Like apfelstrudel. This flaky pastry filled with fruit is a fine vessel for rhubarb, I’ve recently found out. I was preparing a typical Bavarian lunch for the German Braumeister at the brewery, with imported weisswurst, brezels (pretzels), homemade sauerkraut and a shoddy attempt at potato knudel, when I thought that a light dessert of strudel would be a fitting way to finish. Turns out that strudel actually originates from Austria, although it’s enjoyed pretty much throughout Europe as well as the States.

Granny Smith apples and rhubarbs

It also turns out that making traditional strudel dough is pretty brutal. If you’re setting out to do it from scratch, I don’t envy your task — pulling out dough to paper-thin sheets, laying it across towels or parchment and rolling it up without tearing. Unlike the puff pastry and other buttery, leavened doughs which apple strudel is often made with nowadays, the traditional strudel has much finer layers that are rolled up around filling. It’s not a perfect substitute but phyllo dough (or filo dough) is similar. So I bought some frozen sheets of that and called it a day.

brushing the phyllo sheets with melted butter

lining the edge with filling

Now for the fun stuff: I used slightly more rhubarb than apples in this filling mixture, although I was aiming for 50/50. Granny smith, chopped to small cubes, and crisp, finely chopped stalks of rhubarb were coated well in brown sugar for the filling. The rhubarb lends so much natural tartness that no lemon juice was needed. And to taste it even more, I didn’t add any spices, either.

They might seem fibrous, but rhubarbs melt down to a silky-smooth and thick sauce when cooked. I like how they’re not too runny with juices, like berries, too. Combined with apples, which also softened and lent a slightly banana-like sweetness, the filling stayed right where it was supposed to be while the strudel baked. (Except for one little tear, where it oozed out.)

rolled up, brushed with more butter, and ready to bake

a little spill

This was easier than pie to make. Cut into generous pieces after resting a while, the hot, fruity filling was refreshingly tangy and sweet. It was also a noticeable shade of spring green, thanks to the rhubarb. A sprinkle of cinnamon on top gives the just-baked crust a little flourish, or you could dust it with powdered sugar more in keeping with tradition instead. It’s not your average apple strudel, in any case.

Apple-Rhubarb Strudel
(makes 2 12″ long strudels, or about 12 pieces)

2 Granny Smith apples, peeled, cored and chopped to roughly 1/2″ pieces
4-5 rhubarb stalks, chopped to roughly 1/2″ pieces
1/2 cup brown sugar
30 12″ long phyllo dough sheets, slightly thawed
about 6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
cinnamon or confectioners sugar for garnish (optional)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a bowl, combine the chopped apples and rhubarbs with the sugar.

Line your work surface with parchment paper or a clean towel. Place three sheets of the phyllo dough on top and brush surface with the melted butter. Place another three sheets on top and brush with butter. Repeat until there are 15 sheets of paper, with brushed butter in between every three. Arrange half of the filling along one side of the sheets, about an inch from the edge. Carefully roll up the strudel. Repeat for the second strudel. Brush both tops with remaining butter. Bake for 35-40 minutes, or until tops are golden brown. Remove from heat, Let cool at least ten minutes before cutting to serve.

Cost Calculator
(for about 12 servings)

2 Granny Smith apples (at $1.50/lb): $1.00
5 rhubarb stalks (at $4/lb): $2.25
about 3/4 package of phyllo dough at $3.49: $2.60
1/2 cup brown sugar: $0.30
6 tablespoons butter: $1.50

Total: $6.65

Health Factor

Six brownie points: Sweet and satisfyingly buttery, this fresh fruit-based dessert is actually a healthier choice than many. The phyllo dough is brushed lightly with butter throughout, but has none of the weight of typical pie pastries and won’t fill you up with too many carbs after you’ve already had your meal. The filling may be sweetened with brown sugar, but rhubarbs alone are low in calories. Though they’re not a fruit, but a juicy stalk of a perennial plant, they’re rich in B-vitamins, Vitamin K, and Vitamin A (especially the more red-colored stalks).

Green Factor

Seven maple leaves: I’ve been eating local apples for what seems like a whole year — still around thanks to cold storage, they’re in the farmers’ markets now along with newer arrivals like rhubarb. And for baking, along with spreading any piece of bread thickly with too, I really prefer this stuff called “pasture butter” from Organic Valley, made from pastured cows’ milk. The taste is off-the-charts good, and it reminded me of the amazing “Alpenbutter” that I’d become addicted to in Germany, which was also made from grazed cows. It’s really expensive, but there’s no going back to other butters for me. The nice yellow color (thanks to all the beta-carotene in the grass) of the butter also makes everything look nice.

