192. Plum and Almond Crisp (p. 816)

OK, now I'm confused. At first blush, this Plum and Almond Crisp looks a lot like the Fruit Crumble I made when I was on vacation last month. After a closer examination of the two recipes, and a little Internet research, I thought I had figured out the difference between crisps and a crumbles (not to mention cobblers, slumps, grunts, bettys and pandowdys). Both are fruit desserts topped with a crispy, crumbly topping. According to one source I read, a crisp is the richer American cousin to the British crumble. But all of that went out the window, and I went right back to square one when I found out that this recipe is called "Plum and Almond Cobbler" on epicurious.com. What gives? I thought that a cobbler was a "fruit stew" topped by spoonfuls of biscuit dough. Ugh, this is so confusing. At least one of the commenters on the epicurious recipe challenged its status as a cobbler "Good, quick and easy to make. Wonderful topping, although I would challenge calling it a cobbler." Maybe that's why the Gourmet editors changed the name? Well, anyway, whatever it's called, this is one tasty dessert.

The Book says to use prune plums for this recipe if you can get them. I lucked out because Stop & Shop just happened to have some. Prune plums are smaller and sweeter than the usual reddish skinned, yellow-orange fleshed plums that I'm used to. The also have blue-purple skin and dark reddish purple flesh.

First, I made the filling. I pitted and quartered the plums (no need to skin them) and mixed them with some brown sugar, cornstarch, cinnamon, lemon juice and butter. I poured the plum mixture into a shallow oval baking dish.

Next, I made the topping. I mixed together some sugar, flour, salt and sliced almonds in the food processor and whizzed it until the almonds were ground. I added a beaten egg and whizzed some more until the topping came together. I spooned the topping over the plums and sprinkled some more sliced almonds over the top. (I made this dessert to bring over to my in-laws' house one Sunday afternoon. I also made a single-serving, gluten-free version for my wife using gluten-free baking mix in place of the flour.) Once it was all assembled, I baked the crisp for a little less than an hour.

I really enjoyed this dessert. It was better than the Fruit Crisp because the fruit was sweeter thanks to the brown sugar, jammier thanks to the luscious, juicy prune plums and the cornstarch to make it thicker, and spicier and more fragrant thanks to the cinnamon. This recipe is also great because it's quick, easy and very adaptable to whatever fruit you want to use. Several commenters on epicurious.com wrote about variations that they made using apples, peaches and raspberries.

So whatever it is -- a crisp, a cobbler, a crumble, or even a grunt -- it is delicious.

Date Cooked: August 24, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: A-

187. Chilled Sour Cherry Soup (p. 821)

When I made the Sour Cherry Crostata for the Fourth of July, I felt bad that my wife couldn't eat it because of the flour and butter. I decided to make it up to her by making this recipe* for Chilled Sour Cherry Soup so that she could enjoy all of the great cherry flavor without any of that pesky dairy and gluten.

The whole idea of this dish is a bit strange. First, it's a cold soup, which some people find unusual. But even more unusual is that it's a sweet dessert soup. That's something you don't come across every day. But you know what? It was actually pretty good.

First, I brought some water, sugar, lemon zest and cinnamon to a boil, stirring it until the sugar dissolved. Next I added some frozen sour cherries and boiled the mixture for a few minutes more. Meanwhile, I whisked some cornstarch with some cold water. I stirred the cornstarch mixture into the cherry mixture and boiled it for a final few minutes. I took the soup off the heat and allowed it to cool to room temperature before putting it in the refrigerator to chill.

I served the cold soup in small bowls after dinner. The Book says to garnish the soup with a drizzle of sour cream mixed with heavy cream. I skipped this step because I was making this dessert dairy-free.

At first taste, I wasn't sure what to make of this soup. It tastes a lot like cherry pie filling, and that's kind of strange. It's a bit thinner than ordinary pie filling, and the lemon zest and cinnamon make it a bit zippier. As I ate it, though (and as I ate the leftovers the next couple of nights), the soup started to grow on me. I don't think that I'd ever crave this dish, but it was a nice change, and I'm glad I made it.

