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David Lebovitz Archives: Recipes
Goat Cheese Custards with Strawberries in Red Wine Syrup

When I moved to Paris, I moved a whole ton of stuff with me. Plus one yellowed scrap of paper. It was a recipe that I tore out of some newspaper eons ago, for Goat Cheese Custard.
I had high hopes for the recipe, enough to schlep it with me across the Atlantic and look at it wistfully every once in a while, guarding it for almost a decade, until I finally got around to making it this week.
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My Killer App Candied Peanut Recipe

Let's get right to the point: this is my killer app recipe, the one I go to more than anything else. I could tell a million stories about this, but I'll just skip all that stuff for now and scoot right to the goods.
I love these peanuts! Not only are they absolutely scrumptious and the easiest candy you can make, but if you keep a sack of raw almonds or peanuts on hand, you can make them in about 10 minutes. Tied into a little sack, they're a great hostess gift in lieu of a bottle of wine (and cheaper!), and I serve them often as a cocktail snack, or after dinner, in a bowl for everyone to dig into.
I also like to mix these candied peanuts in just-churned ice cream, which I'm going to do with this particular batch, along with a swirl of homemade dulce de leche. A handful chopped and sprinkled over a spinach salad or batch of cole slaw would be pretty terrific, for those looking for savory apps. And at the risk of infuriating any purists, topping a bowl of Asian noodles.
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Parisian Prune Desserts

Chocolate-Prune Tiramisù
Skip the chocolate, I'll take prunes.
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Unusual Ice Cream Recipes

Here's a little round-up of some of the inspiring (and unusual) ice cream flavors that folks have been churning up...
Brian goes nuts with Gianduja Gelato.
Clotilde goes for simplicity with her lightning-fast Super Simple Nutella Ice Cream.
Deb's Butterscotch Ice Cream looks scooper-duper!
Ricotta and Honey Ice Cream from Melissa sounds like a perfect match for the summer fruits just around the corner.
The Kitchn takes a whirl with my Guinness Milk Chocolate Ice Cream.
Le Bernardin's pastry chef Michael Laiskonis whips up Brown Butter Ice Cream.
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Carrot Cake, French-Style

An American pal said to me the other day, "The French like carrot cake. You just can't tell them what's in it first." Indeed, I remember making an all-American dinner for some friends and when I'd mentioned "carrot" cake coming afterwards, the look on their faces was like, "WTF?"
One mouthful, and of course, they loved it. But then again, you could slather cream cheese frosting on an Michelin tire and it would be enticing as well. There's a certain amount of chefs in France who are experimenting with vegetables in desserts, with mixed results—a gâteau au fenouil (Fennel Cake) I had at Le Grand Véfour comes to mind which, after a few bites, the waiter swiftly offered to replace.
Much of it may be attributed to cultural differences. After all, when was the last time any of you Americans out there looked forward to digging in to a pile of sausages made from the bowels of pigs?
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Seaweed Cookies

Last week, I was making my weekly ice cream deliveries to the vendors at my local market, which was especially necessary since my freezer was super jam-packed and begging for relief. (Which you may have seen when I inadvertently bared-all in my kitchen slide show.) When I stopped by to drop off a pint to my pal Régis, who sells salt at the market, I immediately honed in on a big basket he had heaped full of tiny sacks of bright green seaweed-flecked salt. He opened one, waved it under my nose, then handed it to me to play around with at home.
The first thing I did was add it to some eggs I was scrambling in the center of some fried rice, and it was excellent. Then I thought it would be delicious sprinkled over cold soba, thin Japanese buckwheat noodles. And it was. So I kept going and made a jeon, a big Korean pancake, which was another hit, too.
I'm on a roll!
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Candied Bacon Ice Cream

Who doesn't like bacon and eggs?
Ok, maybe vegans. And folks who are kosher. And people who don't eat eggs. Or those who don't like bacon. But I'm not sure that's possible. (I have a great bacon joke, but it's not 'pc', so I'd better keep it to myself.)
I'm a big fan of both bacon and the beautiful, bright-orange yolked eggs we get in France, so why confine them to breakfast? I was pretty sure Candied Bacon Ice Cream would work. I mean, it's got salt. It's got smoke. So why not candy it? Inspired by Michael Ruhlman, l wanted to see what would happened when they all got together.
Candying the bacon was a hoot. Being in an experimental mood, I tried everything from agave nectar to maple syrup to dark raw cassonade sugar.
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Kimchi...Revisited

