Vegetarian

I think of cajeta as the risotto of dessert sauces, since it’s made on the stovetop and requires vigilant attention while it simmers and transforms itself from ordinary ingredients (milk and sugar) into a deeply browned, sticky-sweet paste. The first cajeta I tasted was made in Mexico from goat’s milk, and it was absolutely the best thing I’d ever tasted. Since you might not be able to find goat’s milk, or it may not be to your taste, cow’s milk makes yummy cajeta as well. Begin your cajeta in a very large pot, with a capacity of at least 8 quarts (8 liters), since the mixture can bubble up unexpectedly. It should be a heavy-duty pot with a thick bottom. Be sure to pay attention while you’re cooking it, especially during the last 20 minutes, when it’s vital to keep watch. If you don’t stir it constantly during that final stage of cooking, it’s likely to scorch on the bottom. If it does, simply strain it to remove any browned bits.

There’s nothing that beats the taste of darkly caramelized sugar transformed by a pour of cream into a suave, velvety caramel sauce. If you’ve never made caramel before, it’s simple, but do take care, since the sugar gets very hot as it liquefies. Wear an oven mitt when stirring in the cream, and resist the temptation to gaze too closely into the pot while it’s bubbling and boiling away.

The coffee craze shows no sign of slowing down. And fueled by all that caffeine, it probably never will. This sauce combines coffee and chocolate into mocha, named after an Arabian port famous for its coffee. Somewhere along the line, chocolate got added, and “mocha” nowadays means coffee fortified with a good dose of chocolate.

This sauce is very rich and very thick. If you prefer your hot fudge on the sweeter side, this is the one for you.

To make the tastiest and most colorful granita, be sure to select kiwifruits that are tender and soft to the touch. They’ll have the most vibrant green flesh and the fullest, most tropically tinged flavor.

A chef once asked me if all pastry chefs were crazy. To be honest, we do have that reputation, since many of us are indeed crazed perfectionists. If we get something in our minds, we’re not satisfied until it’s just right. When I imagined the perfect hot fudge sauce, I envisioned it being gooey, shiny, silky smooth, and full of deep, dark chocolate flavor. So I tinkered around until I came up with the perfect version of this sauce.

Either cantaloupe or honeydew melon makes a wonderful granita. Use the best you find at the market. Be sure to heft a few and take a sniff to find the sweetest specimen.

I know people who are grapefruit dependent. They’re addicted to starting their day with half a pink grapefruit. They absolutely have to have one, and frankly, that’s a little odd to me. It’s not that I don’t like grapefruits, and I often buy them with the intention of following in the healthy footsteps of my grapefruit-dependent friends. But the next morning I wake up and honestly can’t seem to face anything but a much-needed, soothing pot of coffee and a couple of nonconfrontational slices of buttered toast. Later in the day, those pink grapefruits become more and more appealing though, and I’ll slice one in half and greedily attack the sections, slurping up the plentiful juice while perched over the sink to contain the mess from my assault. So perhaps I do have some grapefruit issues of my own, but I wait until later in the day before I succumb and take my tumble off the citrus wagon.

Perhaps the most eye-popping of all the granitas, this one has a color that perfectly matches the dazzling flavor of the raspberries. If using frozen raspberries, let them thaw before you purée them.

I love the word spremuta, which means “freshly pressed orange juice” in Italian. At any caffè, if you order one, you’ll be brought a tall, vivid red glass of juice served with a few packets of sugar and a long, slender spoon alongside. Although years ago Americans were astonished when confronted with blood orange juice, this colorful citrus fruit has become common stateside and can be found in many supermarkets and farmer’s markets. When sliced open, they reveal a brilliantly colored interior, and like snowflakes, each one intrigues me, since no two seem to be colored alike. The Moro variety of blood oranges is the most intensely colored, but other varieties, like Sanguinelli and Tarocco, make remarkably colorful granita as well.

Try this granita drizzled with a shot of tequila and sprinkled with a pinch of coarse salt for a Margranita.

The best grapes to use for making this granita are bold-tasting varieties. Full-flavored dark Muscat grapes are perfect, as are Concord grapes, sometimes referred to by winemakers as tasting “foxy.” Speaking of winemakers, just about any grapes used for winemaking make excellent granita. Don’t use the common seedless grapes found in supermarkets, though, since they don’t have much flavor once cooked. The amount of water will depend on the type of grapes you use. Before adding the water, taste the mixture. Add the smaller amount of water, and then taste it again to see if it needs more.

A few years back, while I was making a chocolate dessert during a cooking demonstration, I noticed a woman sitting in the third row was watching me with what I thought was disdain. Attempting to win her over, while everyone ate their samples I asked what she thought, and she responded matter-of-factly, “I don’t really like chocolate.” So smart-aleck me shot back, “You’re probably one of those lemon people!” To which she sheepishly nodded yes. I kept on baking and finished the class. But my accusatory words “one of those lemon people” stuck in my mind, and I worried for a long time that she might have been affronted by my comment. Years later, there she was again in my audience! I was happy to see her, since experts advocate finding resolution to traumatic events in your life (like meeting someone who doesn’t like chocolate). Attempting reparation, I asked if I had offended her several years back. She was surprised that I even remembered and said that no, she wasn’t offended in the least. In fact, she even brought me a tasty gift (not chocolate…but I’m letting that go) and then slipped off into the night. So this is my gift back to her, the mysterious lemon lover, whoever and wherever you are.

There’s a good reason mojitos have become all the rage. Made with rum and lots of fresh mint and lime juice, this lively Cuban cocktail practically begs to be made into a terrific granita. To make it more adult, drizzle a bit of extra rum over each serving and garnish with fresh mint sprigs.

Curiously, this granita really comes alive when a few grains of coarse salt are flecked over each serving. When I had friends over for a taste, they were surprised to see me salting their granita, but they quickly changed their minds when they tasted it. Try fleur de sel, hand-harvested salt crystals from France, or whisper-thin squares of Maldon salt, from England.

The arrival of cranberries in the fall magically coincides with the holiday food shopping frenzy. A wonder of nature? Or just good timing? Regardless, I’m happy whenever I find cranberries in abundance. Their flavor is invigorating and restorative, which is probably why they’re so popular around the time of year when many of us could use help after overindulging in copious holiday feasts.

Choose a fragrant, tasty variety of pear for this granita, such as Comice, Bartlett, or French butter. Few people think of pairing pears with chocolate, but it’s a surprisingly good combination, and once you taste it, you’ll wish you’d known about it sooner. Don’t hesitate to use one of my Perfect Pairings that follow the recipe to make up for lost time.

If you’re looking for a chocolate dessert that’s fudgy and festive without being fussy and filling, here it is. Using a top-quality cocoa powder and just the right amount of dark chocolate ensures that this granita will satisfy any and all chocolate lovers.

This granita is a favorite in Italy, where they top it with what seems like an unspeakable amount of whipped cream, which I see many Americans scraping off just after they walk out the door—to the shock of passing Italians. You don’t need to heap it on quite as high, but a dollop of Whipped Cream (page 170) is always a welcome, and sometimes necessary, counterpoint to the strong coffee.

Cutting up a papaya can be a rather messy affair, with the dark, slippery seeds spilling all over the place. I always eat a few of them, which I call the caviar of the fruit world. Try a few; you’ll find they’re quite spicy and peppery. If possible, choose a brilliant orange variety of papaya. I find Latin American markets usually have the widest selection, with the best coming from Central America or Hawaii. Sometimes you’ll find giant papayas cut into small pieces, which gives you a good chance to check out the color of the flesh beforehand.