Dessert Jar Quotes

She asked if I loved another woman, so I answered honestly and said, “Dinner was great, but I could go for dessert.

She pulls from a shelf certain rare spices and sugars that her successor is unlikely to use. Insulating the jars with softbound books and sheafs of cooking notes, she packs them in a carton that came to this kitchen holding boxes of Italian pasta. She examines the fanciful designs on a container of sugar imported from Turkey, a favorite finish for the surface of cookies: bearclaws, butter wafers. The large, faceted granules glitter like bluish rhinestones; children always choose those cookies first. She wonders if she will be able to get this sugar anymore, if borders will tighten so austerely that she will lose some of her most precious, treasured ingredients: the best dried lavender and mascarpone, pomegranate molasses. But in the scheme of things, does it matter? She comes upon her collection of vinegars, which she uses to brighten the character of certain cakes, to hold the line between sweet and cloying. She takes down a spicy vinegar she bought at a nearby farm; inside the bottle, purple peppers, like sleeping bats, hang from the surface of the liquid. Greenie used it in a dark chocolate ice cream and molasses pie.

SNAPPY TURTLE PIE   1 chocolate cookie crumb pie shell (chocolate is best, but shortbread or graham cracker will also work just fine) 1 pint vanilla ice cream 4 ounces ( of a 6-ounce jar) caramel ice cream topping (I used Smucker’s) ½ cup salted pecan pieces 4 ounces ( of a 6-ounce jar) chocolate fudge ice cream topping (I used Smucker’s) 1 small container frozen Cool Whip (original, not low-fat, or real whipped cream) Hannah’s Note: If you can’t find salted pecans, buy plain pecans. Measure out ½ cup of pieces, heat them in the microwave or the oven until they’re hot and then toss them with 2 Tablespoons of melted, salted butter. Sprinkle on ¼ teaspoon of salt, toss again, and you have salted pecan pieces. Set your cookie crumb pie shell on the counter along with your ice cream carton. Let the ice cream soften for 5 to 10 minutes. You want it approximately the consistency of soft-serve. Using a rubber spatula, spread out your ice cream in the bottom of the chocolate cookie crumb crust. Smooth the top with the spatula. Working quickly, pour the caramel topping over the ice cream. You can drizzle it, pour it, whatever. Just try to get it as evenly distributed as you can. Sprinkle the salted pecan pieces on top of the caramel layer. Pour or drizzle the chocolate fudge topping over the pecans. Cover the top of your pie with wax paper (don’t push it down—you don’t want it to stick) and put your Snappy Turtle Pie in the freezer overnight. Put your container of Cool Whip in the refrigerator overnight. Then it’ll be spreadable in the morning. In the morning, remove your pie from the freezer and spread Cool Whip over the top. Cover it with wax paper again and stick it back into the freezer for at least 6 hours. If you’re not planning to serve your pie for dinner that night, wait until the 6 hours are up and then put it into a freezer bag and return it to the freezer for storage. It will be fine for about a month. Take your Snappy Turtle Pie out of the freezer and place it on the countertop about 15 minutes before you’re ready to serve it. When it’s time for dessert, cut it into 6 pieces as you would a regular pie, put each piece on a dessert plate, and place one Snappy Turtle Cookie (recipe follows) on the center of each piece, the head of the turtle facing the tip of the pie. Yield: 6 slices of yummy ice cream pie that all of your guests will ooh and ahh over.

After finishing their main course and dessert, she and Cady prepared her extra dish. Sophia had decided to make the girls' favorite dinner- beef tenderloin with peppercorn sauce. Soon enough they were plating and rushing back and forth to the huge banquet table set up in the courtyard. Pouring wine and adjusting garnishes and offering smiles to the judges. The ambience of this meal was Sophia's idea of romance. The table was draped with ivory linen and topped with glass jars of flowers. Bouquets of Rosa rugosa and Queen Anne's lace were nestled among votives and bottles of wine. The local glassblower had provided an assortment of pottery dishes and hand-blown goblets. Strands of white lights dangled from the surrounding trees. She and Elliott and the girls plated together, having reached some sort of exhausted Zen state. Emilia scooped the risotto, Elliott placed the salmon on top, Sophia added the three tiny sides shaped with a round cookie cutter. Elliott drizzled his sauce onto the final product. He brushed his shoulder against Sophia each time, needing that physical connection. The plates looked exquisite, artistic. Perfect. She tried to ignore the overwhelming stress of the moment and focus on the food. Cady and Emilia added garnishes- fresh herbs and flowers. And Cady had a whole sheet of candied violets ready to sprinkle on their dessert. It made Elliott laugh and tease them all about being a family of garden sprites. When they finally got to the head of the table and faced a sea of critics, Sophia felt confident about their choices. They'd prepared a beautiful meal that successfully showcased Elliott's love for Scottish tradition, local Vermont products, and the Brown family's love of fresh vegetables and herbs. All the components meshed together into one cohesive meal.

