Cactus-Pear & Cherry Sorbet . . .

Just last week, I made the personal acquaintance of a cactus pear. Actually, several of them. They were purplish, slightly soft, and a wee bit spiky. I had no choice but to get to know these cactus pears, because they were one component (out of seven different components) that I was forced to confront as part of the "practical final" in my most recently concluded pastry arts class, Plated Desserts II. This final, which I'd been dreading for weeks if not years (undoubtedly since I first heard about it shortly after starting culinary school, ages ago, and witnessed the terror it invariably invoked in the advanced pastry students), required me and my classmates to create a visually striking and tasty dessert within just a couple of hours from start to finish. Not so difficult, you say? Well, consider the fact that a bona fide plated dessert--composed of various textures, temperatures, colors, and flavor types--typically consists of several individual recipes, and the need to combine all the mysterious ingredients into one coherent and comely dessert in that period of time is actually a rather tall order.

The other six ingredients we had to make use of besides cactus pears were unblanched brazil nuts, unpopped popcorn, quinces, cardamom pods, brick dough (also known as feuilles de brick, this is kind of like a tougher and more transparent version of phyllo dough), and coconut sugar.

The fact that I completely forgot to photograph my dessert, once finished, helps illustrate how frazzled I must have been by the time I presented my finished plate to my teacher, a fellow we'll simply refer to here as Chef R. It was not what my husband would describe as "a triumph"--a phrase he often likes to use in reference to especially well-prepared and delicious food. No, it was a partial success and that's all it was. The part of it that was a complete success, was the sorbet portion. That sorbet, which was somewhat similar to today's recipe, was brilliantly pink and made a dramatic impression on the plate. It was zesty, sweet, and tart. It was positively psychedelic.

There was also a cactus pear sauce, equally vivid, neatly dabbed onto the plate like a tiny path, that served as a dividing line between the dessert's two main components. To the left was a perfectly egg-shaped scoop of sorbet (also known as a quenelle), with a delicate golden tuile balanced on top. The sorbet sat on a circle of crumbly streusel that I'd made from a ground combo of toasted brazil-nut brittle and popped, salted popcorn. That sorbet and tuile construction was parked near my attempt at a warm, spicy, stewed quince concoction enclosed within a crisp, baked, brick-dough basket. A cute basket, no doubt, but with sticky, sugary contents that were barely edible. Really. I joke you not. Something went terribly wrong with my stewed quince. The whole thing became gritty and grainy and wasn't at all becoming. And the cardamom in there seemed overwhelming . . . too much cardamom. As I brought my plated creation up to Chef R. at the appointed hour so he could render judgement, I knew I was a girl with a problem.

Chef R. was not impressed with the right side of the plate. Alas.

But, he did say he really liked the sorbet and thought the whole concept, at least in terms of looks, was attractive and appealing. Overall, it could have been worse. I suppose I was just glad all those weeks/months/years of anxious anticipation were over. I'd completed Plated Desserts II and, really, that was reward enough.

It was a tiny consolation, to be honest, that the other members of the class seemed to have a less than complete triumph as well. We all felt, though, that we tried the best we could given the limitations we were forced to work with. And Chef R. was only encouraging in his closing comments to us, as we gathered up our belongings and prepared to offer our fatigued goodbyes. Before we left the room he urged us to keep taking baking/pastry classes even after we complete the formal requirements of the program (I have one more class to go). Because, after all, there is always more to learn. Indeed.

Cactus-Pear and Cherry Sorbet

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

4 very ripe cactus pears
1 pound sweet cherries
12 ounces simple syrup, cooled
1 to 2 tablespoons fresh lime juice
2 teaspoons cherry (or other fruit-flavored) liqueur (I used Heering cherry liqueur; you could use Kirschwasser, or Chambord, or even Limoncello would probably be good.)

Cut the cactus pears in half, lengthwise, and scoop out the pulp with a large spoon. (Be careful; the outside of a cactus pear may have tiny spines left on it that you can't really see.) 

Pit the cherries and cut them in half.

Put the pulp and the cherry pieces into a deep straight-sided container and blend them with an immersion blender until no large chunks remain. Strain the mixture into a medium size bowl. Rinse out the deep straight-sided container. Pour the mixture back into it, along with all of the simple syrup.