I’ve heard of frozen desserts based on pure bananas, because its naturally creamy texture emulates ice cream. But that’s not what I’ve done here. I made a rich, eggy, custard base to envelop the banana in sweet, dairy bliss. There’s a time and place for everything, right?

overripe bananas

These bananas were clearly destined for some cooked preparation. The last stragglers from a once healthy-looking bunch, they two burst open instead of tearing apart at the stem when I tried to pull them apart. I’d wanted to try to keep some chunks intact once they were in the ice cream, so I chopped them into sizable pieces before browning them in a small amount of butter. They quickly turned translucent and began to spill some juices in the pan, and filled the room with a wonderful aroma.

caramelizing on a pan with a pinch of salt

My goal was to get them to just this stage — slightly caramelized — before pulling them to set aside. While doing so, I added a generous pinch of sea salt just to see how that would play. Salty caramel is almost a misnomer for sweets these days, it’s so popular. I can totally see why, and combined with the tropical banana flavor, it’s a hit as well.

whisking the sugar and egg yolks

I didn’t add any vanilla or other flavorings to the ice cream base, and the final product proved it didn’t need any. A couple of mushy bananas go a long way. The smudgy, slightly salty, caramelized bits on some pieces were pleasant bursts of flavor to come across while working on a scoop. So easy, I don’t see why ice cream isn’t the de-facto solution for old bananas instead of quick breads.

Salty Caramel Banana Ice Cream
(makes 1 quart)

1 cup heavy cream
2 cups whole milk
2 overripe bananas, peeled and cut to 1/2″ pieces
1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon sugar
5 egg yolks
1/4 teaspoon sea salt
1 tablespoon butter

Melt the butter in a wide, heavy-bottomed pan over medium-high heat. Spread the banana slices across and let them brown for at least 1 minute, without turning. Sprinkle on the tablespoon of sugar and the salt. Flip and toss the bananas around to get color on more sides. Once most of the bananas have softened and caramelized a little, transfer to a bowl.

Heat the milk and cream in a saucepan just until it’s about to boil, and remove from heat. Meanwhile, beat the yolks with the remaining sugar in a bowl until it’s lighter in color and fluffy. Add a small spoonful of the hot milk mixture to the egg mixture while whisking rapidly. Continue adding a very small amount of the milk mixture at a time while whisking to temper the eggs. Once about 1/2 cup of the milk mixture has been added, transfer the egg mixture to the saucepan with the rest of the milk mixture and stir well. Heat over medium and stir constantly, about 6-8 minutes or just until the mixture is smooth enough to coat the back of a spoon. Do not let boil!

Let the custard cool. Gently fold in the bananas and store in an airtight container. Chill at least 6 hours or overnight. Transfer to an ice cream maker and follow the directions of the machine to turn it into ice cream.

Cost Calculator
(for quart, or about 6 servings)

1 cup heavy cream: $2.39
2 cups whole milk: $2.00
2 bananas: $0.50
1/2 cup plus 1 Tb sugar: $0.50
5 egg yolks: $1.00
1 Tb butter, pinch of salt: $0.35

Total: $6.74

Health Factor

Eight brownie points: There’s something to say for using fresh fruit in an ice cream flavor, but not that much. True, bananas are an excellent source of potassium, but this ice cream is an excellent source of cholesterol, sugar, saturated fat. At least there’s calcium, too.

Green Factor

Five maple leaves: I know what you’re thinking — bananas are a hopelessly non-local fruit. For what it’s worth, you can find organic bananas, which were *hopefully* not doused with damaging chemical pesticides and fertilizers and which, according to some, tend to bruise and age more quickly. Mine did, at least. The rest of the main ingredients in this ice cream — milk, cream, butter and eggs — were from responsible, local farmers at the Greenmarket, whose tasty products help make this ice cream even better.

I got a real craving to make something cool and creamy after a friend brought her homemade coconut cream pie to a birthday party recently. The process was simple, she explained: beat eggs with sugar and some cornstarch, and slowly incorporate scalding-hot milk. Then flaked coconut is added, and the whole thing chills inside a baked pie crust shell. The steps are also similar to creating an ice cream base from scratch, or creme anglaise. The starch just stiffens the mixture up a little more, so that you can cut clean slices of it from a pie, or scoops from a ramekin if you choose to forego the crust.

black sesame seeds

Which I did. There are plenty of variations and nuances on how to make a creamy custard, but this is one easy amalgam, incorporating toasted black sesame seeds instead of coconut. Ground into a sweet paste to stuff inside buns, cakes, mochi, or to flavor ice cream with, black sesame is one of the most popular flavors for sweets in East Asia. It’s one of my favorites, period. It’s prized in spite of the strange bleakness of its color (or lack thereof), because it just tastes so great. Intensely nutty and savory-sweet at once, the stuff is also texturally stimulating, as the ground little seeds still offer some resistance.

half-crushed pebbles of sesame are added to the beaten sugar and yolks

I decided to play this up by only half-crushing the seeds in this custard. The flavor seeps into the heated milk and stains it grey this way, but individual toasted seeds float throughout. Toasting the sesame seeds is something to keep your eye on, because it can be so easily overdone. Scatter the seeds on a hot, wide pan with a thick bottom, and just as soon as the room becomes fragrant with toasted sesame, pour them out of the pan before they burn. You can lightly crush the seeds, once toasted, with a mortar and pestle, or run them for a few pulses in a food processor. For a more refined, silken texture, strain them out of the milk mixture completely once they have seeped for twenty minutes or so.

Devoted fans of black sesame treats will devour this one, and those less familiar to the flavor may be pleasantly surprised. I served these custards to one of each type of eater the other night, and they both scraped their ramekins clean.