I've never known anyone with the capacity for sugar that Adeena has. She'd demolished her waffles, which she'd drowned in syrup, and then ordered a slice of triple chocolate tuxedo pie, another sugar bomb. If I ate the way she'd did, I'd have lost a foot to diabetes by now. Martha slid our desserts in front of us, and Adeena and I hummed in appreciation after taking our first bites. The lemon icebox cake was cold and creamy, with a background sweetness and a whole lot of tang. As I often did when sampling delicious desserts, I tried to deconstruct what was in it. Graham crackers, cream cheese, whipped cream, and a ton of lemon curd seemed to be the basis of the recipe. Similar to the ginger calamansi pie I'd made, but simpler and no-bake, if I decided to buy the graham crackers instead of making my own. Definitely worth experimenting with, as I had a jar of calamansi curd tucked away in the fridge just begging to be used. I made a note on my phone later, maybe as a summer offering. As per usual when eating out, Adeena and I swapped plates so we could taste each other's desserts. "What do you think, girls?" I grinned at Martha. "Delicious. I love how the lemon cake is sweet and tangy, but you don't go too far in either direction." Adeena added, "It's the perfect counterpoint to my chocolate pie, which is divine, by the way. Rich, creamy, and so satisfying.

SAFFRON SUMMER COMPOTE Compote de Pêches aux Safran A few threads of saffron add depth--- maybe even a little fancy-pants--- to this summer compote. I make mine with a mix of white and yellow peaches and juicy nectarines, whatever I have on hand. Top your morning yogurt, layer in a parfait, or serve with a slice of pound cake and a dollop of crème fraîche. When I get my canning act together, this is what I'm going to make, jars and jars of golden days to last me through the chill of winter. 2 pounds of slightly overripe fruit (a mix of peaches, nectarines, and apricots) 1 tablespoon of raw sugar 2 good pinches of saffron Cut the fruit into 1-inch cubes. I don't especially feel the need to peel. In a heavy-bottomed saucepan, combine the fruit and sugar. Bring to a boil, stir in the saffron, and let simmer over low heat until thickened and slightly reduced; mine took about 40 minutes. Serve warm or cold. Serves 6-8

Jikan reaches for the jar of pickles and pops it open. “Dessert pasta.” “With pickles?” I blurt out before I can stop myself. But Jikan just rolls his eyes. “Obviously not, Grace. They’re for eating while we cook.

Even with the quirky presentation, the food, Gemma had to admit, had been divine. From the creamy, smoky trout spread, to the delicate salad with roasted pears, caramel, and a local blue cheese, to the meltingly tender lamb and white beans served in camping tins, it had been of absolute star quality. What, Gemma had to wonder, was a chef so talented doing in this tiny village? She nibbled at the last bit of her pudding. The little jam jar she'd chosen had held a mixed berry crumble with a tangy layer of creme fraîche- a dessert she suspected she'd find herself dreaming about. All round her, spoons were being laid down and empty jars examined in hopes of finding a smidgen more.

I loved shopping on rue Montorgueil so much that I often carted home more food- slices of spinach and goat cheese tourtes; jars of lavender honey and cherry jam, tiny, wild handpicked strawberries; fraises aux bois- than one person alone could possibly eat. Now at least I had an excuse to fill up my canvas shopping bag. "Doesn't it smell amazing?" I gushed once we had crossed the threshold of my favorite boulangerie. Mom, standing inside the doorway clutching her purse, just nodded as she filled her lungs with the warm, yeasty air, her eyes alight with a brightness I didn't remember from home. With a fresh-from-the-oven baguette in hand, we went to the Italian épicerie, where from the long display of red peppers glistening in olive oil, fresh raviolis dusted in flour, and piles and piles of salumi, soppressata, and saucisson, which we chose some thinly sliced jambon blanc and a mound of creamy mozzarella. At the artisanal bakery, Eric Kayser, we took our time selecting three different cakes from the rows of lemon tarts, chocolate éclairs, and what I was beginning to recognize as the French classics: dazzling gâteaux with names like the Saint-Honoré, Paris-Brest, and Opéra. Voila, just like that, we had dinner and dessert. We headed back to the tree house- those pesky six flights were still there- and prepared for our modest dinner chez-moi. Mom set the table with the chipped white dinner plates and pressed linen napkins. I set out the condiments- Maille Dijon mustard, tart and grainy with multicolored seeds; organic mayo from my local "bio" market; and Nicolas Alziari olive oil in a beautiful blue and yellow tin- and watched them get to it. They sliced open the baguette, the intersection of crisp and chewy, and dressed it with slivers of ham and dollops of mustard. I made a fresh mozzarella sandwich, drizzling it with olive oil and dusting it with salt and pepper.