If it seems to you like I've stopped hanging out the chocolate shops of Paris and now spend my days in Korean épiceries, stocking up on gochujang, cochutgaru, and gokchu garu, you're right. The odd thing is that the Koreans understand me better than the French. They're always surprised when I speak a few words of Korean and last week, I met some wonderful Korean gals that were pretty shocked to see me filling my basket with chile peppers, fermented shrimp, and garlic-chili paste.
Since the state of recipes—like my French—are always in a state of flux, after my first batch of cabbage kimchi (which came out pretty darn good), I kept thinking of ways to improve it. That, coupled with a newfound addiction to fried rice with kimchi, meant I was going through it at an alarming rate. Plus in my first batch, the color wasn't as brilliant as I liked—although it made a pretty good bowl of kimchi soondobu jjigae...if I do say so myself.
So I headed over to Ace Mart, loaded up my (reusable) shopping bag, and armed with The World's Most Expensive Scallions (3.8€, or $5.50 a bunch), I set out to make the penultimate batch of kimchi.
I also bought some very, very thinly-sliced, threadlike dried red peppers since they were too beautiful to pass up.
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A Butterscotch Pudding Recipe, Without Losers

I recently got hooked on Le Grand Perdant 2. Unlike French cinema, which has a way of importing the best of America, French television has a way of importing the worst of America. Which often means reality shows. I have little patience for watching women named Bambi and Jennie compete for husbands named Tristan and Chad, but at least this one has a positive spin.
Even people voted off have achieved a personal goal of fitness and weight loss. So The Biggest Loser 2 isn't necessarily The Biggest Winner. Call me sappy, but it's nice to see a program where competitors support each other to achieve their goals.
I guess I've been away from the states for too long...I know, I know...pas américain!
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The Olympic Seoul Chicken Recipe

I've been doing a dance with my oven all week. We've been circling each other; it mocking me because I'm afraid of being nailed by the door.
I, on the other hand, have a thing about eating. Call me crazy.
So we've tentatively called a truce for the next few days until I can get a handle on things around here.
Because I also need to get a handle on the massive amount of kimchi I've got fermenting around here (and there's more to come, if you can believe it...), I pulled up a great recipe that I'd tucked away from Arthur Schwartz's website for Olympic Seoul Chicken.
New Yorkers will remember Arthur as the host of a popular radio program in the city for well over a decade and he's knowledgeable about everything from traditional Neapolitan cooking to where to get the best babka in the Big Apple.
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Chez Panisse Almond Tart

Last week, when I had to go into my local France Telecom office, instead of the usual dread, a thought flashed through my mind: "Well, at least this might make a good story for the blog."
But I want to spare you all that stuff so you can concentrate on the glories of Paris rather than the indignities that we citizens of the state must suffer under a regime that seeks to oppress the masses of the working people, who pay exorbitant prices for mobile phone service (and scallions...but that's another story), who under the guise of state-run socialism are actually in cahoots with the only two other service providers that France Telecom will allow them to compete with themselves (yes...you read that right) so that we can pay 35 centimes a minute to make a call.
I don't know what one has to do with the other, but thanks for letting me vent. Oh, after I left their office I stepped a big mess on the sidewalk...the first time in three years.
Mais oui.
However I'd like to stay focused, if I can, and talk about the Chez Panisse Almond Tart.
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Blood Orange Sorbet

For some reason, people think I eat out all the time. While I like eating in restaurants, I don't like being served something that I don't like. (Funny, huh?) So I mostly make food for myself, since when I do, I get to pick and choose exactly what I'm going to make, what I'm going to put into it, and how to cook it.
I've become the proverbial free man in Paris.
Working as a pâtissier for so many years, thought, it's assumed that I want complicated, fancy desserts bulging with buttercream and towering with spun sugar and whimsical bits of foam, spheres, and powders strewn all over the place. While I appreciate the work and skill that goes into those kinds of things (Sam Mason has really impressed me with desserts that were creative and delicious), I really like simple food, especially after a rich or spicy meal.
I don't think dessert should be the proverbial "nail in the coffin" after dinner and I'm always curious when people say, "That restaurant wasn't very good. When we left, we were still hungry!"
I've been writing a bit about Korean food, but Japanese cuisine is a pretty good example of how I like to eat too.
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A Kimchi Recipe