Blend the mixture again until all lumps are gone and it looks smooth. Strain the mixture again into a bowl, this time with a fine mesh strainer. You're trying to catch any seeds from the cactus pears; they are very hard and black.

Stir the smaller amount of lime juice, along with the liqueur, into the strained sorbet mix. Taste the mix, and add more lime juice if you prefer. Don't add more liqueur; too much alcohol will make it difficult for the sorbet to firm up in the freezer.

Chill the sorbet mix until extremely cold and churn it in your ice cream freezer according to the manufacturer's directions.

Put the churned sorbet into a chilled container that can be tightly covered and freeze it for at least several hours. I froze mine for over a day before serving it; it needs time to get really firm, and for the flavors to ripen.

Serve in small portions. Nice as a very light dessert, or as a palate cleanser between courses.

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Choffee Chip Chunk Ice Cream . . . (Coffee Ice Cream with Chunks of Milk Chocolate Chip Cookies)

Let's have a show of hands. Of all you folks out there, who among you likes ice cream, likes coffee, and also likes chocolate chip cookies? Please keep 'em up while I count . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . um . . . . . . . . . . okay . . . still counting . . . . . . still counting . . . whew . . . lots of hands . . .

Just as I thought. You can put your hands down. I'm gonna go ahead and round the total up to about a zillion people or we'll be here all day. Clearly, the vast majority of us are of the same mind on this issue. After all, what's not to like?

About this recipe . . .

If you are a fan of that flavor trio, you'll love this. Adapted from the formula for Black Coffee Ice Cream in Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams at Home, a compact book by Jeni Britton Bauer (that I first mentioned to you in this post, on vanilla mascarpone ice cream with roasted cherries, several weeks ago), this is another recipe that's too good to ignore. Expect an absolute premium result, and prepare to experience superb creaminess.

As for the cookie chunks, I recommend using this fail-safe chocolate chip cookie recipe, using all milk chocolate chips/chunks instead of an assortment of chocolate. I suggest baking the cookies slightly longer than normal, so they'll be crispier and will easily break into small pieces. You'll need about eight, thin 3" cookies to add into the ice cream. This is an excellent chocolate chip cookie recipe for any purpose, and one that I've made dozens of times over the years. (My kids are crazy-cuckoo-nuts for these cookies.)

So, love coffee? Love ice cream? Love chocolate chip cookies? Yes? Then it's settled. You've got to try this. That's all there is to it.

Choffee Chip Chunk Ice Cream (Coffee Ice Cream 
with Milk Chocolate Chip Cookie Chunks)

(For a printable copy of this recipe, click here!)

Yield: Slightly less than one quart

2 and 1/2 cups whole milk (I didn't have whole milk, so I used 2 cups 2 percent milk, and 1/2 cup half & half instead.)
1 tablespoon and 2 teaspoons cornstarch
3 tablespoons (1.5 ounces) cream cheese, softened (I used Philadelphia brand.)
1/8 teaspoon fine sea salt
1 and 1/2 cups heavy cream
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3 tablespoons light corn syrup
1/4 cup of coffee beans, ground coarsely (I used French roast beans.)
About 8 thin and crispy milk-chocolate chip cookies, approximately 3" in diameter,
       broken into small pieces and frozen

In a very small bowl, stir together two tablespoons of milk with all of the cornstarch until smooth (this is the "slurry").

In a medium bowl, stir together the cream cheese and the salt. Set aside.

Fit a piece of cheesecloth into a strainer and place that atop a medium size bowl (this will be used to strain the coffee-bean particles out of the still-in-process hot liquid). Set aside.

Fill a large bowl about halfway with ice cubes and cold water. Set aside. Place a large, clean Ziploc bag, opened and ready, near the bowl (you'll pour the finished hot liquid into it, then place the closed bag into the ice water to cool).

In a large saucepan, combine the rest of the milk, the heavy cream, sugar, and corn syrup. Over medium high heat bring the mixture to a steady low boil. Boil for four minutes. Take the pan off the burner and pour in the ground coffee beans. Let it steep for five minutes. Pour the liquid through the cheesecloth-lined strainer into the medium bowl. Squeeze as much liquid as you can out of the beans, wrapped in the cheesecloth, then discard the beans and cloth.