Date Cooked: July 11, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: B

*This recipe isn't on epicurious.com.

172. Baked Figs with Grand Marnier and Whipped Cream (p. 804)

I don't usually see fresh figs in the stores, so, when I spotted some a couple of weeks ago at Mann Orchard, I picked up a pint and figured that I'd find something to do with them. I picked this recipe because I it looked quick and I had all of the other ingredients on hand.

First I pricked the bottoms of the figs with a fork, then I arranged them in an ovenproof skillet. I sprinkled the figs with a good amount of sugar and added a bit of water to the pan. I put them in the oven and baked them for about a half hour, spooning the juices over the figs a couple of times while they cooked.

I moved the pan to the stovetop, added some Grand Marnier and brought it to a boil. And now for the dramatic climax of this recipe. The Book says to "Remove from heat and carefully ignite pan juices." Well, wouldn't you know it, my flambe wouldn't flame. I tried to light it a couple of times, and nothing. Not sure what the problems was. I've flambeed before. Maybe I boiled the Grand Mariner too long and too much of the alcohol cooked off. A bit dejected, I transferred the figs to a serving bowl and boiled down the juice until it was quite reduced and nice and thick and syrupy. I spooned the syrup onto the figs and set them aside while I made the whipped cream, which is heavy cream, sugar and a bit of Grand Marnier.

This is an impressive and elegant dessert. Just look at that picture. The colors are stunning. And the flavor is just great, too. Figs are luxurious and rich. Baking them gives them a nice softness without being mushy. The syrup is sweet, rich and silky with a hint of orange flavor from the Grand Marnier. It was a bit boozy, but I think that had something to do with my flambe failure. The whipped cream was excellent. It was creamy and sweet with an unexpected orangy-boozy kick. This whipped cream would even be excellent with some plain berries.

Date Cooked: June 26, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A-

160. Honeydew (and Canteloupe) in Rosemary Syrup (p. 806)

When I think about rosemary, I usually think of chicken. And Simon and Garfunkle. But mostly chicken. Before I made this recipe, I would never have thought of pairing melon with rosemary and peppercorns.

This is probably one of the simplest of The Book's fruit dessert recipes. First, I made the rosemary syrup. I mixed some white wine, water, sugar, orange zest, fresh rosemary leaves and black peppercorns in a small saucepan. I brought it to a boil and cooked it for a few minutes. I strained it into a bowl (discarding the solids) and put it in the refrigerator to chill.

Meanwhile, using a melon baller, I cut melon balls from a honeydew and a cantaloupe. It's hard to make perfect-looking melon balls without wasting a lot of melon. So, a lot of the melon balls were somewhat misshapen. Oh, well.

When the syrup was chilled, I stirred some freshly-squeezed orange juice into it and combined the syrup with the melon.

I served the melon balls in small bowls garnished with little sprigs of rosemary. This dessert was a real surprise. I didn't quite know what to expect from mixing sweet melon with seasonings usually associated with savory foods (rosemary and black pepper). The fragrance of the rosemary was wonderful. The flavor was subtle and pleasant. The hint of rosemary and the barely noticeable bite of pepper nicely highlighted the melon. The syrup was light and not too sweet.

A nice, simple dessert for a sophisticated but healthy meal.

Date Cooked: May 30, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: A-

152. Prosecco and Summer Fruit Terrine (p. 811)

When I first flipped through The Book, I spotted this recipe and decided that it would be a perfect Mother's Day dessert, so I filed it away in my memory bank. Well, this Mother's Day, we had a party for my son's dedication ceremony, and this fruit terrine fit in just right with the lunch buffet, and it was a nice alternative to the cake that we got from the bakery down the street.