If I had to name my favorite cuisine, it would be a toss-up between Vietnamese and Korean. Both offer charbroiled meats, pickled or marinated vegetables, and a lively and sometimes spicy array of seasonings.
What's not to like?
Most unfamiliar ethnic foods become instantly accessible if you take a trip to a local shop to stock up on a few specific ingredients. It wasn't until I learned about Moroccan spices that I realized that a tagine is basically a braise seasoned with specific spices mixed in the right combination, such as turmeric, paprika, saffron and ground ginger. Mexican food isn't all that difficult if one familiarizes themselves with chilies, cilantro, and corn tortillas.
Ok, and a nice hunk of pork shoulder as well.
Every time I go to a specialty market, whether it's Mexican, Japanese, or Chinese, I invariably lug back bottles of vinegars, odd herbs, specialty sugars and some sort of backside-burning chili pastes home with me. The other day when I was at Tang Frères, the gigantic Asian market in Paris, I heard a voice calling out for me to make Korean bbq this weekend.
It was a little strange: unlike the usual voices I hear in my head, this one had a Korean accent. And it was insistent.
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How To Make The Perfect Caramel

I didn't realize the ruckus that the revival of the Chocolate-Covered Caramel Matzoh Crunch would cause! But if it's any consolation to the new generation of fans—I, too, ate almost a whole batch by myself before making another so don't feel so bad if it had the same effect on you.
Oy!
I thought this was a good time to finally do Part II of the promised caramel post, which I started here.
Then I was sidetracked. And then I got into a little round-robin about caramel and butterscotch with Michael Ruhlman and Shuna.
Since it seemed like heaven and earth were in collusion, I felt a prodding to continue to delve deeper into caramel. So I thought this was a good time to talk about How To Make The Perfect Caramel.
When writing a recipe, for books or online, one of the biggest conundrums is "How explanatory should you be?"
Page space is limited in books and honestly, people would freak if you published a 6-page full-on manifesto for making brownies—so you need to strive for a happy medium.
Speaking of happy mediums...enter the internet!
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Chocolate-Covered Caramelized Matzoh Crunch

I wasn't sure how to start this post until this morning when I was at the market. As I was walking the aisles, avoiding the critical mass-of-madames and strollers, lost in my own little sugary world, I though; "Hey, that caramelized matzoh crunch I made yesterday is the perfect blog post!" So when I got home, I wrote up what I'd made, snapped a few pictures, and voilà!...here it is.
Seriously my friends, is there anything better than chocolate and toffee together?
Especially when the toffee has a brown sugar-flavored buttery snap and luscious chocolate is smeared over the top so it hardens and melds with the crackly caramelized matzoh underneath. When a marriage is this good, a picture can only do partial justice to the love that exists between the happy couple.
Shalom and gut yontiff to the happy duo!
The original recipe I presented a while back is great, but I thought I'd bring it up-to-date here, and present it once again since things get buried in archives and for reasons only the internet gods know, I can't retrieve them and give them a good shake. So I gave it a makeover (or 'relooking', as they say around here), tweaked it a bit, and enjoyed every bite along the way.
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That's Sénateur Lebovitz, To You

Last month, I received an invitation to visit the French Sénat. Like most of the government buildings here in Paris, this is one fabulous. Think wildly-ornate with lots of gilding and chandeliers and gardens that are plucked and shaved within an inch of their life. ('Nature' in Paris is meant to be looked at...ne touchez pas!) Plus there was a gorgeous dining room where les Sénateurs dine.
(Well, I should say, the real Sénateurs, since they didn't seem to have my name on that list.)
I don't know why the exhibition of foods and wines from the Lot-et-Garonne, was being held there, but I felt pretty special all the same. And who doesn't like feeling special?
There was a decent selection of foods to try. Lots of foie gras, some nice Gascon cheeses, and of course, pruneaux d'Agen. And lots of 'em. Since they were free, I ate as many as I could, especially the ones stuffed with chocolate-flavored prune filling. I was in prune heaven!
Except the next day—I was in prune hell.
Like Armagnac (take it from me); it's worth knowing your limits.
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Humpy Madeleines