Pour the liquid back into the saucepan and whisk the cornstarch in slowly. Return the liquid to a boil over medium high heat and cook just until it's slightly thickened, stirring constantly and scraping the bottom and sides with a heat-proof spatula. Take the pan off the heat.

Slowly pour the hot liquid into the bowl with the cream cheese and salt, whisking as you do so until it looks quite smooth.

Pour all of this into the Ziploc bag, zip it closed tightly, and place that into the bowl of ice water for about half an hour or until decidedly cold, adding more ice to the bowl as needed.

Remove your frozen cookie pieces from the freezer. Have the container into which you will put your churned ice cream close at hand. Following the manufacturer's directions for your own ice cream freezer, churn the ice cream until it thickens. (I use the ice cream attachment for my KitchenAid mixer and usually need to churn ice cream for about 20 minutes or longer.)

Quickly layer the churned ice cream into its container along with the broken cookie pieces; don't stir the cookies in, just sprinkle them over the ice cream more or less evenly, remembering to sprinkle some atop the last layer.

Seal your container well, and freeze your ice cream until very firm (I let it freeze for about 16 hours before trying it, but you don't have to wait that long!). Enjoy!

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Vanilla Mascarpone Ice Cream with Sweet Roasted Cherries . . .

"My advice to you is not to inquire why or whither, 

but just enjoy your ice cream while it's on your plate." 

                   -- Thornton Wilder

Solid advice, especially as it concerns homemade ice cream. Seems to me it melts faster than the store-bought stuff, so it's wise to take Wilder's suggestion. Luckily, this vanilla mascarpone ice cream is so darn good that eating it before it softens into a puddle won't be a problem for most folks.

Made with some of the most luscious ingredients known to man--heavy cream, mascarpone cheese, and slowly roasted sweet cherries--this may be one for the record books, it's that fantastic.

Adapted from Jeni Britton Bauer's Jeni's Splendid Ice Creams at Home, the latest ice cream volume to take up residence in my ever-expanding collection, this recipe is simple, as are most of her recipes. Three key elements make her standard method stand out from the crowd: she doesn't use eggs; she uses a smidgen of corn syrup; and, her ice creams are ready to eat far more quickly than the norm.

Until now, I've honestly never encountered an egg-free ice cream that has an undeniably wonderful texture. You probably know that the typical ice cream recipe requires the careful cooking, and then straining, of an eggy custard concoction. That's fine if you know how, for example, to make a decent pastry cream and you are well aware of the potential pitfalls, but it's far from a foolproof process for beginners. The likelihood of overcooking the custard and ending up with something akin to scrambled eggs is high. Yeah, there's nothing quite like the sensation of dumping a steaming saucepan full of expensive ingredients right down the sink after you've been diligently stirring it on the stove, non-stop, until your wrist seizes up. Luckily, it's been a while since I've had to face a pour-it-down-the-sink scenario, but I remember those days well. So, while you do have to cook the milk, cream, and sugar, etc., for Jeni's recipes, the chances of screwing up that step are happily diminished.

In the pantheon of ice cream cookbooks, I think this one is kind of a revelation. As I already mentioned, the recipes generally include a little bit of corn syrup, and though that may be a frowned-upon ingredient for those who require all-organic-everything in their gourmet ice creams, it sure helps to produce a seriously fine result. I think it's worth the trade-off.

I made a couple of minor changes to the original recipe by using mascarpone cheese instead of goat cheese (I love both, but I must confess that I love mascarpone more), and by using fresh sweet cherries instead of sour cherries. Also, I decided to add in a tiny bit of vanilla bean paste (the recipe did not call for any vanilla at all) and I think that rounded out the flavor nicely, still leaving the mascarpone aspect front and center. I also reworded the recipe to reflect exactly what I did.

Both of my kids, along with the hubby, told me they think this may be the best ice cream I've ever made. High praise, coming from them. That, however, is a testament to Jeni Britton Bauer's skill as an artisanal ice cream maker and recipe developer, without a doubt; I can't take the credit. I look forward to using this no-egg method many times in the future. It's a winner.

Vanilla Mascarpone Ice Cream with Sweet Roasted Cherries
(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

Yield: About 1 quart of ice cream.


To make the roasted cherries:
(This should be made ahead of time and can, if you like, be prepared days in advance and kept in the fridge until you need it.)