Black Sesame Custards
(makes 4-5 servings)

1 pint whole milk
3 egg yolks
1/3 cup sugar
1/2 cup black sesame seeds
1 Tablespoon cornstarch

Heat a wide, heavy-bottomed pan over high heat and once hot, add the sesame seeds. Stir or shake pan constantly to promote an even toasting. Once fragrant with toastiness, about 1-2 minutes, immediately pour the seeds into a separate container. Lightly crush seeds with a mortar and pestle, or run them for a few pulses in a food processor.

Heat the milk in a saucepan enough to just bring to a boil, but reduce heat before letting it bubble.

Meanwhile, beat the yolks, sugar and cornstarch in a small bowl until fluffy and lighter in color. Add the toasted sesame seeds. While whisking, drizzle in a small ladle of the hot milk. Drizzle in a little more, still whisking, and a little more. Once about a cup of milk has been added, transfer the egg mixture into the saucepan with the rest of the milk and stir. Place over medium heat and slowly bring mixture to a boil, stirring constantly. Let it bubble and thicken, while stirring, about 2 minutes. Then remove from heat and let cool. (Optionally, you can strain out the sesame seeds at this point if desired.)

Transfer to individual ramekins and cover with plastic wrap. Let chill completely overnight or at least six hours until firm and cold. Serve with optional black sesame seeds as garnish.

Cost Calculator
(for 4-5 servings)

1 pint (2 cups) whole milk (at $4/quart Ronnybrook): $2.00
3 egg yolks (at $4/dozen): $0.38
1/3 cup sugar: $0.40
1/2 cup black sesame seeds (from a big bag found at an Asian market): $1.00
1 tablespoon cornstarch: $0.20

Total: $3.98

Health Factor

Seven brownie points: In my opinion, desserts should be so intensely flavorful that you’ll want to eat them in moderation. This one’s a great burst of sweet sesame, and it comes with lots of sugar and cholesterol. At least you’re not eating the buttery pie crust as well? But sesame seeds, which you’ll be having a hearty portion of in this dessert, also offer heart-healthy fats and protein, thought to help reduce cholesterol, as well as lots of mineral such as copper and magnesium. (Think tahini only black, and heavily sweetened.)

Green Factor

Five maple leaves: The eggs and milk are easy to purchase responsibly, from a humane and local farm, but black sesame seeds? I’m not sure where to look on that one. In any case, it’s a natural, plant-based food that can be found in ethnic markets of many types, so hit up your local favorite spice warehouse (like Sahadi’s in Brooklyn) to find it and maybe learn more.

Yes, you can eat these gourds — as cute or as dimpled and ugly as they come. Fortunately, I picked up a few that were more on the cute side, without warts. Here is a red kuri, a sugar dumpling, and a carnival squash. It was the sugar dumpling squash that I ultimately used in the recipe here, since it was the smallest one that I’d picked. But it was also the one that inspired me to do something with it sort of like its name implied.

kuri, sugar dumpling, and carnival squashes

I’ve baked sweets, savory soups, and sweet-and-savory beans inside squashes before. So while enjoying the crisp apples the fall brought, I figured I’d bake some of those in one, too. The small, round shapes of winter squashes like sugar dumpling and carnival make for perfect individual portions of crisp. Don’t be shy if your squash is less than perfectly round, though — I though these sugar dumpling squashes would be a lot more awkward than they turned out. You can try it out with a hollowed sugar pumpkin, too, or go for a more oblong look if using a small, sweet delicata.

halved and scraped of its seeds

Before I go into how to make this apple crisp in a squash half — which is pretty much the explanation right there — a moment to reflect on why these squashes can be so tricky to find. To quell any concerns, these and other more “decorative” gourds are every bit a foodstuff as butternut squashes or pumpkins. But like so many varieties of produce, they weren’t favored for one reason or another when agriculture went industrial. Squashes are an especially various group, and some types are only common in certain cuisines, like kabocha in Japanese, or calabaza in Caribbean. They each have their nuances, which is fun to discover when cooking.

mixing up a simple apple filling

stuffing them into the par-roasted halves

Because the squash’s flesh is left au naturel in this recipe, be warned that it will taste much less intense than most sweet desserts (like a spiced pumpkin pie filling). The idea here is to scrape its softened flesh along with spoonfuls of the apple filling, all the way to the squash’s peel. It’s a healthier alternative to pumpkin pie, and you can taste the unique varietal of squash all the more.

I’ve allowed extra cooking time that the squash halves alone will spend in the oven, to soften enough. Adjust as needed according to the size and shape of your own squash — I know they’ll never be the same as the ones I’ve used just now!

Squash-Apple Crisps
(makes 2)

1 small, preferably round winter squash, about 1/3 lb
1 tart apple, peeled and sliced
1/4 cup rolled oats
2 tablespoons unsalted butter
2 tablespoons brown sugar
pinch of cinnamon
1/4 tsp grated fresh ginger
pinch of salt

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Cut squashes in half lengthwise (to ensure more evenly-shaped halves). Scoop out the seeds and scrape away any stringy pieces with a spoon. Place the halves cut side-down on a baking sheet and roast for approximately 20-30 minutes, until the flesh gives a bit when you press down on its top. Remove from oven and flip each half over.