This is the post I never thought I'd write.
I never wanted to tackle madeleines. I thought they were something that...darn it...you just needed to eat in France. Like hamburgers and bagels, some things just don't translate cross-culturally. If you wanted a madeleine, darn it, you came to France to have one. I mean, did you ever have a bagel in Banff? Do you even know where Banff is?
Anticipating the avalanche of questions madeleines inspire, I urge you to simply follow the recipe. The question of baking powder is up to you. If you use it, there's a greater likelihood they'll be a hump and the cakes will be fuller and plump. But some say baking powder shouldn't even be in the same room with madeleines, so I'll leave that decision up to you.
If you do use baking powder, use an aluminum-free brand, like Rumford, which leaves no tinny aftertaste. If you can't get it, use what you can. But try to find a brand labeled double-acting.
A few factors help these madeleines get as humpy as a Spice Girl (I said humpy...not plumpy)—
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Duck With Prunes

This past weekend I went to the Marché des Producteurs de Pays, a lively little outdoor event where people come from across France to sell their edible wares here in Paris. Naturally there were lots of mountain cheeses, specialty honeys, and regional wines. But I was on a mission to stock up on les pruneaux d'Agen since I knew les producteurs would be there from Agen who cultivated and dried their own prunes.
Snickering aside, pruneaux d'Agen are like a little squishy bites of sweet-spicy candy with a chocolate-like richness. When they're mi-cuit, or partially-dried, they're ridiculously plump and meaty, and the skin has just a tiny bit of resistance when you bite down, yielding to the delectable pulp underneath.
Since I have some friends in town who graced me with some high-brow reading material, I'm busy spending most of my time worrying if Britney's friends really are deserting her, if Angelina really is too close to her brother for Brad, and if Pamela Anderson's latest marriage is really going to last this time.
I don't know about you, but I have a lot of new things to worry about now.
So to relax after the shock of seeing Mary-Kate in a get-up that must feel awfully uncomfortable yanking up on her girl parts like that, I'd thought I'd make one of my favorite dishes: Duck with Prunes in Red Wine since I had a hankering to see something with a bit of meat on its bones.
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The Easiest Chocolate Ice Cream Recipe...Ever

This dessert is the result of a happy accident. I've been working with a liquor company on developing some recipes and after a couple furious days of recipe-testing, I had a zillion containers of various odds-and-ends lying around.
Some had banana, some chocolate. Most were spiked with various quantities of liquor and there were a number of orphans that I had no idea where they came from. And there was that bottle of dark rum that I needed to finish the last little sip of.
So what did I do?
I mixed them all up, tossed them in my ice cream machine and let 'er rip. After 30 minutes or so, I dug in my spoon in and tasted the most delicious batch of ice cream I'd churned up in a while.
But soon after, I got to work and discovered something—the world's easiest Chocolate Ice Cream...with no machine required!
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Chocolate-Cherry Fruitcake Recipe

'Tis the beginning of the season for holiday baking. Years ago I gave the much-maligned fruitcake a makeover, dressing it up with plumped-up sour cherries, an overload of chocolate, and a boozy bath of liquor added at the end.
You may remember my fruitcake disaster, so I'm not about to give anyone advice on preservation techniques. And you'll notice my cake dipped a bit in the middle since I was playing around with French flour, which is softer than it's American counterpart.*
But in looking at it afresh, I like the graceful little dip, which I find rather appealing. And since everything else in Paris is on strike today, I thought I'd let Photoshop take the day off as well.
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Espresso Granita Affogato Recipe

In terms of desserts, it doesn't get much easier than this.
Affogato means 'drowned' in Italian, and any frozen dessert can meet this fate by tippling a little liquor or coffee over it. Classically, espresso is poured over Vanilla Ice Cream, but you'd have to be pretty hard-core to pour espresso over Espresso Granita. If I did that, I'd be ricocheting off the walls around here.
And because I live on the roof, I'm one caffeine-fueled tumble away from meeting my maker. Not my coffee-maker, mind you.
And we wouldn't want that to happen, now. Would we?
I still have so much to accomplish...like tackling those chocolate marshmallows...
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Salmon Rillettes (recipe)

