Pear

When we were first dating, we would stay up in bed for hours trying to come up with new interpretations of classic desserts. Bird chile and passion fruit pavlova; Stilton mousse with walnut Florentine; apple, currant, and Brie pot pie. But some classics we knew not to amp up with "bold flavors" because they were sacred. Such is the tarte bourdaloue. This was one of the first desserts Matt and I were both taught to make in our classical pastry training; it is the pride of any French patisserie worth its (artisinal) salt, and you will treat it with some goddamn respect! Traditionally, it's a buttery tart crust filled with poached pear and luxurious almond cream. However, no matter how mind blowing the tarte bourdaloue is, almost no one in this country knows what it is. French Matt Says: You uncultured American swine! So, in an effort to make this winning flavor combo a bit more popular this side of the pond, we broke tradition and messed with it a little to turn it into a cupcake¿I mean, what's more American than cupcakes? Besides bald eagles, of course, but then again, you can't eat those (yet)!

This hearty winter salad balances earthy greens with seasonal fruit and crunchy nuts. Though quite simple, it is far from ordinary.

This rich, subtly tangy cream spiked with almond essence gives ripe, sliced pears just the embellishment they need to go from fruit to fabulous.

September 7 marks the Feast of Saint Gratus of Aosta, the patron saint of the fear of insects. Among his many miracles, Saint Gratus is said to have aided farmers in the French Alps who vanquished a ravenous swarm of locusts by invoking his name. I chose that significant date to host a five-course bug banquet, a first-of-its-kind feast at Cafe Racer, a charmingly off-kilter drinking and dining establishment on the edge of Seattle's University District. Fifty people paid $20 each to attend this fete and to gorge themselves on Orthopteran Orzo, Locust Kabobs, a mealworm-filled Tenebrio Terrine, and a sumptuous Pear Salad dotted with Chiangbai Ants. Between courses, the café offered Bug Juice, a non-alcoholic drink, containing cochineal insect dye. The event was heralded with great enthusiasm by the Seattle media. Writing for the city's alternative newspaper The Stranger, Brendan Kiley urged the Cafe Racer team to consider hosting the bug feast more than once a year. He proposed several additional dates, each of them a feast day commemorating other holy men "who specialize in bugs&emdash;infestations of, fear of, and bites from": Saint Magnus of Füssene (patron of protection from caterpillars), Saint Narcissus (patron of protection from biting insects), Saint Mawes (patron of protection from all insects), and Saint Mark the Evangelist (patron of lawyers). Chinese ants from the Changbai region are sold commercially as a health supplement in Asia. They reputedly have health benefits, perhaps because of their proximity to the finest ginseng-growing region of China. So if you want to slow the aging process or (to quote the literature) "increase sexual vigor," then these ants are for you. When I wrote the first edition of this book, there was a local source of dried Chinese black ants in Los Angeles. However, that company no longer sells my ants of choice, opting to carry a line of healthful ant tinctures instead. As a result, I've had to look for overseas sources, which in my case means begging travelers to the East to bring me back a few vials of China's previous commodity in their luggage. WIthout further fanfare, here is the recipe for a tasty salad topped with dried black ants.

Buy thinly sliced beef at Korean markets, or ask your butcher to cut it for you.

WHAT: White wine infused with cardamom and star anise, as well as the more traditional triumvirate of cinnamon, ginger, and cloves, and amped up with pear brandy.
HOW: A slice of Asian pear is added to each drink as a garnish—the pear softens slightly as it absorbs the warm booze and makes for a yummy treat once you've sipped the last of the wine.
WHY WE LOVE IT: Like a delicate warm sangria, this drink is the perfect accompaniment to a cozy evening indoors.

Is one made with cocktails in hand. Float a cranberry or two on top to snaz them up.

Jellied candies like these are eaten all over Europe as post-dessert petits fours.

この味は驚くばかりである! We make White Miso ice cream in the summer with peaches, in the fall with apples, and in the winter with pears. Alice Waters would be so proud of us . . . you know, if she knew who we were. Doing a flavor with miso was a natural and logical extension of our love for savory elements in our ice creams. Miso is a thick traditional Japanese soy paste that's often used as a condiment or a flavor ingredient in cooking, and it's been growing in popularity as an ingredient in desserts. Since miso is so salty, this is one of the few recipes in the book that doesn't call for added salt or vinegar. In his search to get the flavors right, Jake went to a Japanese supermarket and bought pretty much every kind of miso in the joint: red miso, mixed miso, rice miso, purple miso, soy-only miso, miso-horny, and so on. He eventually settled on a white style. White miso is much more delicate than its counterparts. It's mellow. He still doesn't know what the label says, but boy, it sure gets the job done. White Miso is another "Wow" flavor, with distinct umami undertones that pair well with the seasonal tree fruits. It also goes secretly well with a scoop of Guinness Gingerbread, or simply a little splash of olive oil on top. Inspiration: Jake used to serve miso apple butter with crepes and olive oil ice cream.

Like other cruciferous vegetables, brussels sprouts contain glucosinolates, chemical compounds that have been shown to help prevent cancer. Partnering the little cabbages with pear gives this dish even more fiber, as well as a balance of sweet and savory flavors.

Petite and buttery-tasting, Forelle pears are ideal for dunking in chocolate, although any type of pear will be delicious, from a plump Bartlett to an elegant Bosc. Although it should be eaten in moderation, dark chocolate (with at least 70 percent cocoa) contains flavonoids that help lower blood pressure and reduce the risk of heart disease.

Oven-drying is a slow, gentle cooking process that uses dry heat to extract the water from fruit. Left in the oven for several hours at a low temperature, the fruit does not burn but shrinks and shrivels bit by bit as the water evaporates. As the outside of the fruit dries, the inside turns soft and chewy. Although pears, plums, and apricots are used here, any combination of stone fruit, berries, or other fruit can be dried in a similar way.

Avocado provides folic acid, fiber, and monounsaturated fatty acids; pear adds extra soluble fiber and sweetness.

To intensify the flavor of the squash, you can roast it before simmering in the soup: Halve squash lengthwise and scoop out seeds, then season squash halves with salt and pepper; place cut sides down on a lightly oiled baking sheet and roast in a 400°F oven until tender when pierced with a knife, about 30 minutes. Scoop the squash from the skins and discard skins, then proceed with the recipe, simmering in stock for 8 to 10 minutes, to let flavors meld.

The onion can be substituted with one leek or two large shallots (this is true for the variations, too) and the spinach with other leafy greens, such as chard, kale, watercress, or sorrel. For a soup with brighter color, the leafy greens are added in the last five minutes of cooking, just so they are given a chance to wilt.

These individual upside-down cakes are baked—and can be transported—in a muffin tin.

To make a dairy-free version of this recipe, substitute margarine for the butter and soy milk for the regular milk. The cake can be made (without the pears) 1 day ahead, and stored in plastic wrap at room temperature.