Combine the apples with 1 tablespoon of the brown sugar, cinnamon, and ginger. Divide into the two partially-roasted squash halves. In a separate bowl, combine the oats, salt and remaining brown sugar (and an extra pinch of cinnamon if you like). Melt the butter until just liquified (without letting it burn), and pour it into the oat mixture while stirring. Stir a few more times to incorporate the butter. Divide amongst the two squash halves and pat on top of the apple fillings. Bake for another 30 minutes, or until oat mixture is golden-brown. Serve after letting sit 5-10 minutes.

Cost Calculator
(for 2 servings)

1 small squash (at $1/lb): $0.35
1 apple (at $1.80/lb): $0.50
1/4 cup rolled oats: $0.20
2 tablespoons butter: $0.40
2 tablespoons brown sugar: $0.30
pinch of cinnamon, 1/4 tsp grated ginger, pinch of salt: $0.20

Total: $1.95

Health Factor

Five brownie points: Yes, a great alternative to a buttery, baked pie crust is a high-in-Vitamin A, high-in-antioxidants, all-natural squash. It’s sweet, but much lower in fat and cholesterol. If you must, add a dollop of ice cream or whipped cream on top of this dessert for some of that. But as is, it’s a great way to get some nutrition with your dessert.

Green Factor

Eight maple leaves: This dish can be made all fall and winter long, since both winter squashes and apples have such a long shelf life. So do oats, brown sugar, and just about every other small ingredient in this recipe. In total, it’s a very low-footprint dish, and when you use heirloom squashes, you’re helping promote biodiversity by keeping these varieties alive.

I’ve had this recipe raring to go in my head for a while, as I waited for some sleepy Sunday to try it out. The matcha blended in perfectly with an otherwise ordinary pancake batter (made from 1 egg, 1 cup of flour and milk each, and 1 teaspoon each of sugar and baking powder, an easy-to-remember standby). It’s wise to combine it with the dry ingredients rather than the wet ones first, so as to mix in better. I’ve taken several shots at green tea flavored desserts before where this was not always done, and deep, seaweed-green lumps prevailed.

matcha mixes with flour

We all know that green tea is a great source of antioxidants. But when drinking matcha, or eating it as a baked good, you actually ingest the whole tea leaves, instead of just water steeped in them. Therefore, you take in about three times the nutritional benefits of regular brewed green tea. This includes the amino acid L-theanine, which is known to reduce stress and depression, as well as antioxidants to combat free radicals in your system. Also, matcha has a delightfully grassy, slightly bitter flavor that pairs well with sweetness. I added some more sugar to this pancake batter just to balance it out.

batter up!

It didn’t seem quite appropriate to go with the usual suspects to top these pancakes with — maple syrup, maybe some berries or sliced bananas. A seriously strange-looking stack of pancakes demanded a fittingly offbeat garnish, and something creamy and white seemed about right for some contrast. So I poured a vanilla Ronnybrook yogurt drink over my stack, instead of syrup. And although they’re never in season in New York, but from across the world in New Zealand, the bright green kiwi fruit beckoned as a matchy-matchy topping for the matcha.

So there it was: green pancakes, and sorry, no ham. Happy as a clam I am.

Green Tea Pancakes
(makes 4-6)

1 cup all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
2 grams (about 1/2 tsp) matcha powder
2 teaspoons sugar
1 egg
1 cup milk
butter for the pan

Combine the flour, baking powder, and matcha in a bowl. In a separate mixing bowl, whisk the egg with the sugar and whisk in the milk. Slowly whisk in the dry ingredients and continue to mix until there are no lumps.

Heat a griddle or fry pan over medium-high. Add a small amount of butter and spread it around the pan. Scoop a ladle of batter onto the pan and let cook on one side about 1-2 minutes, or until bubbles start to form. Flip and cook on opposite until golden-brown on both sides. Transfer to a serving plate and continue procedure with the rest of the batter.

Suggested toppings: vanilla yogurt drink (or kefir) and sliced kiwifruit.

Cost Calculator
(for about 2 servings)

1 cup flour: $0.30
1 egg: $0.30
1 cup milk: $0.45
2 oz. packet matcha: $1.00
1 tsp baking powder, 2 tsp sugar: $0.25

Total: $2.30

Health Factor

Four brownie points: If you’re looking to wake up with a little boost, here’s one way. It’s not the only way to cram antioxidants into your early-morning diet — a pile of cooked greens could fulfill — but it’s certainly a change of pace for that chore. They say that green tea also helps you focus, and it does contain caffeine, too, so this might be like getting your cup of coffee (or tea) in solid form, too.

Green Factor

Four maple leaves: Do I get points for this being green-colored, at least? Sigh. The best matcha powder you can find is invariably imported from Japan, and I wouldn’t recommend trying to crush up your favorite green tea into a fine dust yourself, by the way. That said, the rest of the pancake batter is pretty sustainably sourced and easy to keep on hand all year: local eggs, milk and flour.

There are fewer ingredients in this flavor, too, than one might expect. On a hunch, the peels of four lemons were shaved off the fruits and left to steep in the milk and cream mixture after bringing it to a “scald.” Rather than grating zest off into little specks, the big slabs of peel would be easier to strain the milk mixture from afterwards, for a smooth-textured cream. The resulting flavor was surprisingly strong, like a lemon drop but without any tang.

