Champagne

A day of lazy dipping in Gulf Coast waters calls for a cold bowl of cooked shrimp dipped in a sweetsavory sauce. That’s what my mom thought, anyway, and she always had cold shrimp on hand when we stayed at the beach. I love it, too, and it’s a great do-ahead that lets you set out something for your hungry guests as soon as you step inside after a day of sand and sun. I cook the shrimp and make the dipping sauces the day before and stick ’em all in the fridge. When I pull them out, everyone thinks I’m an organized genius. (Naturally, I politely demur.) Snacking on shrimp, nobody notices if I disappear into the kitchen for a little main-course prep work. I usually figure about one-third pound per person. The shrimp usually runs out before anyone’s hunger does, but that works for me. I want my friends to have room for dinner and dessert. If I don’t feel much like cooking, I allow about one-half pound of shrimp per person for a hands-on main course. Of course, I always offer dessert, often as simple as cookies (like Vanilla Sand Dollars, page 83) and ice cream.

This just may be the perfect way to start a celebration. Be sure to use good Champagne, and chill both the Champagne and the grapefruit juice before mixing them.

Festive and fruity, this is a natural starter at brunch. For best results and maximum freshness, use freshly squeezed cranberry juice and make the drinks just before you plan to serve them.

This recipe was inspired by a visit to the Middle East. The day was hot and dry, and someone gave me lemonade with basil and mint. I have been putting herbs in tea and lemonade ever since. Although you can experiment using all sorts of different fresh herbs, this combination makes for a relaxing tonic, as both lemon balm and lemon verbena are known for their calming properties. On a warm night, substitute this lemonade for a glass of white wine, or turn it into a cocktail by adding white wine or champagne.

Rhubarb (shown opposite), native to Asia, was only introduced to the United States in the 1800s. It now grows throughout the northern part of the country. Every spring rhubarb arrives pretty and pink at the farmers’ market, but it’s largely passed over because most of us don’t know what to do with it except to make pie. This spritzer shows off rhubarb’s bright color and tangy taste. Mixed with champagne, it makes a unique and delicate cocktail.

I’ll bet Dom Pérignon, the monk who is often given credit for inventing Champagne, would be turning over in his grave if he knew I had mixed his fizzy elixir with pineapple. But I’m sure I’d have his blessing if he tasted how good this combination is.

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.

There’s nothing I like better than very, very cold Champagne. So cold that I usually drop a small ice cube into my glass to make sure it’s as chilled as possible. I always feared that it was offensive and crass to ice down Champagne until I went to a tasting of Krug Champagne, considered by many to be the finest of them all. I didn’t dare drop an ice cube into any of the glasses that were presented to me, but I did confide that I often did so to one of their experts, who surprised me by saying that it’s perfectly acceptable to put a bit of ice in Champagne for the very reason I do it. For this sorbet, you don’t need to use the finest French Champagne. In fact, I’ve made it successfully with Italian prosecco and Spanish cava—without offending anyone.

There were quite a few things I missed about the Bay Area when I packed up my bags and moved to France. Burritos, bean-to-bar chocolates, and “centered” people were some of them. Okay, I didn’t miss the centered people. But I was surprised at how much I missed Meyer lemons, which are sweeter and more perfumed than regular Eureka lemons. Their vibrant, deep yellow color makes other lemons pale in comparison. If you’re lucky enough to know someone with a Meyer lemon tree, you’re likely to be handed a large sack of them when the fruits are in season. Some greengrocers and specialty markets now carry them, too. Otherwise, you can use regular Eureka lemons in this recipe, but increase the sugar to 1 cup (200 g).

Not all gelatin desserts are squidgy, old-fashioned jelled rings studded with oversweetened canned fruits. Take this thoroughly modern dessert, for example. You’ll see why it won top honors from a national food magazine that called it one of the “Top Ten Desserts of All Time.”

I love champagne and it’s a natural in desserts. This sorbet captures the airiness and effervescence of the wine, and adding a hint of lemon makes it super-refreshing. Champagnes differ in their sugar contents, which will affect whether or not the sorbet will freeze, so be sure to use Veuve Clicquot yellow label for this recipe.

Smashing (called muddling in the bartending biz) the raspberries with the vodka, sugar, and lime wedges brings out the berry flavor.

Eben Freeman, bartender of Tailor restaurant in New York City, created this Champagne cocktail. As you add the sparkling wine, note how the drink changes color from green to pink. Freeman uses frozen cherries to make a cherry purée, but you can also use all-fruit spread.

This holiday twist on the traditional brunch cocktail sparkles ruby red with pomegranate juice, its tart intensity offset by a hint of sweetness from fresh orange juice and Cointreau.

Camper English, a San Francisco–based writer, developed this adaptation of a classic drink recipe to showcase the use of absinthe, but Ernest Hemingway gets credit for the recipe. His advice, circa 1935: "Pour one jigger absinthe into a Champagne glass. Add iced Champagne until it attains the proper opalescent milkiness. Drink three to five of these slowly." We recommend drinking fewer than five. You may also try pouring the absinthe on top instead—some brands of absinthe will float for a time on the Champagne, and this makes for a nifty visual effect.

Bartender Naren Young developed these cocktails at Bobo Restaurant in New York to showcase the flavors of cachaca, a Brazilian spirit made from distilled sugarcane juice.

Rumor has it that this cocktail was named in honor of the famous French 75 light field gun of World War I. Quick and potent, the drink was popularized by Harry's New York Bar, in Paris.