Candy

The gentle heat supplied by the slow cooker is an effortless way to temper chocolate without having to use a double boiler, standing over the pot to keep careful watch. With the small amount of chocolate required, the recipe works better in a 3-quart slow cooker rather than a 5-quart, for better control over the melting process. The recipe can also be doubled for double the chocolate indulgence.

These bars are so good that you will have to hide them from your friends if you want them to last more than 5 minutes. They are super easy to make. In fact, the hardest part about these melt-in-your-mouth bars is waiting for them to cool enough to eat.

When I was at culinary school in France, my instructor advised adding a bit of salt when candying citrus peel. When I asked why, he said that for some reason it made the peel soften, but he couldn’t explain why. So although it may be just a culinary superstition, I’ve added salt ever since. If you aren’t superstitious, simply toss the salt over your shoulder and candy the lemons without it. Although it’s not required equipment, a candy thermometer will show you when the lemon slices are done. Fit the saucepan with the thermometer before starting. When the peel is candied, it should read 225°F (107°C).

This is a terrific recipe for preserving fresh cherries during their relatively short season. As they cook, their ruby red juices gush out and continue to deepen in color until they thicken to a flavorful syrup. Before folding them into ice cream, you’ll want to make sure they’re dry, since the liquid will muddy the ice cream. Drain the cherries in a strainer for at least 1 hour first, until they are sticky and dry (save the syrup for drizzling over ice cream). Then coarsely chop the cherries, or fold them into the ice cream whole as you remove it from the machine. Candied cherries are excellent on top of Lemon Sherbet (page 116) or Olive Oil Ice Cream (page 83), and on any homemade ice cream sundae you make as well.

These mint disks are adapted from a recipe passed on to me by Elizabeth Falkner, the owner of San Francisco’s deservedly popular Citizen Cake bakery. The mixture is simple to put together, and you can adjust the mint flavor to your liking. Taste a bit and add more if you wish, as mint extracts and oils vary. I make my Peppermint Patties very minty, which is especially important when they’re crumbled into deep, dark chocolate ice cream, a combination I call “The Girl Scout Cookie Effect.”

You don’t need me to tell you that Peanut Butter Patties are the best when embedded in any chocolate-flavored ice cream. Use a commercial brand of peanut butter when making these since natural-style peanut butter will make them too runny. If you want tinier pieces in your ice cream, simply shape the mixture into smaller patties. And although they’re rich, if you want more to add to your ice cream, it’s easy to double the recipe.

It’s often said that when selling your home, you should bake something aromatic and spicy to entrance potential buyers with the homey scent wafting from the kitchen. These pecans are simple enough to make in the mad scramble before opening your house to strangers, and there’s no better way to fill your home with a heady mix of spices. I recommend folding them into Bourbon Ice Cream (see Variation, page 24), which you can happily eat to celebrate the closing of the deal.

When I put this recipe on my web site, I wasn’t prepared for the onslaught of comments and accolades. It seems I’m not the only one out there who craves toffee—especially this buttery-crisp candy enrobed in dark chocolate and showered with lots of toasted almonds. It’s very good folded into ice cream, and although the recipe makes a bit more than you’ll need, I don’t think you’ll have any problem finding something to do with the rest.

After dinner at the marvelous L’Os à Moelle in Paris, I finished up with a dessert of housemade ice cream topped with the most perfect, crispy caramelized almonds I’d ever imagined. After leaving, I passed the kitchen window, where chef Thierry Faucher was leaning outside taking a break. I waved, and he waved back. So I got up the nerve to ask him how he made those fabulous almonds. He hefted a pitcher of liquid, and told me they were simply coated with equal parts water and sugar. The next morning, I immediately started tinkering around and came up with just the right proportions for making these incredibly addictive crispy flakes of almonds.

