple and walnuts, folded into whipped cream. Not difficult. And if you used Trader Joe’s pie crust shells it’d be a cinch. I didn’t, so made a short tart shell and put it into a regular pie plate. Once baked and cooled, I filled the shell and covered the completed pie with plastic wrap and refrigerated it until ready to serve. I used fresh pineapple, and added more than the recipe indicated and also sprinkled additional pineapple and nuts on top of the pie. It will hold for a couple of days, but I think it’s probably better to serve the same or the next day. So, here’s to the old Furr’s.
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My photo is missing something – the topping of whipped cream and chocolate curls. Sorry about that. We had two different pies that night and this one went in a flash, so I had to grab the last piece for a picture.

Silk pie was popular during the 1960’s and maybe it’s even older than that. I had it at a bridal shower way back then, and was amazed at the texture and subsequently was served it several times by others. It’s kind of a mousse type whipped filling. And that’s my guess as to why it’s called a French Silk Pie. It is whipped up – a lot – to a mousse type consistency.

The recipe calls for raw eggs. The chocolate silk is not cooked at all – the pie shell is, but the filling is merely beaten up and chilled. Remember when we used to use raw eggs all the time? I still do when I make Caesar dressing. I used raw eggs in this recipe because I bought the eggs from a supermarket, where I know the eggs have been stored (chilled) well and there is, supposedly, very minimal risk of salmonella. If you had any concern, though, about the raw eggs, I’d just use double the amount of egg whites rather than yolks and whites or use Eggbeaters instead.

If you’re not much for homemade pie crusts, this could easily be made in a ready-made graham or chocolate graham shell. Or even crushed Oreos would work too. Since it’s so fluffy and light (although I will admit this is FAR from low calorie!) it needs some kind of texture.
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If you haven’t ever had Panna Cotta, you’re missing a big treat. And, if you’ve never had it, it’s hard to describe: it’s not custard; it’s not like mousse either; it’s not clotted cream; nor is it like a pie filling. But it is creamy, yummy. I guess you’ll just have to try it to find out. I’ve had it out and I’ve made it before, although this time I made it in muffin cups. I wanted to use ramekins, but I didn’t have enough for the family crowd we had over. A shopping expedition to Target didn’t yield any ramekins, either. I wasn’t about to drive to Williams-Sonoma just for ramekins. So I bought this new-fangled kind of silicone muffin tin. Each of the silicone cups are removable and they slide easily into their custom muffin tray. Since they’re small, however, I filled them right up to the top, which yields one half cup. So because of that, the recipe made 12 pannas using this recipe.

Strawberries are at their peak and waning, so I wanted to use berries with it. In the past I’ve made a Joanne Weir recipe for panna cotta, but I thought I’d try Ina Garten’s recipe instead, which uses more yogurt. Dave and I are stuck on Fage yogurt (Trader Joe’s, $3.60 low fat). It’s a strained (thicker) yogurt. It comes in non-fat, low fat and full fat. Interestingly, I had a hard time getting the pannas out of the muffin cups – you might not know the difference if you’ve never had this – the blobs of panna aren’t as perfect as you’d have at a restaurant. But, it made no difference whatsoever in the taste.

It’s very easy to make (must be made ahead, though) and spends some time resting in the refrigerator. An hour before serving the berries were sliced and balsamic added and the black pepper. Actually, since I wasn’t sure people would really like the pepper, we added it as a garnish on the berries rather than adding it to the berries in the bowl.

A note about the balsamic – I’m embarrassed to tell you that I have at least 4 bottles of balsamic vinegar on my pantry shelf. One bottle is cheap. Not very good either, but I use it in salad dressings or marinades only. Another is a middle grade, a bit thicker in texture and much more tasty. I use it in cooking when I know I’ll be able to tell the difference. A third bottle is a very expensive one, an aged balsamic I bought in Italy from a unique little shop that only carried wine and balsamic – it’s the cream of the crop, is almost the consistency of a light syrup. You could sip it from a spoon it’s so good. That one is reserved for the occasions when a drizzle is truly a garnish on a dish that prides itself on the balsamic quality. And, I had a bottle of pear balsamic on my shelf too. I don’t even remember where I got it, but I took a tiny taste before using it to see if it was appropriate for this dish. Since this was a fruit dessert, I thought it would be ideal. Loved it. Will I make this recipe again? You betcha.
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The extra, beautifully ripe apricots were languishing in the refrigerator, so I needed to use them up. I made a small batch of ice cream using David Lebovitz’s recipe from his book, The Perfect Scoop. I’ve mentioned his cookbook before – click here for my previous post about his Roasted Banana Ice Cream. I’m fortunate to have a wonderful ice cream machine that doesn’t require you to freeze the bowl first – it’s a commercial style machine made by Cuisinart – but manufactured for the home kitchen. I’ve been in love with this machine since Dave bought it for me about 3 years ago.