I know you're wondering why I'm not talking about chocolate since I just posted a slew of chocolate faq's. But I made this recipe for a birthday party last weekend and had to share it.
You can curse me now...but thank me later once you've tasted it.
...and yes, you're welcome. (In advance.)
A recent story on CNN talked about how America's Favorite French President, Nicolas Sarkozy, was not bourgeois, noting that he didn't grow up in a rarified family and as the (American) commentator exclaimed..."He didn't grow up eating pâté!"
I thought that was pretty funny since meaty pâtés and rillettes aren't upscale delicacies in France, but are considered everyday fare. And some of the best pâtés I've had were country-style spreads, or rillettes. Rillettes are usually made with long-cooked salted pork, rabbit, or goose, which is them shredded then mashed with fat to produce a rich, rustic paste for spreading on bread.
If you get a bad one, you'll think you're being served something intended for Rover.
But a good one, the best rillettes you find, are nearly buttery-smooth and rich with the taste of fork-tender meat.
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Chez Panisse Gingersnap Recipe

During my interview at Chez Panisse, as I sat across the table from Alice Waters in the main dining room at the restaurant, she asked me, "What do you eat at home?"
Since I'm not exactly convincing when lying, I told her.
"I eat popcorn, mostly." And continued, "I'm a restaurant cook. I don't have time to eat at home."
(Although I did conveniently omit the fact that it was microwave popcorn...)
In spite of that, or because of my chutzpah, I got hired and worked at Chez Panisse for a long time. What nailed it for me and endeared me to Alice, years later, wasn't her politics or her philosophy on cooking. It was when I told her, "I really like to drink coffee leftover from the morning, with milk in it, that's been sitting on the counter all day."
And she said, "Me too."
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A Chocolate Chip Cookie Recipe with Two Secrets

I've had a hankering to try Heidi's recipe for Chocolate Chip Cookies with her secret ingredient—mesquite flour—for the longest time. But although the mesquite flour I eventually found encompasses several continents, like I do, it's not available in the one I live in. So when I went to Texas, which I figured would be the epicenter of mesquite last June, I wandered the well-stocked aisles at Central Market in search of it. And lo and behold, there is was.
But looking at the label, I was surprised to find that it was imported...from Argentina. By a California company.
And there I was in a supermarket in Texas buying it.
Which I then brought back to France.
And for that, I'm certain to have my locavore card revoked.
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Banana Bread, or Banana Cake

Can someone could explain to me what the difference between Banana Bread and Banana Cake is?
I've been wracking my brain trying to come up with an explanation, any explanation...and I just can't think of one. If you presume that because Banana 'Bread' is made in a loaf pan, whereas a cake is usually baked in a round pan—by that same logic, Pound Cake would be Pound Bread, which doesn't sound quite as inviting.
So you're going to have to try harder.
Take muffins, for example. It's funny when people eat a muffin thinking they're being so 'healthy'. The word 'muffin' is just the Latin derivative of 'deceptive baked-good'. (Go ahead...look it up.) Swapping oil for butter, which often happens in muffins is fine, but you're not fooling anyone, folks.
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¡Carnitas!

Why do people call you thirty minutes before you've invited them for dinner?
It's something I don't understand. Usually if you're having folks for dinner, if you're anything like me, during those precious few minutes before everyone arrives you're racing around in your undies trying to get everything together so you can look relaxed when they arrive.
But people can't resist calling—"We're on our way!" "Can we bring anything?" "What time did you say to come?" "Can I bring two friends?"
There's a couple of rules in Paris about dinner parties:
The first is that you never, ever show up on time. Thirty minutes late is normale, and if you show up earlier you just may catch your host in their undies too (which may or may not be such a bad thing.) Another is that you need to get people's digicode in advance. Most buildings in Paris have a complex series of numbers and letters that you need to press on a pad by the entry to get into the building.
Sadly, people have a way of forgetting them and having to frantically call you from the sidewalk since they can't get in. And lastly, no one in France has food allergies so if you're invited for dinner, if you have an food issues, you'd better pipe up in advance or be prepared to eat Tête de veau...which, believe me, you don't want to eat.
So when they call, while they're blabbing on and on and on, you're hyperventilating and all those thoughts are running through you mind—"Darn it. Why didn't I trim my fingernails when I had time on Wednesday?" "Will they notice the pots and pans piled up in the bathtub?" (which is a whole 'nother blog entry...) "Do I need to make more chips since I think I ate about half of them after I made them?"
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Clotilde's Very Chocolate Cookies