One of my great pleasures in life is stopping at one of the “shave ice” stands (as the locals call them, inexplicably dropping the “d”) in Hawaii. I watch as they tuck sweet red beans in the bottom of a paper cone and then pile on the shaved ice. I always choose lilikoi, or passion fruit syrup, to be drizzled over the ice. It has remarkable complexity and tastes as if every possible tropical flavor has been packed together into one intensely flavored fruit. Then a shot of sweet milk is poured over it all. I slurp the whole thing down, then I’m ready to tackle the surf again. Or, more likely, just take a snooze under the shade of a palm tree. The inspiration likely came from Japan, where red beans are spooned over ice cream or puréed for beautifully intricate pastries called wagashi. You can easily make them at home from adzuki beans, available in well-stocked supermarkets and natural food stores. Their sweet-starchy flavor is justifiably popular and is especially good paired with Asian-inspired ice creams, like Green Tea Ice Cream (page 40) and Toasted Coconut Ice Cream (page 96). I find chewing on these sticky little beans positively addictive.

If you’re as wild about sour cherries as I am, you’ll be as happy as I was to discover that big jars of them are available in Eastern European markets and specialty grocers (see Resources, page 237). They come packed in light syrup and are a fraction of the cost of their pricey Italian counterparts, and they’re simple to candy yourself. Once cooked and cooled, if you wish to mix the cherries into ice cream, drain them of their syrup completely (until they feel dry and sticky), and then fold them into your favorite flavor. I recommend White Chocolate Ice Cream (page 33), or try the Toasted Almond and Candied Cherry Ice Cream (page 60). Or simply use one, or more, to top off an ice cream sundae. (Save any leftover syrup to mix with sparkling water to make homemade sour cherry soda.) This recipe calls for 3 cups of cherries, which includes their syrup.

Not only does this chewy candied peel make a tasty tangle atop a scoop of citrus-flavored sorbet or ice cream, but it’s also terrific drained, finely chopped, and folded into just-churned Super Lemon Ice Cream (page 85), Fresh Ginger Ice Cream (page 43), or Cheesecake Ice Cream (page 62). If you don’t have a candy thermometer, simply cook the peel until most of the liquid has boiled away and the fine threads of peel are shiny and translucent.

There’s no reason to ever buy candied orange peel since it’s so much better when you make it at home. I can’t bear throwing away anything remotely edible, so when I have rinds left over from juicing oranges or tangerines for sorbet, I always make a batch of candied peels and serve them alongside. Finely chopped bits of candied orange peel enliven a batch of cookies like Gingersnaps (page 199) and add an unexpected, but delicious, twist when tossed into a fruit dessert such as Apple-Blackberry Crisp (page 101). This candied orange peel is thicker and more substantial than Soft-Candied Citrus Peel (page 253). In addition to being used an an ingredient or garnish, it can be enjoyed on its own as a confection.

If I have a jar of candied ginger within arm’s reach, there’s an excellent chance that you’ll find my hand reaching into it. Yes, you can buy candied ginger, but it’s not at all difficult to make your own. From one good-size knob of fresh ginger, you can make enough so that even if you are caught with your hand in the ginger jar as much as I am, you’ll have some left to toss with fruit dessert, such as the Nectarine-Berry Cobbler with Fluffy Biscuits (page 104) or to add to a batch of Nonfat Gingersnaps (page 200). Take time to cut the ginger across the grain into thin slices no thicker than a coin because you want to make sure that any fibers in the ginger are minimized. If you can find young ginger in the spring, you should definitely use it.

Thin strips of soft-candied citrus peel enliven the flavor of desserts and look beautiful as garnishes for cakes, fruit compotes, sherbets, custards, and, especially, Champagne Gelée (page 114). Although it’s convenient to have a jar on hand to use on a whim, they’re quick and easy to make.

During the brief cherry season when fresh cherries are abundant (and inexpensive), I make as many batches of candied cherries as I can, as they keep beautifully in their syrup for months in the refrigerator. I’ll add a handful of candied cherries to a fruit crisp before baking, or drain them well and fold them into a batch of just-churned ice cream. They are particularly good spooned over lemon desserts, such as Tangy Lemon Frozen Yogurt (page 174) and Lemon Semifreddo (page 65), and are delicious used in place of the chocolate-covered peanuts in White Chocolate-Ginger Ice Cream (page 149). Or, if no one’s looking, I just pluck one from the jar and pop it into my mouth.