I read several other recipes before I decided which to use. But, everything I’ve had and heard about Levobitz’s recipes led me to believe that his would be especially good. First you poach the apricots in a little water, add sugar, puree them in a blender, and add heavy cream, a hint of almond extract and another hint of lemon juice. I don’t think I’ve ever made a recipe that called for 3 drops of any kind of extract – food coloring yes, extract, no. Hence the almond flavor mostly disappears in the mixture. The same with the lemon juice. It calls for a few drops of lemon juice, but my recipe program doesn’t allow for “a few” as a measurement, so I changed it to 1/2 teaspoon, although I added more than that since I just squeezed a bit – probably more like 2 teaspoons at least. Then I poured it into the machine and 50 minutes later it was done. I didn’t even chill the mixture first as it says in the recipe. So, how is it? Sinfully delicious. The intense apricot flavor slides right on through in your mouth. We haven’t technically eaten it yet, although I licked the beater just to make sure it was okay (grin).
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This is the height of apricot season, folks. I bought a small flat of them at Costco last week, and I mean to tell you, they are perfect. I let them sit out on the kitchen counter for 3 days and they reached the peak of ripeness. Half I used in the above cake, and the other half are in the refrigerator and I may try apricot ice cream. In any case, I’ll cook those remaining apricots today or tomorrow before they’re over the hill. As you probably know, apricots have a short time of perfection. Too green and they have no taste. Too ripe and they’re mushy and they go downhill in rapid order from there. So, remember this recipe, either right NOW, or wait until next year.

Another cooking instructor who has provided me with any number of favorite recipes is Tarla Fallgatter. Here’s a blurb I found about her on the internet:

Tarla Fallgatter is a well-known Orange County caterer, chef, teacher, restaurant consultant and kitchen tool manufacturer. She trained at Paris’ Cordon Bleu, La Varenne, and Ecole Lenotre cooking schools, and was the first foreign woman to cook in the kitchens of Maxim’s. She has traveled to over 60 countries throughout the world, “sampling” the local cuisine. She markets her “Tarla” all-copper rolling pin in fine cookware shops.

Tarla used to teach at the Irvine Fine Arts Center (fairly elementary classes). She still teaches at A Store for Cooks, and she also teaches a private group of wives who live in Coto de Caza (a very upscale, gated neighborhood in south Orange County). My friend Cherrie was invited to attend one of those classes about 5 years ago through a friend of hers, and as a substitute, I’m invited too. I can choose to attend or not. This recipe came from one of the Tarla classes I attended.

So, I have a funny story to tell about almond paste. When I went to make this the other day, I knew I had some almond paste. I found 3 boxes. How about that. All imported from Denmark. All hard as rocks. (Now you also need to know that at the class about this cake, Tarla told all of us that we couldn’t substitute marzipan for almond paste – okay – got that – and she told us that almond paste doesn’t store well. It’s not that it spoils. It gets hard, and there’s no recovering it once it gets that way.)

Okay, so I have these 3 boxes in my pantry. No dates on any of them. Guess what? All hard. Uhm. What do I do. I really didn’t want to make another trip to the store, so I thought – maybe I can recover the almond paste. I’ll put it in the microwave with a bowl of hot water and let it steam a bit. Surely that would help, right? Wrong. Five minutes later all I got was hot, hard almond paste. My dear hubby saved the day – he said he’d go to the market for me. Here’s what almond paste looks like.

Ideally you bake the cake and the apricots at the same time (saves energy, obviously). So I got the apricots all ready to roast, then I went to work on the cake. Cautions about the cake:

1. make sure you use an 8-inch cake pan, not 9-inch (cake will be too shallow).

2. make certain you finely chop or tear off almond paste pieces – you don’t want little nuggets of almond paste in the cake.

3. don’t forget the parchment paper step in the cake pan – it needs it – even in a nonstick pan.

The apricots are easy to make and the sauce is delish. The cake is extremely moist and the almond flavor is not subtle – it’s right there – but that is what makes the cake so good. Try it.
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When I was in Berkeley 2 weeks ago Cherrie and I went on a tour of the Scharffen Berger chocolate factory. It was just a few blocks from our hotel near the waterfront and my GPS drove us right to the door in the industrial section of town. The factory itself was a big surprise – it’s quite small. Having once visited the Nestle plant in Pennsylvania, I was expecting something dramatic, especially with the panache garnered by the Scharffen Berger line.