I'm glad I'm not the only one around here who experiences what I call "Only in France" moments.
Recently I met up with Clotilde, who writes the popular Chocolate & Zucchini blog, for a drink one afternoon. I ordered a glass of wine and she, a mineral water. Although there was a large, unopened bottle of Badoit sparkling water standing prominently behind the bar, ripe for the taking, the serveuse told us they didn't have any bottled water.
Of course, neither one of us questioned that. But when she left to fetch our drinks, we both looked at each other, wrinkled up our perplexed faces, then shrugged it off. It's nice to know the locals find things as curious around here as I do.
Speaking of curious French things, if you're a regular reader of Chocolate & Zucchini, you're privy to her charming stories about her life in Paris accompanied by recipes. And you unless you've been hiding like a bottle of Badoit behind the bar, you've likely heard of her new book: Chocolate & Zucchini: Daily Adventures in a Parisian Kitchen.
Turning the pages and reading about her life in Montmarte is like spending the day with une vraie Parisienne, which seem to be an endless quest of finding the best markets and sourcing ingredients then taking them home and making them into fabulous dinners to share with friends and her lucky neighbors.
Before I met Clotilde, I was certain she was some burly truck-driver from Wisconsin pulling a fast one over on us all.
Continue reading "Clotilde's Very Chocolate Cookies" »
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Pistachio Gelato Recipe

Although each year it's getting harder and harder to remember that far back, I still recall when I was younger, during the summer in New England, we'd head to the dairy store for ice cream. Often I'd order pistachio; the vivid green color and the crunchy bits of pistachio were somewhat exotic to a timid little David growing up in pre-Martha Connecticut.
As I grew up, I learned the truth about pistachio ice cream (amongst other things). Mainly that it was usually made with artificial colors and flavors—not the real thing. So when I wrote Le Perfect Scoop, I thought long and hard about including a pistachio ice cream recipe. But I couldn't in good conscience include a recipe that costs 20 bucks to make, which is similar to what I call the 'Quarter-Cup of Squab Stock Syndrome'.
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Mediterranean Summer

In spite of my reputation for serving guests only the finest cuisine I can muster up, I invited a friend for lunch yesterday and thought I could foist my can of salade Niçoise off on her, and I would be efficient and multitask with trying a recipe from a book I just finished.
Her visit, and my can of...um...salad?....presented me the opportunity to try The Spreadable Tuna Mousse from Mediterranean Summer by David Shalleck.
But then I opened the tin, took a look inside, and..."bleech!"
Ever the optimist, I dumped my fancy feast in my mortar and pestle anyways.
But the bottom looked even worse than the top—which you'll just have to trust me on since I felt uneasy subjecting you to photos of both. It was a real Mediterranean bummer and certainly not Nice...or even niçoise-ian by any definition (unless Nice is full of stinky fish sludge, with chunks of greasy vegetables mixed in.)
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Marinated Feta Recipe

There's lots of feta-like cheese out there, but only cheese made in Greece is considered true feta nowadays and you can't call it feta anymore unless it was produced there. Like Champagne, which has to be made in Champagne or Brie de Meaux which has to be made is Meaux, it isn't feta unless it's made where it's supposed to be made—in Greece.
Although I'm not much of a font of knowledge about a lot of things, if it's food-related, I'll do in a pinch. If you want to make something that's impressive and incredibly simple to put together, maybe I can help you out there as well. This is a favorite around here and once you make it, you'll be rewarded in the days following with salty chunks of cheese infused in a sublime bath of fruity olive oil scented with summery herbs.
Start with a clean jar of any size and add chunks of feta. I like to keep them large, around 2-inches (6cm) max is good. You can also use rounds of semi-firm chèvre too, and I bought a big chunk of sheep's milk cheese today at my favorite Arab grocer that may or may not have been true feta, but was not-too-dry and I knew would be just perfect.
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Agave-Sweetened Chocolate Ice Cream Recipe