Preheat your oven to 400 degrees.

2 cups of pitted sweet cherries
2/3 cup granulated sugar
2 teaspoons cornstarch

Place the cherries in a medium size baking dish/pan (I used a 9"x13" glass dish). Whisk the sugar and cornstarch together in a little bowl and scatter that over the cherries. Toss them around until evenly coated. Roast the cherries in the oven, stirring them about every 15 minutes, until the juice looks thick and bubbly, about 35-40 minutes or so.

Strain most of the liquid off the roasted cherries and let them cool completely before using them in the ice cream. (If the cherries are large, you can cut them into chunks before or after roasting, if you prefer; that's what I ended up doing with mine.)

To make the ice cream:

2 cups whole milk
1 tablespoon plus one teaspoon cornstarch
1/2 cup mascarpone cheese
1 and 1/2 ounces cream cheese (3 tablespoons), room temperature
1/2 teaspoon vanilla bean paste (or vanilla extract)
1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
1 and 1/4 cups heavy cream
2/3 cups granulated sugar
1/4 cup light corn syrup

In a very small bowl, stir together 2 tablespoons of the milk with all of the cornstarch until smooth (this is the "slurry").

In a large bowl, with a fork, mix together the mascarpone, cream cheese, vanilla, and salt until smooth and well combined. Set aside.

Fill a large bowl about 3/4 of the way full with cold water and ice. Have a large, clean Ziploc bag ready and propped open near the bowl.

In a large saucepan, combine the rest of the milk, the heavy cream, the sugar, and the corn syrup. Over medium-high heat, bring the mixture to a rolling boil. Boil for 4 minutes. Take the pan off the burner and slowly whisk in the cornstarch slurry, whisking constantly. Return the pan to the burner and bring back to a boil, again over medium-high heat, now stirring continually with a rubber spatula. Cook until slightly thickened; this will take about 1 minute. Take the pan off the heat.

Pour the hot milk mixture slowly into the bowl with the mascarpone and cream cheese, whisking until it's quite smooth. Pour all of this into the Ziploc bag, seal it, and place it into the bowl of ice water. Leave the bag in there until the liquid in it feels pretty cold, at least half an hour. Add more ice to the bowl as needed.

Follow the directions for your own ice cream freezer, churning the ice cream until it's thick. (I use the ice cream attachment for my KitchenAid mixer and my ice cream took at least 20 minutes to thicken.)

 Get out your roasted cherries and a spoon. As you pack the thickened ice cream into one or two storage containers (I used two pint-size glass containers that have plastic fitted lids), spoon some of the cherries in frequently; don't stir/mix them in, simply layer them.

Cover the containers securely. Chill them in the coldest part of your freezer for at least 4 hours, until the ice cream is as firm as you'd like (I ended up letting mine chill overnight, but I did check it after only 4 hours and, relatively speaking, it was probably firm enough to serve).

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Chocolate Moosetracks Ice Cream with Mini Peanut Butter Cups . . . Heat Waves Have Their Benefits!

I have to believe that humans had a harder time enduring summer before the advent of ice cream. I mean, come on, how did those cavemen get along on the steamiest days with all that excess hair, no air conditioning, and--worse yet--no ice cream whatsoever?? It must have been hellish.

Yes, the present era may be heavily laden with its own problems, but historically speaking, I figure we're pretty darn lucky. For one thing, we have easy access to moose tracks. And I'm not talking about the kind of tracks imprinted in mud by a four-legged creature. No, I refer only to the endearingly frosty, alluringly creamy variety. The kind you can scoop up, press down into a brittle sugar cone, or plop generously into a big shiny bowl. I speak, my friends, of that singular ice cream that's swirled with fudgy streaks and dotted with mini peanut-butter cups.

It's one of womankind's favorite treats (and probably mankind's too). It's moose tracks ice cream, and it's a flavor concept that was, by the way, born and bred right here in Michigan. I guess it was only a matter of time before I had to take a stab at producing a homemade version.

Too much heaven, you say? Oh please. This is me you're talking to. We both know there's no such thing.

About this recipe . .

Everything valuable I know about making ice cream at home I owe to pastry chef David Lebovitz. I've probably already told you in the past that I never made really spectacular ice cream until he wandered along and published what I now view as nothing short of a seminal volume, The Perfect Scoop.  

