Strawberry

This mixture of sour and whipped cream is akin to crème fraîche, but I find it more delicious. It’s killer on strawberries.

A simple, traditional, and super-rich dessert.

This recipe and the four that follow share one basic requirement: in-season, preferably locally grown strawberries. In the event that you can’t find strawberries that match that description, substitute any other berries—blackberries, blueberries, raspberries—that are at their peak. Look for strawberries that are dark red, inside and out. The sugar will juice up any strawberries and make them sweeter of course, but it cannot work miracles.

Made with soft berries, this is straightforward, easy, and delicious; it also has beautiful color. I like it best with blueberries, because they need no straining. If you use raspberries or other berries with seeds, force the soup through a fine strainer instead of pureeing it in the blender to remove them. This is great not only as a dessert but also for breakfast or as a snack.

Trifles are anything but trifles: they take a good deal of work to put together, they’re about as caloric as desserts get, and, in the right serving vessel—like a large glass dish with tall, straight sides that reveals the tempting layers of cake, cream, fruit—they’re absolute showstoppers. In England, one is often wowed by the guiltless and masterful employment of loads of cream in many desserts. Trifles are a showcase for the British love of cream—in this case both whipped and pastry.

I serve this as a congealed salad at holiday meals.

Niño envuelto means “wrapped baby,” and it is basically a sponge cake filled with some kind of jam, cream, cajeta, or mousse, rolled up tightly, and covered with confectioner’s sugar, cream, coconut, almonds, chocolate, or meringue. It is served as a dessert, but you can also find it in panaderías sold in slices. Although I have always loved sweets, cake has never been my favorite dessert, and I think it’s because I really like crunchy things. The one exception to this rule is pastel de fresas con crema (vanilla cake filled and covered with whipped cream and strawberries). When I think about this cake, my mouth waters and I remember the Gran Via bakery, which has been making one of the best versions of this cake since the late 1960s. When the bakery first started, they sold only two things: this strawberry layered cake and huge meringues filled with whipped cream. So, when deciding what kind of niño envuelto to make, it seemed only natural to blend all of these flavors and textures into one. It is important that the eggs be at room temperature to ensure a spongy cake, so separate the eggs, cover them, and allow to come to room temperature for 30 minutes before whipping.

PAT I guess you could say I developed a love of ice cream because of my grandmother. For her, only homemade would do, and her homemade was some of the very best. Her fresh strawberry ice cream was one of my favorites. It so happens that Father’s Day falls smack in the middle of strawberry season—and don’t you know it, Grandma, I’m taking a page from your playbook. There’s something about fresh strawberries and cream, and when you spoon out a mouthful of this ice cream, you’ll see what I mean. The best thing about this recipe is that you can make more and have some for the day after Father’s Day. The sweetened condensed milk makes this a creamy, very soft, and scoopable ice cream.

This simple panna cotta is all about the tangy flavor of creamy buttermilk topped with a sweet-tart spoonful or two of bright red balsamic-glazed strawberries.

This pretty cake was inspired by a jar of brown sugar–strawberry jam from Blackberry Farm (see Sources, page 377), a wonderful inn in the Tennessee mountains, and my grandmother’s old jam cake recipe. The combination of sweet fruit preserves, soft cream, and tender yellow cake makes me think of it as one part strawberry shortcake and two parts English trifle, in sliceable form. When we make it at Foster’s, we leave the sides unfrosted because it looks so homey when the frosting oozes from between the layers and down the sides of the cake. Note that the Buttermilk Crème Fraîche must be made at least two days ahead; if necessary, you can always substitute sour cream or store-bought crème fraîche.

Growing up, my sister, Judy, and I coveted one simple dish above all others for breakfast: hot biscuits topped with lightly mashed strawberries and lots of sweet butter. I use a dead-simple recipe for cream biscuits adapted here from the Times-Picayune of New Orleans.

Vietnamese cooks, like many other Asian cooks, make jellied treats from agar-agar. When a particularly grand presentation is on the menu, they use intricate molds to create multicolored desserts that look like elaborately decorated Western cakes. This simple almond jelly and fruit combo is a summertime favorite in my home. Originally prepared in China, the mildly sweet chunks of firm white jelly may be eaten alone, but they are more festive when accompanied with fruits. I use lychees and jackfruit, both of which are surprisingly good canned, along with fresh strawberries for contrast, but you may use any macerated or poached fruit you like. Twenty-five-gram packets of agar-agar powder (bot rau câu, or seaweed powder) are sold at Chinese and Southeast Asian markets. If the powder is not shelved with the agar-agar sticks or strands, ask for it; it is sometimes kept at the cash registers. Telephone brand from Thailand is popular. If you cannot find agar-agar, use unflavored gelatin.

This is an easy, off-the-cuff dessert with plenty of options and jumping-off points. If you want something richer, feel free to use higher-fat yogurt. I pair the rhubarb with strawberries because the two have overlapping seasons and are such stunning partners, but if you’ve got access to other good fruit, this parfait also works beautifully with blackberries, raspberries, blueberries—even winter citrus, such as neat slices of Cara Cara or blood oranges, clementines, or tangerines.