If there’s an easier candy out there, I haven’t found it. When I worked as a pastry chef, I think I made a batch of these every day. And since they’re so easy, why not? (Actually, I pretty much had to since I discovered all the other cooks in the kitchen couldn’t resist dipping into the container when I wasn’t looking.) Great nibbled on their own, these nuts are also good used in place of the toasted nuts in Chocolate Chip Cookies (page 188) and Robert’s Absolute Best Brownies (page 196), or in place of the almonds in Pistachio, Almond, and Cherry Bark (page 223). They can be chopped and folded into just-churned ice cream, or sprinkled on top of scoops of ice cream that are sauced with a ladleful of warm Rich Caramel Sauce (page 241).

With all the recent interest in Spanish cuisine, it’s no surprise that membrillo—Spanish quince paste—has become a global hit. Anyone who has tasted it paired with Manchego cheese and a glass of sherry understands why it’s become so popular the world over. But that popularity doesn’t come easy: it takes at least 30 minutes of almost-constant stirring to make quince paste. I always wear an oven mitt while stirring with a wooden spatula because the hot mixture occasionally pops and sputters as it thickens.

It was a happy day when an enterprising midwesterner decided that the surplus of sour cherries could be dried instead of left neglected on the trees. And thus, one of my favorite baking ingredients was born. But this recipe is eminently adaptable and you can use any kind of dried fruit or toasted nuts that suits you. Diced apricot pieces and cranberries, walnuts and toasted pecans, and roasted cocoa nibs have all found their way into various batches of this bark. I even got really crazy once and crumbled candied bacon into a batch. That one met with a few raised eyebrows, but was gobbled up by all.

I thought I knew all about chocolate truffles until I enrolled in an advanced course in chocolate making at a school for professionals next to the Valrhona factory in France’s Rhône Valley. I spent three very intense days there learning how to combine three simple ingredients—chocolate, cream, and butter—into silky smooth ganache. In the class were eight of the top chocolatiers in the world, plus a ninth person, who quickly realized that he had a lot more to learn about chocolate than he thought he did. Ganache seems simple, but chef Philippe Givre taught us how to whip these three ingredients into a velvety paste that needed several days of rest before it was ready to be tasted. (It’s worth the wait!) It would take a whole book to explain his technique and a professionally equipped kitchen attached to a chocolate factory to try it out, so for this recipe, I’ve shortened the process a bit. Of course, to make these truffles, it’s worth seeking out the best chocolate you can find, which, if you’re lucky like I was, might be right next door.

From the roadside stands in the French countryside to the village shops of Greece to the markets of Italy, wherever I spot a market vendor selling jars of thick, sticky, locally produced honey, I feel obligated to buy some. If you think all honey is the same, you haven’t tasted ruggedly bitter Italian chestnut honey or the syrupy, aromatic lavender honey from sunny Provence. This recipe is a good way to use any type of interesting honey that you may have in your pantry. Be sure to use the freshest, crispest, best-quality pistachios you can find. And never toast them, which subdues their vibrant green color.

Although it may seem a little strange, combining chocolate and chile peppers is a Mayan tradition that dates back over 2,000 years. It later became a popular treat among the Aztecs as well. now they may not have been playing with Sriracha, but I’m sure they would have if they could have!

Chocolate lovers, rejoice! Finally, a gourmet chocolate truffle that’s sugar-free and not artificially sweetened. These are so easy to make, you may never buy store-bought chocolate again. For a plain, unadulterated chocolate truffle, omit the hazelnut extract and roll the truffles in premium-quality unsweetened cocoa powder. For vegan truffles, substitute soy creamer for the heavy cream, butter substitute for real butter, and instant soy milk powder for the nonfat dry milk.