Dear David, 

You've done civilization quite a service. 

Are you even remotely aware of that? Gosh, I hope so. 

Love, Jane.  

P.S.  I seriously think a copy of The Perfect Scoop should be placed in a time capsule at the North Pole, post haste. Just in case. 

I've lately been reading his memoir/cookbook, The Sweet Life in Paris, and in doing so have become ever more enamored of this down to earth, fun-loving pastry chef. He's got poetry in his soul, whimsy coming out of this ears, and by all accounts he's the kind of dedicated chef who tests and tests and retests again until he gets it right. What more can one ask?

Today's recipe is adapted from his formula for milk chocolate ice cream in The Perfect Scoop. I changed his base recipe very minimally, by deleting the 3/4 cup of cocoa nibs as well as the 2 tsp. of cognac. Instead, I used 2 tsp. of Kahlua (coffee flavored liqueur that goes fantastically well with chocolate), and I added a few swirls of homemade milk chocolate ganache into the just-churned ice cream before freezing it, along with a half cup or so of Trader Joe's mini PB chips (they're actually very good, not too sweet, and not waxy).  And, of course, I reworded the Lebovitz recipe to reflect exactly what I did 'cuz, well, that's just what I do.

Thus, I present you with my version of chocolate moosetracks . . . or as I imagine David Lebovitz might casually blurt out, in a cute French accent, "Voila le moose tracks du chocolat!"

(Oh, and before I forget, many thanks to Denali brand ice cream, for coming up with their original moose tracks flavor to begin with. You are a credit to our great mitten-shaped state!)

Milk-Chocolate Moose Tracks Ice Cream 
with Milk-Chocolate Ganache and Mini Peanut Butter Cups 

(For a printable version of this recipe, click here!)

8 oz. milk chocolate (with at least 30 percent cocoa solids), finely chopped (I used Trader Joe's brand milk chocolate; comes in a very big bar and has, I think, 33% cocoa solids. Not expensive, but nice  flavor. It's a good bargain to use for everyday baking, etc.) 

1 and 1/2 cups heavy cream
1 and 1/2 cups whole milk
3/4 cup granulated sugar (I use cane sugar when I make ice cream. Has better flavor, I feel, and they say it has fewer impurities than beet sugar.)
1 large pinch of salt (I used coarse kosher salt.)
4 large egg yolks
2 tsp. Kahlua (coffee flavored liqueur)
1/2 cup mini peanut butter cups (I used Trader Joe's brand for these, too. Yummy.)
1/2 cup milk-chocolate ganache, at room temperature (See separate recipe for ganache below.)

In a large metal bowl set atop a saucepan of simmering water, heat the chopped milk chocolate and the heavy cream. Stir gently, heating until the chocolate is completely melted. Remove the bowl from the saucepan, using care to get no water into the bowl. Set the bowl aside and place a clean mesh strainer close to it. 

Set up an ice bath by placing ice cubes and cold water in a large shallow bowl. This will be used to cool down your egg-based ice cream mixture before it goes in the fridge. Have the ice bath ready and waiting before you start the next steps.

In a medium size saucepan, warm up the whole milk, sugar, and salt. While they're warming, in a medium size bowl, whisk the egg yolks. Pour the warm milk mixture slowly into the yolks, whisking constantly. Then quickly scrape this mixture back into the saucepan with a flexible spatula.  Over medium heat, stir constantly, until it thickens and can coat the spatula or a wooden spoon. Be very careful not to over thicken this mixture. It should be very pourable; you don't want it to look like pudding at this point.


Pour the heated mixture quickly through the mesh sieve placed over the bowl of melted chocolate and cream. Urge it through with your spatula if needed. Stir to combine the two mixtures. Stir in the Kahlua. 

Place the combined ice cream mixture, in its bowl, atop the waiting ice bath, being careful not to let water get into the ice cream mixture. Stir the mixture now and then to help it cool. 

When it's at least room temperature, cover it with plastic wrap and refrigerate it for at least several hours or overnight. 


Make the milk chocolate ganache at least an hour or more before you plan to churn the ice cream in your ice cream maker. The ganache needs to be no cooler than room temperature so you can swirl it quickly and easily into your just-churned ice cream.