As a cookbook author, whenever you do a cooking demonstration, there's always 'The Question'. It's the one that's the most frequently asked when you're doing classes on a book tour.
For us who write about baking, normally it's, "Can that be frozen?"
Since my freezer is usually so crammed with stuff I can't imagine wedging in a multi-layer cake amongst all the rock-hard frozen madness that I call "my freezer"...except for now, because I came home from the country last weekend and found my freezer door had nudged itself open, or more likely I accidentally left it ajar in my haste to get outta town, and when I came home, my freezer looked like an Antarctic blizzard had happened in there and had to be completely cleaned out...so now there's plenty of room and I can start jamming it full all over again.
(The upside was I found and extricated a long-lost bottle of Polish vodka completely enveloped in a block of ice, which was a more than satisfactory reward for my efforts.)
Anyhow, when you write a book completely devoted to frozen desserts and ice cream you can smugly think to yourself, "Ha! I've nipped that one in the bud."
Of course, all ice cream can be frozen.
But silly me!
Little did I realize something insidious had taken ahold of my fellow Americans.
Yes, something worse than all those little bottles of hand sanitizer dangling from people's belts...
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Respect Your Elderberries (Elderberry Syrup Recipe)

During the summer, like everyone else in Paris, I get outta town for a long break. Even though this year was cold and dreary (although on a bright note, I finally got my Vélib' bike pass), Paris just peters-out; stores close and the markets are virtually empty. So I visit friends who live in the country in nearby in the Seine-et-Marne, a region a little over an hour from grey Paree.
You probably know about the famous cheese from there, Brie de Meaux, which is sold in big, gooey rounds at most of the markets in the area. There's a big one on Sunday mornings in Coulommiers, but I prefer the smaller but better market on Saturdays, in the town of Provins, which features actual producteurs, the folks who grow and sell their own fruits and légumes.
When I asked one of the local producteurs why they didn't bring their beautiful produce to Paris, he told me, "I don't like Parisians."
So I guess that explains this.
Ouch!...
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Devil's Food Cake Recipe

Whenever an American friend in Paris has a birthday, I invariably offer to make the cake for the big fête. Not that there's a lack of great bakeries in Paris, but Americans always seem to crave the same thing: a big, tall, all-American chocolate cake with an overabundance of swirls and swoops of chocolate frosting.
And who am I to deny them?
And what better to make than a dark, moist Devil's Food Cake with thick, shiny ganache swirled all over the top and smoothed around the sides?
This Devil's Food Cake is a happy compromise between those richer, flourless kind of chocolate cakes which would be too intense and inelegant stacked one on top of the other, and those jumbo, three-tiered extravaganzas which might shock a few folks around here with its all-American excess.
(Although the Rice Krispy Treats I made a couple of weeks ago were quite a hit. I tried to explain their cultural appeal to my Parisian friends, but decided just to them do the ambassador work themselves. I'm willing to let someone else carry the cross-cultural mantle around here for a while.)
This one has the heft and smoothness of a larger cake without scaring anyone anyway, and will appease everyone with it's on-the-spot dark chocolate flavor. It's delicate crumb is perfect when paired with a scoop of homemade ice cream or a pour of super-cold crème anglaise, but it's also sturdy enough to weather a trip across the Paris, since if you remember, I don't have very good luck carrying cakes on the métro amongst devil-may-care Parisians.
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But I Do Have Tomatoes

Most larger buildings in Paris have a concierge.
But before you think that I live somewhere that's all fancy and stuff, it's basically another name for the gardienne, normally a woman who takes care of things like delivering the mail and making sure repairs get handled. But even more importantly, she ensures that not even the slightest infraction of the rules or smallest detail of gossip gets by her, and at my friend's apartment in the 5th, theirs has a one-way mirror on her front door...so be careful who you drag home.
In French, there's an expression; 'faire la gardienne', which means to 'make like the gardienne'—'to gossip'.
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Planet of the (Buckwheat) Crepes

I can't tell you how many times I've been asked the age-old question: "How did you start cooking?"
My usual wise-guy answer?
"Well, I turned on the stove and put a pan on it."
In reality, I probably should acknowledge a debt of gratitude to Anna Maria Albergetti who got me on this whole obsessive measuring-thing, hawking those carefully delineated bottles for mixing up Good Seasons salad dressing. But I also think some of it began at our local mall, at The Magic Pan, one of those crêperies that popped up everywhere in the 70's. In the dining room, women in puffy-sleeved dresses stood over a open-flamed, circular crepe-cooker, presiding over a bevy of hot skillets that turned slowly over the flames, frying crêpes as fast as they could.
Wanting to be just like the girls at the mall, minus the puffy-sleeved dresses (which would come later in life), I bought one of those worthless numbers; a Taylor and Ng crêpe pan with a rounded bottom where you dipped the underside of the hot pan in a big bowl of batter, praying it didn't stick before you could lift it up and flip it over to continue.
And apologies to my family for all those crêpe-filling experiments, especially the chicken in cream sauce, which, in my impatience, I madly kept adding spoonfuls of flour to until it thickened—which I presumed should take all of about 20 seconds.
The result?
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Top Tapenade Tips