First, I arranged four cups of mixed fruit in a 1 1/2 quart glass loaf pan. The Book suggests berries, peaches and grapes. I planned on using blueberries, peaches and white seedless grapes. It used to be that you could only get fresh "summer fruit" in, well ... summer. But, these days, you can get pretty much anything at pretty much any time. For the past few weeks, I've seen fresh peaches at my usual grocery store. But, of course, when I did my shopping for this recipe ... you guessed it, no peaches. (And, wouldn't you know it, the next week, they had hundreds of fresh peaches! Go figure.) So, with no fresh peaches, I had to improvise. I scanned the produce section to try to find a combination of fresh fruit that would go well together with each other and the prosecco. I wasn't really happy with any of the options, so I decided to go with canned peaches. I also decided to use some canned pears, too.

Next, I sprinkled some unflavored gelatin over some prosecco and let it stand for a little while in a small bowl. Then I boiled some more of the prosecco with some sugar and mixed it until the sugar is dissolved. I took it off the heat and added the gelatin mixture and stirred until dissolved. I added yet some more prosecco and some lemon juice and transferred the whole thing to a metal bowl set over a larger bowl full of ice. I allowed the mixture to cool to room temperature, stirring every now and then. This sounds like a lot of steps, but it was really easy and only took a few minutes.

I carefully poured the prosecco/gelatin/sugar mixture over the fruit, covered it with plastic wrap, and put it in the refrigerator overnight to set (The Book says that it needs at least six hours to set). The next day, just before serving, I unmolded the terrine by dipping the glass loaf pan in a larger pan of hot water to loosen it. It took a few tries, but eventually, the terrine slid out of the pan and onto the serving plate.

This dessert makes a stunning presentation. It is a colorful, mosiac of jewel-like fruit. Unfortunately, I wasn't as impressed with the serving and eating. First, there was so much fruit in the terrine and not enough of the prosecco gelatin that it didn't really keep its structural integrity when sliced. It wasn't a matter of the gelating not setting, it's just that there wasn't enough of it to hold the slices together. But worse, the flavor was only ho-hum. I had such great expectations for this dessert, and it didn't really live up.

Date Cooked: May 9, 2009
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: B+

74. Baked Sliced Apples (p. 802)

I wanted to make this recipe* when Macintosh apples were fresh and in season.

This was a quick and easy fall dessert. First I peeled and cored four apples and sliced them into 1/4 inch horizontal slices, being careful to keep the slices together. Next I brushed the stacked slices with lemon juice (presumably to keep them from discoloring) and placed them in a baking dish. Then I put some brown sugar, butter and rum into the baking dish and each of the apple cavities. I baked the apples for a time, and then inserted cinnamon sticks into the cavities and cooked the apples for a bit longer, basting them with the pan juices.

I served the apples with some fresh sweetened whipped cream. I didn't have any Calvados, so I passed on the optional Calvados-flavored whipped cream, although I'm sure that it would be great. Since this was a quick and easy dessert to end a casual dinner at home, I also skipped the optional garnish of organic apple or mint leaves.

The Book's blurb says that slicing the apples prior to cooking them helps them maintain their textural integrity better than a whole apple, which would become soft as it bakes. Maybe I cooked this a bit too long, because some of the slices were a bit apple-sauce-like. But, at any rate, I really liked this dessert. The apples were sweet and tender. The butter, sugar and rum combined to make a sweet and caramel-y syrup. The cinnamon stick gave the apples a nice flavor and aroma.

Date Cooked: November 2, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Easy
Rating: B

* The recipe on epicurious is the same as the one in The Book, except that, instead of "Baked Sliced Apples" it's called "Sliced Baked Apples." Go figure.

61. Apple Crisp (p. 812)

I made this recipe* for dessert when Travis and Jodi came over for dinner a few weeks ago. Since I knew that time would be short, and that I wanted to devote my full attention to my Roasted Chicken with Pan Gravy, I looked for something that was relatively easy to make. And with the leaves changing color all around me, this quintessential fall dessert just about leapt off the pages of The Book.