To make the milk chocolate ganache, and to finish making your ice cream: 


4 oz. milk chocolate, finely chopped (I used the same type of chocolate that I used for the ice cream mix.)
4 oz. heavy cream


Place the chopped chocolate in a small bowl. Heat the cream slowly in a small saucepan. When it's hot but not boiling, pour it over the chocolate. Let it sit undisturbed for a few minutes, then gently stir it until all of the chocolate has dissolved and the ganache is smooth and silky. Let the ganache cool uncovered until it reaches room temperature.


When you're ready to churn your ice cream, have on hand the ganache and the mini peanut butter cups. Churn the ice cream mix according to your ice cream maker's directions. As soon as it's done churning, quickly spoon in dabs of the ganache, swirling it in as you go, and sprinkling in the peanut butter cups as evenly as you can manage. Freeze your churned ice cream overnight so it can fully ripen. (I prefer to keep my churned ice cream in a couple of pint-sized sturdy glass containers that have tight lids because it seems to freeze more evenly and quickly than when I do it in metal or plastic.)


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Blueberry Banana Sorbet & Whimsical Tuiles . . . (How to Make Your Own Tuile Stencils)

I am psyching up to begin another pastry class next week. This one, Pastry II, goes until the very end of June. So, besides readying my psyche, there are a number of other things I need to prepare in order to launch quickly from the house come 6:30 a.m. on Monday morning. The supplies alone can require a pack mule--notebook, binder, textbook, recipe packet, apron, neckerchief, chef's coat and pants, chef hat, digital scale, digital thermometer, and the rather awkward and weighty knife-filled case that is the unmistakable identifying mark of a culinary student in transit.

Yesterday, while sorting through my papers from last semester, I happened upon the recipe for tuile dough that I used as one small part of my "practical final" exam in my Plated Desserts I class this winter. I'd always intended to make tuiles at home and blog about them, and this seemed like a good time to finally do it.

In case you're not familiar with them, a basic tuile (pronounced tweel), which means "tile" in French, is a very thin, slightly sweet, rather bland cookie made from an exquisitely short list of  ingredients--typically just butter, powdered sugar, egg whites, and flour, though additional ingredients like sliced almonds are not uncommon. A tuile's most unique characteristic is the fact that it can be shaped/curled/molded by hand while it's still very hot.

Tuiles are not really something that one can mass produce in a short period of time at home, but that's hardly a concern. They allow for so much customizing and creative interpretation, they're worth the trouble. And, best of all, they're actually a lot of fun. Do they require some planning? Kind of. If you want to make them into particular shapes, then yes, definitely, because you'll need templates. Rubber or plastic templates specifically made for tuiles can be purchased, but they're pretty costly. The templates I used are my own; I made them using thin, soft, non-toxic craft foam from Michael's craft store. I cut the designs out of the foam with an exacto knife.

The sky's the limit in terms of shapes if you're making the templates yourself. The foam sheets are very inexpensive so it's no big deal if you make a few mistakes. And, if you just want to make plain round tuiles, you won't necessarily need to use templates at all.

Tuiles make perfect serving vehicles for other dessert items. Ice cream, sherbet, sorbet, and mousse all love nestling close to tuiles. They provide the perfect crunch factor and their lack of assertive flavor works to their advantage. Case in point: What might go well with a wacky item like blueberry banana sorbet? A thick chocolate cookie? Yuck. An overwhelmingly lemony cookie? Ehh, not so much. A lovely, crunchy, sweet-but-subtle tuile? YES!

About these recipes . . . 

I adapted this sorbet from pastry chef David Lebovitz's book The Perfect Scoop, including twice as much banana as the recipe called for, along with a bit more sugar and slightly more blueberries (yeah . . . I had to get rid of  those speckled bananas languishing on the counter . . . again). It's a simple, casual treat, and it's even fat free. The flavor combo seems a little off the wall, but if it's good enough for David Lebovitz, well, enough said. You could make this and have it chilling in your freezer inside of half an hour if you're quick on your feet. It's easier than heck--no fussing required.

The tuile recipe is from Professional Baking, by Wayne Gisslen. That was the textbook used for my Pastry I class last autumn, my Retail Baking class a year ago, and even for my Plated Desserts I class that ended a couple of months ago. It's a pretty thorough volume. Another remarkably easy formula, it's practically impossible to screw up. And, you can make the dough ahead of time because it has to chill for at least an hour before you spread it.

