Sometimes we start off on the wrong foot with food. Such was the case with my husband and the pretty, leaf-topped persimmon. One bite of a firm, unripe persimmon and Sean swore never to touch this fall fruit again. Why such a negative reaction? Unless it’s ripe, this small, plump orb tastes as bitter as a harsh astringent. Persimmons peak in mid-October. By that point they’ve turned a beautiful brilliant orange and taken on a soft texture and honey-apricot flavor. Any picked and eaten before then run the risk of tasting tinny and, in Sean’s case, terrible. Early settlers learned this invaluable lesson about ripeness from Native Americans. They allowed the fruit to ripen fully and fall from the tree before consuming it. Even with this good example some colonists found out the hard way about young persimmons. In the 17th century Captain John Smith noted that ‘if it be not ripe it will draw a mans mouth awrie with much torment . …” Boy, does that sound familiar! A good persimmon requires only a …

If you give fresh fruit to me this summer, chances are that I’ll wash and then tumble it into a greased baking dish and bake a fruit crisp. Rhubarb, strawberries, blackberries, blueberries and peaches have all bubbled away beneath a blanket of brown sugar, cinnamon, oatmeal and butter. Sure, with the exception of rhubarb, I could have enjoyed any of these raw. Yet, I can’t seem to stop myself from making and eating these treats. What prompted this obsession I do not know. Maybe it’s a touch of summer laziness for the crisp is one of the fastest and easiest desserts to bake. What I do know is that my crisp often gets confused with other sweets. At countless dinners and parties friends have thanked me for bringing a crumble, cobbler or slump. Who’s right? And just what am I baking? Although I think of “slump” as what my mother told me never to do, the word actually refers to a luscious dessert. Hailing from New England, it consists of fresh fruit topped with dollops …

Time to make the doughnuts or, at the very least, eat them. Yes, folks, today is National Doughnut Day. We can thank one of my former employers, the Salvation Army, for creating this special holiday. Originating from a Salvation Army fundraiser in 1938, the event honored women volunteers who had handed out doughnuts to World War I soldiers in France. Some may deem a day dedicated to rings of deep-fried dough silly. Yet, when you consider classic American foods, the doughnut invariably springs to mind. With its moist, yielding interior, delicate, sugary crust and ease of portability it has been dazzling and sustaining diners for centuries. Truthfully, it’s about time that the doughnut has its day. In the 21st century National Doughnut Day means free treats for everyone. Krispy Kreme is giving away one doughnut per customer, no purchase necessary, while Dunkin’ Donuts is offering a free doughnut with any beverage bought. While Dunkin Donuts and Krispy Kreme may have become somewhat synonymous with this delicious sweet, neither receives the credit for inventing it. Who …

The Bundt cake. For some sweets lovers it’s the ultimate retro dessert. Still others write off this dense confection as pure kitsch. At times I’ve found myself in both camps. One look at that perfectly fluted ring and I flashback to elementary school and all the Bundt coffee cakes that my mother would bake. Iced with a mixture of confectioner’s sugar, milk and florescent yellow, orange or red food coloring, these day-glo treats were the psychedelic stars of her late 1970’s kitchen. Chances are that Bundt cakes popped up my grandmothers’ kitchens, too. In 1949 the Minnesota-based cookware company Nordic Ware produced its first Bundt pan. Crafted from heavy cast aluminum, the 10-cup mold was derived from a ceramic, German cake pan. Unique to the Nordic Ware creation, the form’s fluted sides allowed for even, easy slicing. Initially, consumers baked pound cakes in the pan. As the years passed, cooks discovered other uses. Quick breads, molded salads, Jello, steamed puddings and ice cream cakes could all be made in it. Although I’ve yet to shape …

As a kid, I thought of toffee only as the dark, crunchy center found in those chocolaty Hershey’s treats, Heath bars. It wasn’t until adulthood, when I ventured into Scotland, the land of sweeties and sticky toffee pudding, that I realized how versatile and tasty this confection could be. Although my toffee epiphany happened in the UK, the sweet itself comes not from Great Britain but from Canada. There a 16th century French educator, Marguerite Bourgeoys, created a molasses candy to attract, as she reputedly called students, the “little savages” to her French Canadian school. While Bourgeoys’s toffee featured molasses as its main ingredient, British and American versions use a combination of sugar, butter and water or cream. The three are boiled together in a large saucepan until they reach a temperature of anywhere from 260 to 300 degrees Fahrenheit. The higher temperature produces a brittle, tawny candy while the lower yields a luscious, amber syrup. If firm candy is the goal, the hot toffee is poured out to set. Once it has hardened, it …

Spend a week in Portugal and no doubt you’ll end up with a serious addiction to pasteis de natas. Sweet and creamy yet with a slight crunch, these small custard tarts line the windows of most bakeries and coffee shops. The locals blanket them with cinnamon and a smidgen of powdered sugar before consuming them at breakfast or as a snack. In my case no day in Portugal was complete without at least one of these bite-sized treats. Although I found them throughout Portugal, legend has it that de natas originated on the outskirts of Lisbon, at Belem’s Mosteiro dos Jerónimos. There lay bakers produced pasteis de natas for the general public. In the early 19th century, when the monastery closed, a neighboring confectioner, Domingo Rafael Alves, bought the recipe from one of the out-of-work bakers and started offering them in his shop. Today Alves’ Pasteis de Belem has become a tourist attraction in its own right. Made using the monastery’s original, secret recipe, Pasteis de Belem’s tarts draw countless customers to the cafe seven …

After a long season of munching on buttery cakes, iced cookies, and gooey candy the last thing that I want to bake, or eat, is dessert. I do, however, make an exception for meringues. Take one bite of an ethereally light meringue and you’ll understand why this confection was originally dubbed “sugar puff.” Crafted from egg whites and granulated sugar, this is one of the daintiest and simplest sweets that you’ll ever taste. As a child, I associated meringue with the browned peaks capping off my mom’s coconut cream and lemon meringue pies. Yet, as I later learned, it is so much more than a topping for creamy treats. Where would ile flottante be without its white, fluffy islands or baked Alaska without its elegant, insulating alps? Minus meringue both become pools of cream sloshing about on our plates. Without question meringue remains the backbone of these and many other desserts. Debate over the origins of this airy treat has raged on for decades. Some culinary historians credit the Swiss pastry chef Galasparini in the …

I know that many will disagree but, for me, this decade will go down in history as the ten long years of molten chocolate lava cakes.  My first experience with them came not in a restaurant but in my own kitchen.  Armed with Nigella Lawson’s classic cookbook “How to Eat” (Wiley, 2000), I set out to create her gooey chocolate puddings.  These wonderfully decadent treats, I later came to learn, are also known by such monikers as molten chocolate cakes, chocolate lava cakes, and chocolate cakes with warm ganache centers.  Same dessert.  Countless names. Check out the dessert menu at any upscale and/or New American restaurant and I bet that you will spot this sweet. Every 21st century chef seems to have fallen for this moist and oozing chocolate specialty.   Although the recipe is quite simple, many mess up the molten chocolate lava cake (MCLC). Usually the chef has baked the pudding for far too long. Insert your fork into one of these overcooked MCLC’s and you’ll not see that glorious stream of steaming chocolate cascade onto your plate.  Instead you’ll have a forkful of dry chocolate cake.  To …