Way back when, after I arrived in France, I wanted to be all Provençal like we thought we were in Berkeley (except you'd need to force me into a beret only at gunpoint)...but I did go off on the lookout in Paris for a large, sturdy mortar and pestle. I didn't know what they were called in French at the time, so I went into cookware shops, made a fist around some imaginary cylindrical object in front of me, and shook it up and down maniacally and with great vigor to get across the idea of what I was looking for.
Suffice it to say, I got plenty of odd looks—I'm still not exactly sure why, but no one was able to figure out exactly what it was that I was after.
Eventually I got with the program and did find a few pretty little numbers, mortars and pestles usually made of glass or something equally fragile. But for all the pounding in Paris that I planned to do, I needed something that's going to take it like a man time-after-time and needed to be a bit more rough-and-tumble.
Acting on a tip, finally I arrived home one day with a manly-sized, rock-hard specimen from Chinatown (made of granite) and afterwards, I sought a hand from my olive guy who was glad to help out a friend in need and wrapped me up more olives de Nyons than you can shake a stick (or whatever) at, each week at the market.
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The Department of the Redundancy Department

When I worked at Chez Panisse, our most popular dessert was not the deep-dark Chocolate Cake. Nor was it the rich Crème Brulée with the crackly top sealing in the eggy custard inside. It was the humble Apple Crisp. And since I worked there for around thirteen years, and made maybe six to eight per day, I would say there may be an available spot in the Guinness book for me. (Although I'll let someone else do the math on that one.)
I guess there's something about a warm fruit crisp with a scoop of Vanilla Ice Cream melting alongside that most people are unable to resist. And who doesn't love pulling that heavy baking dish, fragrant with the aroma of sweet seasonal fruit, out of the oven, with the rich fruit juices bubbling and smell of the buttery, nutty topping all mingling and swirling while you pray you don't drop the sizzling-hot thing en route to the cooling rack?
(Not that I've done anything like that with a dining room full of customers waiting...)
But really, what's not to like?
Well...the dart-in-the-butt is that if you let it sit for any length of time, what you're left with is a baking dish of fruit topped with solidified mush. And that, my friends, is what's not to like.
So I came up with a plan—To put the crisp back in crisp topping.
Ever since I came up with this recipe, it's become the only one I use and is a summertime staple around chez David. Even though there's perhaps nothing easier to prepare in a moment's notice, I like to keep a batch in the freezer for an impromptu fresh-fruit crisp, so you can easily double the recipe and freeze Part deux for the next time.
So how did David get his crisp back?
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Chocolate-Espresso Mousse Cake

It's finally spring in the air in Paris.
And springtime is when a young man's fancy turns to...yup, you guessed it—chocolate.
What's that?
That isn't what you were thinking?
Shame on you.
Keep those sordid thoughts to yourself.
As the temperature starts climbing higher and higher (although I'm still not putting away my gloves and scarves quite yet...), I realize that it's time for me to use up all those bits and pieces of chocolate that I have lying around all over the place, tempting me all winter, but which will soon turn into molten blobs if I don't act fast. There's chunks leftover from tastings, samples sent to me from companies, and pieces I've acquired from my travels here and there.
So I thought I'd create a recipe for Chocolate Espresso Mousse Cake to use 'em all up. This is one of my favorite types of ways to serve chocolate in a cake: strong, bittersweet, and creamy-smooth with a soft, luscious melt-in-your-mouth texture that's so tender it practically evaporates seconds after you take a bite, but the intense chocolate flavors lingers on and on and on. Bliss.
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Salted Butter Caramel Ice Cream Recipe

When I was finalizing the recipes in The Perfect Scoop, I was conflicted about something sweet.
Even more so than I usually am.
Some might call it a character flaw; I call it normale.
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