As I think I explained before, John Scharffenberger (spelling intentional) came to some reknown as a winemaker. After a couple of decades producing some very fine sparkling wine (a favorite of mine, his to be specific), he sold the business. Then he was approached by Robert Steinberg, a friend, and now his partner in Scharffen Berger, and they decided to start a chocolate manufacturing company, but only producing a high quality – European style – product. They purchased European, i.e. old, equipment. They wanted to capitalize on the known Scharffenberger name, but John had sold the rights to it with the winery. So, they merely added a space between the n and the b and made it into Scharffen Berger. It wasn’t quite building a business in a garage, but close to it.

They don’t make chocolate every day. Although likely some pieces of equipment are running most days. The roaster (the red thing right) was in a separate room (warm and if running, very noisy). The building probably isn’t 300 feet long and about 200 feet wide, and not only housed the factory floor, but offices, a restaurant and a store. Did I spend money in there? Well, to be sure. Did we taste chocolate? Oh yes, indeed. Probably the most important thing I learned there was about how to eat a piece of chocolate: put it into your mouth, hold it on the middle of your tongue, up against the roof of your mouth, and allow it to completely melt on your tongue. Don’t chew. Don’t move it around. You’ll savor the flavors far better, and it’ll last longer besides. Kind of like how you taste wine.

To the left is the photo of the cocoa bean crusher. A huge cauldron – I mean huge – of swirling, melting chocolate and the crusher rolling around in the middle. So, it was on a blog a few months ago that I read about a recipe in the new cookbook published by the Scharffen Berger partners, The Essence of Chocolate. Liking chocolate as I do, I made it and oh – my – goodness.
What flavor. Not all that difficult. I like bundt cakes, and this one doesn’t require anything but the cake itself. It does have a caramel sauce that is poured over the hot-out-of-the-oven cake, but otherwise, nothing else. No garnishes, although you could serve with a bit of vanilla ice cream. It’s rich enough, however, as it is. I will include the nutritional information about the cake, but for heaven’s sake, whatever you do, don’t read it. I’m going to put it in the smallest type available on this blog.
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I’m an avid reader of Cooks Illustrated. The magazine, founded and edited by Chris Kimball, is about recipes, of course, but the interesting difference is the fine tuning the developers do with each and every subject. Now you can buy special book editions of Cooks Illustrated recipes.

I’ve been a magazine subscriber, though, for probably 20 years. They take no advertising whatsoever, and each issue is about 24+ pages long. Each contains maybe 10 articles altogether, so it’s not overwhelming. They take a subject — like cabbage, let’s say, or brownies in this case — and they not only develop the recipe or a group of recipes, but the writer explains the process in great length and detail. I like that – I enjoy reading about the trials and errors. That may not be for everybody, however. So they talk about the ingredients process, sometimes the chemistry behind food combinations, and explain why using something in the recipe didn’t work and how she/he/they finally found the “right” recipe. Of course, it’s just their opinion, but I’ve rarely been disappointed by any of C.I. recipes. They also do taste tests of canned or bottled items – like tomatoes, (Muir Glen won the last time they tested them) or paring knives, or pie crust shells. That kind of thing.

So, back to brownies. This recipe was printed in April, 2004. The recipe developers and authors, Erika Bruce and Adam Ried, worked on this recipe for awhile to come up with their combination. After reading the article I just had try it. I was doing a dinner party that weekend for a fairly sizable crowd, and wanted something like finger food for dessert. The brownies were prepared, baked, and about an hour before the guests arrived I carefully cut them up and delicately balanced rows of them on an elevated cake stand and covered them with plastic wrap so they wouldn’t dry out before people got around to eating them. People began to arrive and someone oohed and aahed over the large stand full of brownies. She reached in and grabbed one and ate it right then. She was in ecstasy, she said. So, someone else had to have one. Then someone else. About a third of the brownies were gone before I’d even served appetizers (*$%!+$). But the consensus was that these were the best brownies. Do I agree?Absolutely. I’ve made them several times since then, just not recently.

So when I was telling my younger daughter, Sara, about the creation of my blog a couple of months ago, she immediately piped up and said,”Mom, the Best Ever Brownies have to go on your blog.” Now she’s an affirmed chocoholic from wa-a-ay back. But, this being 2007, I’d almost forgotten about them, lo these many years ago (3). Since I had a hankering for some chocolate today, and I’m meeting my friends Joan, Janet and Darlene later this afternoon for coffee, I thought I’d surprise them with a little treat. We have a new Peet’s that’s opened up about 4-5 miles away (we have another one closer, but it’s small). The new one is large and has lots of outdoor seating. And it’s not that crowded yet. I do love Peet’s coffee – they have a corner on the foam market in my book. I know, some people don’t like or want foam, but I love it. Theirs is dense and flavorful. Always. We buy our regular drinking coffee from Peet’s and have for years. I make espresso mostly, but Dave drinks Peet’s Decaf Sumatra nearly every day.