Poppy seeds have always confused me, a little. They don’t add any flavor, and they get stuck in between the teeth. But, they add a delightful crunch to bagels and now, ice cream, as it were. Fair enough.

This recipe follows that of most ice cream recipes on this site — two parts heavy cream, one part whole milk, and five egg yolks for the custard base. It’ll make a tidy one quart, which is convenient as that’s the maximum capacity of my ice cream maker (the Cuisinart ICE-50, a $50 investment FYI for all those without a machine). It’s far from the top of the line, as you have to freeze the interior bowl of the machine overnight to keep it cold enough throughout one quart’s churn, and if you try to churn another batch right afterward, don’t be surprised if it’s not cold enough to hold out. But it works well for the hobbyist, single-person household ice cream maker, like me.

I thought a drop of lemon extract or something else might have needed to be employed at some point to enforce the ice cream’s flavor, but the zest from four lemons did its job well. Make sure not to add lemon juice to the hot milk mixture, whatever you do, as the acid will react with the dairy and curdle your cream.

Lemon Poppy Gelato
(makes 1 quart)

2 cups heavy cream
1 cup whole milk
zest of four lemons, peeled off with a vegetable peeler in strips
3/4 cup sugar
5 egg yolks
about 1 tablespoon poppy seeds

In a small bowl, beat the egg yolks with the sugar until fluffy and the lighter in color. Set aside.

Combine the milk, cream and lemon zest in a medium saucepan and heat over medium-high until just about to boil, or “scald.” (Do not let boil.) Turn off heat, cover and let sit for about 15 minutes. Strain lemon zest.

While beating the egg yolk mixture, pour in a small spoonful of the hot milk mixture and continue to beat. Repeat process with a larger spoonful, while beating, then repeat again, and again. (This will temper the eggs, so that they don’t cook lumpy.) Next, scoop all the egg yolk mixture into the hot milk mixture. Return heat to medium-low. Cook about 8-10 minutes longer, stirring frequently with a spatula to scrape all corners of the bottom of the pot. Do not let boil. The custard should be just thick enough to coat the back of a spoon, but have no lumps.

Let custard cool completely. Transfer to an airtight container and completely chill in the refrigerator at least 2 hours. Follow your machine’s instructions for churning length. Add the poppy seeds directly into the mixture during the second half of the churn. Transfer ice cream to an airtight container and freeze for 2 hours to “ripen.”

Cost Calculator
(for 1 quart, or about 8 servings)

1 pint organic heavy cream: $3.99
1 cup organic whole milk: $0.50
5 egg yolks (from Tello’s farm), at $4/dozen: $0.84 (considering you can keep the egg whites for another use)
3/4 cup sugar: $0.20
zest of four lemons: $0.25 (considering you can use the lemon juice for something else, too)
1 tablespoon poppy seeds (from a small jar from Fairway for $2.50): $0.35

Total: $6.13

Health Factor

Eight brownie points: It’s an eggy, rich ice cream, and there’s not much you can do about that — except to enjoy it in moderation. This decadent frozen dessert is a treat, but you can take comfort in the fact that it’s not chock full of preservatives or chemical additives when you make it yourself from six ingredients. Especially when those ingredients are thoughtfully sourced.

Green Factor

Six brownie points: Anything with lemon in it is not going to be local or seasonal if you live in the Northeast. But using the lemon peel as well as its juice is a thoughtful way to make those extra miles it traveled more worth its while. The eggs and dairy in this recipe can be sourced from your favorite, responsible farms at any time of the year, however, no matter where you live.

While other, flashier citrus from the south migrates onto menus this wintry season — like Meyer lemons and blood oranges — I thought I’d play around with a plain old navel orange for this simple cake. So sweet and sizable, you’ll only need one of these baseball-sized fruit to zest and squeeze for a distinct tropical note. Fresh rosemary, not dried, gave it some more seasonal appeal and I just love adding the evergreen to sweets.

a navel orange gets skinned

rosemary

So my path was set: making this cake for a friend’s birthday. I don’t typically keep mounds of cookware and baking supplies, so when I found myself with a new bundt pan given by a friend, it stayed in the cupboard for several months. But birthdays are special, and the perfect occasion to give it a test-run, as well as this cake flavor idea.

a coat of butter and sugar is a must for the pan

baked to golden

I drew from various bundt cake recipes of the most basic kind in order to come up with this formula. But when it was all said and done, fresh out of the oven, I realized that a few traditional flairs were missing: to glaze the cake, or not to glaze? How about sprinkle with powdered sugar? A rich frosting seemed like it would soften the shell-like crust that I found so pleasing, achieved by preparing the bundt pan with a smear of butter and sprinkling sugar throughout. This was also key to getting the cake to slide out of the pan, a highly functional move. Don’t skip it, lest your cake stay in there forever.

with optional garnish

I eventually dusted powdered sugar across the top of the cake, which looked like snow, then stuck a spare rosemary sprig in it for more foresty appeal. Maybe candied orange slices would have worked nice layered on top if I’d had the time. Well, didn’t matter. This cake looked impressive enough straight from the oven, and it was quickly consumed in any case. And come to think of it, compared to cupcakes, or layer cakes, making it was pretty quick, too. Who knew bundt pans were so useful? You’ve heard it from a convert: Danke she.