Blueberry Banana Sorbet and Tuiles
(For a printable version of these recipes, click here!)

Yield: One quart of sorbet and at least two dozen average size tuiles

Equipment for sorbet:
-- food processor or blender

-- ice cream maker, or ice cream maker attachment for your mixer
-- 1 quart container in which to chill finished sorbet

Equipment for tuiles:
Food scale to measure tuile ingredients
1 or 2 Silpats (silicone pan liners) or parchment paper
1 or 2 very flat cookie sheets
1 small offset spatula
scissors
flexible tuile templates


Ingredients for sorbet:
2 and 1/2 cups frozen wild Maine blueberries (They're little, very blue, and sweet; I buy them in large bags from Costco. Of course, if you have good fresh berries on hand, don't hesitate!) 
4 medium size very ripe bananas
1 and 1/4 cup granulated sugar
1 cup cold water
1 Tbsp. lemon juice 


In a food processor or blender, pulse together all of the ingredients until the blueberries look almost  pulverized and the mixture looks not-quite completely smooth. 

 

 
Then process the mixture according to the instructions for your ice cream maker. (I used the ice cream maker attachment for my KitchenAid mixer, mixing on low speed for almost 20 minutes. Then, I put the sorbet into a container and froze it for several hours before serving. It doesn't freeze rock hard, and it scoops nicely.)

Ingredients for the tuiles: 
2 and 1/2 oz. (5 and 1/3 Tbsp.) of unsweetened butter (An extra high-fat brand like Plugra is often recommended for tuiles.)
3 oz. cake flour or all purpose flour, sifted (one scant cup) 
3 oz. powdered sugar, sifted (about 3/4 cup)
2 and 1/2 oz. egg whites (approximately, the whites of two or three large eggs)


In the bowl of a mixer, cream together the butter and powdered sugar; start on low speed, then increase to medium as the sugar mixes in. Add in the egg whites and flour alternately, mixing until combined. The dough should be kind of thick, sticky, and stretchy.

Scoop all of the dough into a disposable pastry bag with an un-cut tip (not critical to have a pastry bag, but helpful to do it this way!) and refrigerate it for one hour or more. 

You'll trim the tip off the pastry bag right before you use the dough. 

If you'd like to make decorative little designs in the tuiles after the dough has been spread on the templates, separate out a couple tablespoons of the dough before it's chilled and mix a teaspoon or two of cocoa powder into it. 



Put this cocoa dough into a very small pastry bag, preferably one made of parchment paper (here's a site that shows how to make one of these; it's a foundation skill for cake decorators and pastry chefs!). It will need to have a tiny opening tip that you will trim with scissors right before you're ready to use the dough.


Once the dough has chilled sufficiently and you're getting ready to bake, preheat the oven to 325. 

Take a perfectly flat cookie sheet without sides (or use the back of a cookie sheet with sides), and place your Silpat or parchment sheet over it. This process is stress free if done on a Silpat type of pan liner, just fyi. If you're using parchment, it should be cut to fit the cookie sheet without overlapping the sides. 


Place your tuile template over the Silpat/parchment. Cut the tip off of the filled pastry bag, about an inch up from the point. Squeeze a plump line of dough onto each template shape you'll be using. 

With the offset spatula, carefully spread the dough smoothly into each cut-out. You may need to hold the template sheet in place with one hand if you're doing this on parchment. 

If you want to add decorative designs in the dough with the cocoa dough, do it now. Cut the tip of the parchment cone with the cocoa dough in it and create any designs you like, just squeezing a tiny line onto the plain dough.

When all the shapes you're using have been filled, gently lift the edge of the template and peel it off. 

Bake the tuiles for approximately 6-7 minutes,just until they begin to get lightly golden. They bake quickly and burn easily; keep a close eye on them. 

Using the offset spatula, carefully lift each piece, working with just one at a time, and mold it quickly with your hands or press it over a form (like a small, upside-down drinking glass) to make it into a bowl shape. It will be quite hot so use care. If a tuile cools into a shape you didn't intend, you can put it back in the oven to soften it and try again. The tuiles will start to harden within about 15 seconds, so you don't have any time to fool around once you start doing this. Store the finished tuiles away from moisture.

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