This dessert has everything I could want in an apple crisp. The sweet, crunchy, crispy topping was delicious, and the apple filling, if a bit softer and more applesauce-like than I'd like it to be, was very good. The addition of orange zest gave it a really unexpected flavor kick.

I really liked this dessert, but it looks like I'm the odd man out among the Gourmet cook-through-bloggers. Neither Teena nor Kevin gave this recipe high marks. Kevin thought that the filling was too sweet and that the texture was all wrong. Both of them were less than impressed with the topping. Kevin was displeased with its "cookiness," and Teena thought that it was "grainy." I must admit that I agree with Teena that the pecans in the topping cooked a lot faster than the rest of the dish, to the point of almost being burned (I actually had to cover the whole dish with aluminum foil a little more than halfway through the cooking time to prevent the nuts from getting totally incinerated). Other than that, though, I thought it was a winner, especially when served warm and topped with a dallop of vanilla ice cream. I didn't see this dish on Melissa's blog. Maybe she'll make it soon and if she likes it, we'll be all tied up, two to two. Come on, Melissa, don't leave me hanging.

One thing to note if you do make this recipe, you'll have enough apple crisp to feed an army. The dish pictured above is one of those great big lasagna pans, and you can see how full it is. Hope you're hungry.

Date Cooked: October 4, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating A-

*This recipe does not appear to be on epicurious.com.

20. Blueberry and Nectarine Buckle (p. 816)

I like nectarines and peaches, really I do. It's just that they have to be perfectly ripe, or else I'm not interested. Not ripe enough, they're hard and mealy. Too ripe, they're smooshy and sickly sweet. But when they're just so - crisp, sweet and juicy, it's hard to find anything better. Now is the time of year when the stars align for perfect peaches and nectarines, so I was happy to find this recipe to give me a shot of nectarine nirvana.

The first step is to make the streusel topping. Incidentaly, according to The Book, it's the streusel that makes a buckle different from a slump, grunt or pandowdy. Apparently, the cake "buckles" under the weight of the streusel. Silly me, I thought it had something to do with having to loosen your belt after that irresistible second helping of this tasty treat. I guess it would be called an "unbuckle" in that case. Anyway, back to the streusel. It's cold butter, broken up into bits, a little flour, some sugar, and a bit of cinnamon and nutmeg. You knead it up with your fingers until its good and mixed. This step was pretty fun. The topping had the texture of wet sand, so I felt a little like a kid playing at the beach.

The cake batter is next, and it's pretty straightforward. I had the foresight to put the butter out to soften before I went out to mow the lawn. It was so hot out when I made this on Saturday, that by the time I came back in, the butter was so soft that creaming the butter and sugar was super-easy. After all of the wet and dry ingredients are combined, then the nectarines and a prodigious amount of blueberries get folded in. I had a bit of trouble cutting the nectarines. I expected to be able to cut them in half like an avocado (cut around the pit, twist, and voila, two halves). No such luck. I mangled them a bit, but the nectarine chunks that ended up in the cake tasted just as good as perfect wedges would have. Into a buttered baking dish (I used the wrapper from the softened butter to grease the pan), sprinkle on the streusel (see the "before" photo above), and then whack it into the oven.

This was kind of like a dessert version of the Blueberry Almond Coffee Cake I made a couple of weeks ago. It was sweet and buttery and bursting with sweet, jammy fruit. The streusel topping gave the cake a nice texture. The cinnamon and nutmeg made the kitchen smell great. The recipe doesn't say anything about inverting the cake to take it out of the baking dish, so I left it right where it was, considering what happened to the aforementioned coffee-quake, I mean coffee cake.

The Book says to serve it warm with whipped cream. Yes, please! We stashed the leftovers in the fridge and enjoyed it all week. Yesterday, my wife sent me an email at work to apologize for eating the last piece. I told her it was OK, since you can't give a cook a better compliment than to tell him that you just couldn't resist eating something he made.

Date Cooked: July 5, 2008
Degree of Difficulty: Medium
Rating: A