Orange Rosemary Bundt Cake
(makes one 8″ ring-shaped bundt cake)

1 stick unsalted butter, softened
1 cup sugar
1/2 tsp vanilla
3 eggs
zest of 1 orange
1/2 cup juice from same orange
3 cups all-purpose or cake flour
4 tsp baking powder
1/2 cup milk
2 tablespoons chopped fresh rosemary
extra butter and sugar to coat pan

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. In a large bowl, cream the butter, sugar and vanilla. Beat in the eggs, orange zest and juice. Sift flour and combine with the baking powder. Gradually stir in dry ingredients to the batter, alternating with the milk. Stir in the rosemary.

Smear butter all over the inside of a 8″ bundt pan. Sprinkle sugar on the interior and tilt until the entire surface is evenly coated. Fill the pan with the batter and bake for about 35 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let cool a few minutes, and invert onto a plate.

Cost Calculator
(for 8-10 servings)

1 stick butter (at $7/lb): $1.75
1 cup sugar: $0.40
3 eggs: $0.75
1/2 tsp vanilla: $0.20
1 orange: $0.60
1/2 cup milk: $0.50
3 cups flour: $1.80
4 tsp baking powder: $0.30
2 tablespoons rosemary (from houseplant): $1.00

Total: $6.30

Health Factor

Seven brownie points: There’s no denying a dessert at times, but when you do indulge, best to keep it to known, and preferably few ingredients. I was amazed by all the strange, processed ingredients I found in cake recipes when searching online, from pudding packets to soda or cake mixes, which I thought were supposed to do the job alone. It’s simple: cakes are butter, sugar, eggs, flour and milk, plus whatever else you may do to them. Why not keep them fresh and natural, too, with some fresh herbs and citrus? Both additions add hints of essential nutrients, along with flavor.

Green Factor

Four maple leaves: Citrus fruits are such a gift from the south, and I don’t think there’s any locavore chef in town who can live without lemons. So while giving into its charms, this recipe’s ingredients can otherwise be found easily year round, like the homegrown rosemary, and eggs, butter and dairy from local farms.

I love Asian ice cream, milkshake and flavored tea flavors, but so often they’re sad, powdered relics of the real stuff. The pale green “honeydew” makes me miss the juicy, floral freshness of the real fruit, slushed up, that I’d get in Taiwan. Bright lilac “taro” flavor just plain is not. Although I may never have enough sun to grow fresh, tropical fruit and coconuts here, one flavor I don’t see the need to place in artificial form, anywhere, is that of red bean. You can pick up a bag for ninety nine cents at the corner store.

I treated red beans like strawberries in this recipe, and instead of making a smooth custard with red bean powdered extract to mix in, I cooked some red beans in brown sugar to add at the end. Ice cream texture is a stylistic preference; some prefer a perfectly silken mouthfeel, others enjoy bits. Some black sesame flavored ice cream that has little seeds throughout, others are infused with its flavor but strained free. I went with the bits, and with red beans, the mealy, mushy, sweet bean-tasting beans were not such a tremendous change in texture from the rest of the ice cream.

dried red beans

cooked to mush with brown sugar

This dessert capped off a lovely stint as guest chef at Ted & Amy’s Supper Club, two nights ago. The theme of the menu was Chinese — or half-Chinese, like me. And because I couldn’t get enough of dumpling-making over Chinese New Year, we had potstickers for the first course, served over a bed of baby greens. It was all drizzled with a soy sauce-rice vinegar-sesame oil solution that might seem like woefully rudimentary alchemy from the Asian ingredient cabinet, but is simply perfect in this scenario. Second course of the night was a Sichuan-style salad of thinly sliced celery, red chili oil, scallions and Sichuan peppercorns on top. It was my “risky” dish since I wasn’t sure if everyone would like, but incredibly, it’s the one I got the most compliments on. It pays to take risks.

Our main course was a reddish strip of soy sauce-braised pork belly, over root vegetables that had been braised and roasted with all its liquids. It was hearty. What better way to follow an infusion of hot grease like that than with a scoop of rich, custardy ice cream? So American, I thought.

folding in the beans with the custard

So this was our dessert, and it’s a flavor I’ll gladly eat anytime. It’s a mellow flavor, and it really helps to buy the absolute best-tasting cream and milk you can find, because you’re going to taste it (and you will want to if so). I added a stray hunk of ginger root to the cream mixture to infuse, instead of vanilla bean, and used brown sugar instead of white. You’ll taste a slight peppery tang from the ginger, but not to overpower the earthy essence of the red bean. For those of us who have only tasted small red beans in a savory dish instead of sweet, welcome to Asian desserts. Hen hao hong dou! (“Very good red bean!”)

