Custard

This is an Italian classic, with a twist. Traditionally made with Marsala, I like to vary it by using Viognier, or even prosecco, as we do here. The wine adds a dimension to the custard and marries well with the sweet berries. If you don’t have a kitchen torch, skip the step where you sprinkle on the sugar and simply serve the custard spooned over the berries. If you use the broiler instead of a torch, the custard will get too soft.

My Aunt June used to make this boiled vanilla custard almost constantly from Thanksgiving to Christmas so as to keep a steady supply on hand. Ever the ready hostess, June kept the custard stored not in the refrigerator, as you might expect, but in a Tupperware container in the trunk of her car. This ensured that she was never without party supplies, whether she was entertaining at home or calling on friends. We were always glad to see Aunt June coming at that time of year, not least because we knew her famous custard was sure to follow.

I learned this recipe when I spent the summer in the kitchen of the Hotel Sofitel in Paris, some twenty-five years ago. Roland Durand, the chef, graciously accepted me as a stagiare, or apprentice, and I was able to work in all sections of the kitchen, including the butcher shop and bake shop. I love this cake for its texture, which is moist and rich-looking but very light, and for its versatility. It goes with so many different things, but it’s also delicious all by itself. I like to dress it up with a Pistachio Crème Anglaise and some raspberries or tart cherries.

Herbsaint, the anise-flavored liqueur that we named the restaurant after, was made in New Orleans for many years. It served as an absinthe substitute, offering a similar licorice taste without the hallucinations. While researching old recipes using absinthe or Pernod, I noticed the liqueurs would frequently be combined with brandy, and this appealed to me, since it tempers the strong anise flavor. Just like a sip of Sazerac, anise is not for everyone. But it’s a sophisticated alternative to the classic vanilla version. If you don’t like anise, simply substitute another tablespoon of brandy or bourbon.

This is a scrumptious home-style Greek dessert that you won’t find in many restaurants. Galaktaboureko, which might be easier to prepare than pronounce, is made by baking semolina custard in a crispy phyllo package and then drizzling it with sweet syrup. The syrup is traditionally made with sugar and water, but I couldn’t resist the urge to infuse it with a little lemon and cinnamon.

We do love our coffee in New Orleans, and we love it strong! Coffee ice cream may be my very favorite dessert, but this runs a close second. It is rich and not too sweet, easy to make, and, because the pôts de crème cook at such a low heat in a water bath, you can make them in pretty, decorative coffee cups and serve them on a saucer.

This make-ahead dessert is a great choice for dinner parties—the individual servings take very little time to plate and garnish, so you can enjoy yourself while still wowing your dinner guests with an elegant, delicious finale. The recipe’s first step calls for infusing its liquid ingredients with chopped pistachios; though the nuts themselves are later strained and removed, their fresh, delicate sweetness flavors every creamy spoonful of the rich custard. Prepared pistachio paste (available online; see Sources) adds more nuttiness and body.

When my grandmother became ill with cancer, I thought my heart would break. I never knew anything could hurt so badly—the pain actually seemed to make it impossible to breathe. I was living in New York, working in Connecticut, and would fly home to see her as often as possible, at least every other weekend. When I was home I would make her this soft, rich custard that she loved. The cause of death on Meme’s death certificate is actually starvation, not cancer. The cancer prevented her from swallowing, and the only solution was to feed her through a tube, something no one wanted, or needed, to face. It was a cruel irony for a woman who made so many meals with so much joy and love.

Sabayon is the French version of Italian zabaglione, an airy egg-and-wine custard. It requires a certain amount of energy—and strength—to whip up a batch. If you’ve ever heard a frenzy of whisking coming from the kitchen at an Italian restaurant, you’ve heard why many Italian cooks (especially the sturdy grandmas) have such well-developed arms. But one lick of the boozy, frothy dessert is enough to make you forget those few furious minutes of whipping. If you don’t think you’re up to the task, you can use an electric handheld mixer. But I always feel that if I’ve worked hard to make something, I’ve earned the right to eat it. You can serve the sabayon hot from the stove, although here, it is cooled and whipped cream is added so it can be held before serving.

When I worked as a pastry chef, I became known as “the crème brûlée bully” because I decided one night that I had had enough of crème brûlée and stopped serving it altogether. The reason? It was all that was ever ordered, and everything else on my menu went ignored. I realize now that I should have been flattered that guests liked my crème brûlée so much, and I apologize to anyone who left the restaurant feeling denied their favorite dessert. As reparation, I offer this recipe for lemon-ginger crème brûlée, the most popular flavor of the many that I’ve made, and hope I’m forgiven.

This is the French classic that everyone knows and loves. I’ve resisted doing anything to change it, except be more generous with the chocolate than the pastry chef in the average Parisian bistro. Excusez-moi, but I like chocolate so much that I just couldn’t help myself. This recipe is a good place to use top-notch chocolate, French or otherwise. You won’t regret it when your spoon cuts through the glossy surface and dives into the smooth custard below. For best results, use a high-percentage dark chocolate, one that’s 60 to 70 percent cacao.

When I was in college, I always loved coming home at the holidays—in part because of my mother’s pumpkin pie. I still love pumpkin, as does my husband, so this recipe is for him. I was looking for something that could deliver that awesome pumpkin taste without a fat-laden crust, and the homey familiarity of custard provided a perfect vehicle.

This sweet fig and aniseed pudding is like a clafoutis. The custard bakes to a flan-like consistency and is heavenly served still slightly warm from the oven.

Our china cabinet rattles when you walk through the dining room. With each step the lids to my collection of little pot de crème pots remind me that it has been a while since they were used.

A can of dulce de leche is the key to this smooth, rich, caramel-flavored custard that you can make with only 10 minutes of prep time. It would take hours to make the milk caramel you can purchase ready-made in many supermarkets. The cans are usually shelved with other Latin American foods and called Dulce de Leche, Manjar, Fanguito, Arequíte, or Cajeta.

This custard shows off the way that you can combine different types of carrageenans to create a custardlike dessert with a soft, tender texture that holds its shape beautifully. It gives you the gentle, set texture of a baked egg custard but it can be cooked on top of the stove. Beyond that, if you love peanut butter, you are going to be in hog heaven. It’s that good.

A friend described the flavors of a pudding she tasted in an Iranian restaurant, and I applied them to the classic crème caramel. It is magnificent.

I love apples. I have this recurring dream where I leave the stress of the restaurant world behind and start a cider house, making exquisite hard cider. I start at sunrise and I finish in the mid-afternoon and retire to the farmhouse to cook a dinner for Mary and the girls. Apple brown betty is like a crisp made with bread crumbs. It's a wonderful dessert that is so simple and so rewarding in results. This is a good one for roping the kids into helping. Those apples aren’t going to peel themselves. Zabaglione is also known in France as sabayon. It is a custard-based dessert, cooked with a dessert wine. I stabilize mine with whipped cream and serve it cold, whereas in Italy and France you often see them served warm. Kind of like an eggnog in heaven.

The monounsaturated fats in this dessert's hazelnuts are super satiating. Trust us: You'll want seconds—but maybe not until tomorrow.

Berries and orange juice are top sources for vitamin C, which may help you blast up to 30 percent more fat during exercise. Suh-weet!