Food

Florence Fabricant decided to take advantage of the lush peaches and excellent blueberries that will be at their zenith in flavor during late July. There are already fine peaches and berries in the market so you can make this right away.

Mary Emmerling has elected to serve a menu from her newly pub­lished book, “American Country Cooking.” This hors d’oeuvre will lead things off at her dress-in-white summer dinner for ten.

I don't know if herbs have ever before crossed national boundaries in such a massive immigration as they are invading American cookery of the ’80s. Dill used to be Scandinavian; oregano Italian, and the less common anise-flavored tarragon, strictly French. The English were sage; Mexican, coriander, and I don’t know what we were — parsley, maybe. Now they’ve come to an enthusiastic melting pot and American cookery really sings with all these different accents.

All this lamb talk is because we are smack-dab in the middle of “spring lamb season,” which is largely myth nowadays because lambs are born all year round in different parts of the country.

Except for Easter basket bunnies, white chocolate used to be relatively difficult to find, but the Nestle Com­pany produces a “baking bar” carried in most supermarkets.

“True genius always looks simple, and the best of creations are 'obvious.'" — Rudolph Chelminski, “The French at Table.”

Souffles have magic and mystery — they’re always box office even though their simple trickery has long been familiar. This is great for the January blahs when we all need some different, innovative, out-of-the-rut food.

This is a thick version of summer’s soupe au pistou, changed to make use of vegetables available locally in winter. Fresh basil grows in my greenhouse, but as it isn’t usually buyable in winter, use bottled pesto sauce, which can be bought in specialty food shops to provide the finishing earthy flavor of this soul and belly-warming stew.

Although this recipe appeared in a Larder column several years ago, I heard that several people had loved it but lost it, so here it is again. Choose a plain or fancy fluted mold of two-quart capacity (or a bundt cake pan). Oil it lightly and chill it before you start. Another advantage of this dessert is that it can, and should be, made at least 24 hours in advance — even two days is fine. The flavor and firmness develop and the mousse is easier to unmold after this time. Unmolded before dinner, covered with plastic wrap, and replaced in the refrigerator, this is a fairly carefree finale to dinner. Serve with clouds of real whipped cream only barely sweetened.

Sherbet can be frozen in a bowl in the freezer of your refrigerator, then aerated with a food processor or electric mixer when it is semi-frozen, then refrozen.

“All that glitters is not gold” . . . and all that is gold does not glitter. The pig, that estimable creature, while no thing of beauty and generally not highly regarded as to character, nevertheless supplies some of the world’s best fare. The porker, from snout to tail, is perhaps the most utilitarian of all our domestic animals and yet is perhaps the least treasured of meats.

Broccoli and other cruciferous vegetables were common on Colonial tables, but somehow got lost by their descendants. Although such truck, as broccoli, kale, chard, and a green known confusingly to Italians and precious few others as broccoli rabe and broccoli rapa, have been around for centuries, many cooks still have no idea of what to do with them.