These brownies aren’t all that unusual, really. If you put the ingredients side by side with other brownie recipes you might not find much difference. It probably has more eggs – 4 – and not a lot of flour (although it is cake flour) which gives them a bit of a chiffon texture, so they’re not as cakey as some. There is a punch of chocolate in these, but they make 24, so really 6 ounces isn’t all that unusual. The color of the finished brownie is more like cocoa, or milk chocolate, but there isn’t any of either in the brownies. The chocolate flavor is certainly there, but it’s not like these are dense or chewy.
I’ve used Ghiradelli chocolate and Lindt too. And now I really like using Scharffen Berger. But in’04 people hadn’t gotten into designer chocolate like they have now. When I entered the recipe into my recipe program I noted back then that I didn’t have any unsweetened chocolate (which is what it calls for), so I’d used Valrhona dark instead and cut down on the sugar. Funny thing. I didn’t have any unsweetened chocolate today, either, so I used Trader Joe’s Bittersweet (it’s a Belgian chocolate) and reduced the sugar by about 1/3. The pan preparation is a bit unusual – you line the pan in both directions with foil (leaving the edges hanging over the sides, which you use to grab ahold of when you’re removing them), then spray the foiled pan with baking spray (the kind that has both oil and flour in it). I forgot to sprinkle the pecans on the top of these, as directed, but mixed them into the batter instead. Whatever you do, don’t overbake these, and it’s easy to do. I rely on my handy-dandy cake tester whenever I bake. My oven runs a few degrees hot, so I always cut down the temp by at least 5 degrees, sometimes 10, and reduce the baking time. These took 27 minutes today at 315 degrees.

You could make a half of a recipe, which might be less dangerous to have around. These freeze nicely, however. See how long these last in YOUR house! And Sara, these are for you.
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This isn’t my recipe. It’s from a new book on the horizon called The Perfect Scoop, by David Lebovitz. So, how’d I find out about it? From reading food blogs, of course (The Traveler’s Lunchbox, to be exact)! Early in my blog reading, I heard about David Lebovitz and soon subscribed to his very entertaining blog.

David is an American in Paris (can you hear Gershwin’s music trilling?), although he worked for 13 years at Chez Panisse in Berkeley. I talked a bit about the dinner we had last week at that restaurant, and I recall one of the waiters mentioning the favorite dessert there is whatever cobbler is on the menu. Interestingly, David Lebovitz just wrote up a blog posting about a new rendition of cobbler using polenta, click here, and he talks about his stint at Chez Panisse. And totally off the subject of food – I sent out (to a bunch of my friends) a link to his blog after reading his “take” on Europeans, the French, the Italians, and the Americans on the subject of B.O. It’s also about the very American expression we hear everywhere, “Oh my God.” His write up is LOL (that’s cyberspeak for laugh out loud) funny. If you’re interested, click here. If you read it, read the comments at the bottom – they’re almost as funny as his blog posting.

How do you segue from body odor to ice cream. With difficulty, I think. But trudge on, I say. I tried this recipe from reading the blog, and once the book came out I ordered it for myself on Amazon for $16.47 (hardback). The book is chock full of very unusual combinations. Here’s a sampling of ice creams, sorbets or granitas in the book: Sweet Potato Ice Cream with Maple-Glazed Pecans, Roquefort-Honey Ice Cream, Oatmeal Raisin Ice Cream, Malted Milk Ice Cream (one of his favorites, he says), Chocolate-Coconut Sorbet or Black Currant Tea Ice Cream. He also includes some cookie or bar recipes that he calls “vessels” for serving ice cream. And he adds in a few toppings like glazed or candied nuts or fruits.

After falling in love with Banana Gelato at Gelato Vero in San Diego (see previous post about this) I was certain I’d like this rendition. You roast the ripe bananas in the oven with brown sugar and butter, then scrape out every last bit from the pan, and mix with the milk base, chill, and freeze. The brown sugar comes through, and it has a very full, rounded flavor of the bananas and caramel. It disappeared in no time, although I did serve it to guests, so there wasn’t much left after that. The best part is it’s low in calories and fat – yes, really, just 4 g of fat per serving – see nutrition info just below the recipe.
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