Red Bean Ice Cream
(makes 1 quart)

2 cups heavy cream
1 cup milk
4 egg yolks
2/3 cup brown sugar plus 1/4 cup (for the beans)
1/2 cup small red beans, soaked overnight
1-inch piece ginger, cut to slices
1/4 tsp vanilla

Beat yolks with the 2/3 sugar and vanilla until lighter in color and fluffy. Meanwhile, heat milk and cream in a medium pot with the ginger slices. “Scald” by bringing just about to boil, but do not let boil; turn off heat. While whisking egg mixture rapidly, pour in a tablespoon of the milk mixture. Repeat. Drizzle a little more of the milk mixture, about one cup, still whisking. Transfer all the egg mixture into the pot of the milk mixture and return to medium heat. Stir frequently about 6-8 minutes until mixture is thick enough to coat the back of a spoon. Do not let boil. Let cool and remove ginger slices. Chill in an airtight container at least 4 hours or overnight.

Meanwhile, cover the soaked beans in an inch of water and let simmer uncovered. Stir occasionally for about 1 hour, or until beans are very soft. Add the 1/4 cup sugar and if necessary, more water to soak. Continue simmering until water has all been absorbed. Mash some of the beans with the side of a spoon or spatula against the pot. Let cool completely and chill at least 1 hour or overnight.

Combine the custard mixture with the beans. Transfer to an ice cream maker and follow machine’s instructions for churning into ice cream. Cover in an airtight container and keep in the freezer.

Cost Calculator
(for 1 quart)

2 cups heavy cream (Organic Valley): $3.89
1 cup whole milk (Ronnybrook): $1.25
2/3 and 1/4 cup brown sugar: $0.75
4 egg yolks: $1.00
2/3 cup red beans: $0.30
1 inch piece ginger, 1/4 tsp vanilla: $0.25

Total: $7.44

Health Factor

Eight brownie points: It’s rich, it’s custardy, it’s… ice cream. But unlike a lot of ice cream you might find in a store, it has no funny chemicals, preservatives or food additives — just cream, milk, sugar, eggs and red beans, essentially. You could do a lot worse, but this concoction is meant to be enjoyed in moderation. And actually, since there’s beans, you’ll have some protein and fiber with dessert, too.

Green Factor

Seven brownie points: Have I mentioned that my hens began laying eggs again this spring? They’re cheerfully churning out gorgeous, rich egg after another for the first time since taking a break for the winter in November. So the yolks were from them (I used the whites for an omelet), milk was from Ronnybrook, the “Creamline” kind with thick fat at the top, heavy cream from Organic Valley, a dependable organic brand, and beans from Cayuga Organics. Any small, dried red bean from the dry goods section should do, for low impact, too.

When a purchased food becomes such a habit that I can’t fathom a day without this item, it’s usually when I decide to make something like it at home. This winter, it’s been cookies… boxes, and boxes of cookies. All kinds of cookies. Chewy, grainy, nutty ones; flat, crispy sugary ones. It’s an awful way to start off the new year, I suppose.

I don’t know if this is victorious or rather quite submissive of me, then, to concoct a cookie that serves my purpose much better than any store-bought ones. But, I did. It combines my favorite things about all those cookies that I’d binged on, together in one ultimate batch: rolled oats for chewy bits of texture, dark chocolate shards, and lip-smacking peanut butter.

whole rolled oats

small piece of a big bar from Mast Bros. Chocolate

freshly-ground peanut butter from the machine at Fairway Market

Then, since I didn’t think it could do any more harm, I used only whole wheat flour. I suppose I thought this might also soften the blow (what matters when there’s a tablespoon of butter or peanut butter per portion?), or add more reason for making my own cookies instead of buying the same. But I can’t tell any difference in terms of how the cookies baked using all whole wheat flour versus all-purpose (as opposed to bread), and actually, think it gave the cookies a deeper nutty flavor.

whole wheat flour is gradually added

dough is patted into fat discs

Plus, the heaps of empty cardboard and plastic cookie boxes was really getting to me, and this way, I only came away with a grease-blotted paper towel as waste. Another reason, and reason enough.

Peanut Butter Choc-Oat Cookies with Whole Wheat
(makes about 15 large cookies)

1/2 cup butter (1 stick)
1/2 cup natural peanut butter (preferably no salt, no sugar, just “peanuts” for ingredients)
3/4 cup sugar
1 egg
1/2 tsp vanilla
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 tsp baking powder
1 1/4 cups whole wheat flour
3/4 cup rolled oats
about 6 oz. dark chocolate, broken or chopped to chunks

Let butter and egg soften at room temperature. Preheat oven to 375 degrees. Cream the butter, sugar, peanut butter and vanilla. Whisk in the egg. Gradually add the flour, salt and baking powder.

Fold in the oats and chocolate chunks. Form into about 15 (give or take) patties using the cups of your palms, and space about 1 inch apart on an ungreased cookie sheet. Bake for about 12 minutes, or until bottoms are lightly browned and small cracks have formed across the tops. Let cool.

Cost Calculator
(for 15 cookies)

1 stick butter: $1.25
1/2 cup peanut butter: $1.00
1 egg: $0.25
3/4 cup sugar: $0.25
1 1/4 cups whole wheat flour: $0.50
3/4 cup rolled oats: $0.50
6 oz. dark chocolate: $4.00
salt, baking powder, vanilla: $0.40

Total: $8.15

Health Factor

Eight brownie points: So I tried, vaguely, to give these cookies more nutritional value than your average sweet treat. There’s peanut butter and whole rolled oats for flavor, fiber and protein, and whole wheat flour instead of white. These whole grains do more than provide extra nutrition, but have a lower glycemic index than refined grains, which means the carbohydrates will break down in your system more gradually, and won’t give you a sugar rush followed by a crash of energy. But while these cookies may not be “empty” calories, they still have a lot of calories. So beware.

Green Factor

Five maple leaves: The main ingredients in these by weight are butter, and peanut butter. The types of each that you choose can have a great effect on the outcome of your cookies, but also on your health and that of the environment. Choose butter from hormone-treated, non-organic cow’s milk, and you’re supporting a system that doesn’t serve your health or the animals’ as well. Peanut butter can be filled with (totally unnecessary) chemical additives and seasonings, which is easily avoided after you try a taste of all-natural, just-peanuts butter, and see how much better it is.

Holidays are all about traditions — making them, keeping them. I’ve got a tradition in the works of coming up with seasonal ice cream flavors. I don’t necessarily think this hobby needs a holiday attached to it, but it is a good excuse to make lots of ice cream. Previous holiday seasons have been responsible for creating some of my favorites, like chai, orange spice, cranberry, peppermint, chocolate and five-star anise, and curry-carrot-coconut ice cream. If I could capture the essence of an elf in ice cream form, I’d do it. And actually, I wonder if it wouldn’t be so far off from this zingy, ticklish ginger flavor.

a knobby piece of ginger root

With this flavor, I was going for the taste of gingerbread, without actual gingerbread cookies or dough in the cream. So I added molasses to the ice cream base, and a pinch of warm, wintery spices along with ginger. These included cinnamon, vanilla and a few cardamom pods, which got steeped in with the cream and milk. Fresh grated ginger was tossed in and later strained out, too, and ground or dry ginger powder was sprinkled in afterward to taste. I wanted this to be extra spicy with ginger, so I kept adding more of this even into the last step, as the ice cream churned.

egg yolks are smothered with sugar

and beaten with a drizzle of molasses

My favorite part about the flavor may be the candied ginger strips. These are a fun snack besides, and could garnish any ice cream or dessert for serving, too. They’re simple to make, and last good while once you do. I’m sure there are many ways to make a similar outcome, but I boil my slices of fresh ginger in simple syrup until they’re translucent and the syrup has all cooked off but for a clear glaze. Then I let the ginger slices cool off and dry. These can be rolled in sugar at this stage, to keep them from sticking to your hands when you pick them up. But I just tossed them into the ice cream as it churned, to create chewy chunks.

candied ginger

Finally, I owe the inspiration to this flavor not to elves, but the folks at Ronnybrook dairy, whose “Ginger Creme Brulee” ice cream really made my day a few nights ago. So funny: I spent a few days in a sleepy town Upstate, trying to “get away from it all,” and the first batch of groceries I bring back from a local shop include granola from Bread Alone bakery, and a pint of Ronnybrook ice cream. These are just the things I would get if I were in NYC. I guess that says a lot for the Greenmarket bringing a taste of the country to the city. Or, that I’d unwittingly stumbled upon the home turf of two of my favorite specialty foods, and was all too eager to grab at a familiar sight, like a toddler to a favorite blanky. In any case, their Ginger Creme Brulee flavor was a revelation — a spicy ginger base, with a caramel swirl and tiny pieces of candied ginger. I was sorry to get only half the pint to myself.

Ginger Ice Cream with Candied Ginger Strips
(makes about 1 pint)

2 cups heavy cream
1 cup whole milk
5 egg yolks
2/3 cup sugar
1/4 cup molasses
2 tablespoons grated fresh ginger
2-5 tsp ground ginger (add to taste)
1/4 tsp cinnamon (or a cinnamon stick to steep)
3-5 cardamom pods (optional)
1/4 tsp vanilla (or a vanilla bean to steep)
for the candied ginger strips:
about 1″ piece of ginger, peeled and thinly sliced to 10-15 rounds
1/2 cup water
1/2 cup sugar

To make the candied ginger, boil the water and sugar in a small pot until just dissolved, and add the ginger slices. Make sure they’re fully submerged in the water; if not, add a little more water until covered. Bring to a boil and reduce heat to a simmer. Let cook for about 30 minutes, or until slices are transparent and liquid has almost all cooked off to a thick syrup coating the slices. Let the ginger slices dry out laid flat and separate from one another. Roll in sugar if desired.

Make the ice cream: Beat the egg yolks and sugar until lighter in color and fluffy, at least 2 minutes. Add the molasses and vanilla. Meanwhile, heat the milk, cream and cardamom pods, cinnamon stick and vanilla bean, if using, in a medium saucepan. “Scald” mixture by bringing just to a boiling temperature, but remove from heat before it begins to boil. While whisking the egg and sugar mixture well, ladle in a small amount of the hot milk mixture to the eggs. Keep whisking and add another ladleful and another. Return milk mixture to medium heat and stir in the rest of the egg mixture to the saucepan. Keep cooking the mixture, stirring constantly, for 8-10 minutes or until just thick enough to coat the back of a spoon (do not let boil!). Remove any cardamom pods, vanilla bean or cinnamon stick. Place in an airtight container and chill at least 6 hours or overnight.

Follow your ice cream maker for directions on churning the custard into ice cream, and drop in the candied ginger pieces toward the end of churning.