I’m constantly lamenting the dearth of sweet recipes I post here. It misrepresents me! I love sweet things: love dreaming them up, baking them, decorating them, sharing them. The problem with maintaining a recipe blog is the amount of food one needs to consume (or give away to be consumed), and I just can’t keep up with ultra-sweet dessert posts. Fortunately, this will soon change as I will soon have a new kitchen hand and willing eater joining my household! 

In the meantime, I’ve cheated a bit by mixing work and play (nannying and blogging - you figure out which is which!). One of my charges is a very helpful, sweet-toothed preschooler who played kitchen assistant today as we mixed, poured, rolled and baked. 

There’s absolutely nothing I won’t eat (as far as I know), but I tend to shy away from super rich sweetness when picking treats. These cookies are much more my pace since the tart cranberries are a bit of a surprise. Plus, the combination of purple raisins, golden raisins and dried cranberries makes them such a pretty take on an otherwise basic cookie (and you know I absolutely cannot resist pretty things). 

My very picky helper even liked them!

Tri-Colored Oatmeal Raisin Cookies (adapted from I Shot The Chef)

• 2-1/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 3/4 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1 stick unsalted butter, softened slightly
• 1-1/2 cups packed light brown sugar
• 2 large eggs
• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
• 1-1/4 cups rolled oats
• 2/3 cup raisins
• 2/3 cup golden raisins
• 2/3 cup dried cranberries

In a bowl, sift together flour, baking soda and salt. In another bowl, cream the butter and the sugar. Stir in the eggs and the vanilla extract. Add the dry mixture to the wet mixture a little at a time. Stir in oats, then gently fold in raisins. Refrigerate for at least 30 minutes. In the meantime, preheat oven to 350ºF. 

Remove from refrigerator and set aside. Line cookie sheets with parchment paper and drop rounded spoonfuls of dough onto the trays. Bake for 13-18 minutes or until golden brown. 

This ridiculously simple French rice pudding is soul food that’s equally delicious for dessert as it is for breakfast the next morning. It may also be the best cure for a broken heart, especially when served to those you love most, which is why I packed an overnight back and made the hour-long trip to my parents’ house at midnight a couple of weeks ago, and then cooked them up a steaming pot of riz au lait. 

Making riz au lait (pronounced, roughly, ree-oh-lay) is a labor of love, so diligently must it be tended to, so slowly must it be forced to absorb a great amount of milk, so frequently must it be stirred to avoid the constant potential of burning. Unless you have a proliferation of spoons and can use a new one for every taste, I don’t recommend making riz au lait if you’re sick, or cooking for someone who would be totally grossed out by double dipping. The only way to make a truly successful riz au lait is to taste constantly. You’re striving for a perfect balance, the tipping point at which point the rice has absorbed as much milk as possible but has not yet begun to lose its shape and fall into depressing mushiness. (I will say that I have a genetic disposition to making rice that clearly fits the description of “depressingly mushy,” so perhaps I exaggerate the precision it takes to make a perfectly tender yet shapely riz au lait.) You can also play around a lot with the amount of milk depending on whether you prefer a more scoopable rice pudding or one that’s more liquid. Either way, not overcooking the rice is important. 

You can add all sorts of extras to your riz au lait; I prefer to top mine with a sprinkle of cinnamon and maybe some chopped apple for crunch. Sweet and creamy on its own, it’s also delicious plain, either hot or cold (I usually eat it hot for dessert and cold for breakfast). 

Riz Au Lait

• 2 cups medium- or short-grain white rice
• about 3 quarts milk (I prefer 2% or whole for riz au lait, and the amount I use varies depending on my rice so having extra on hand isn’t a bad idea.)
• sugar to taste (I use about 1/4 cup usually)
• cinnamon, apple, or whatever you prefer as garnish

1. Pour the rice into a heavy-bottomed pot. Add enough milk to cover and bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and stir, uncovered, until most of the milk has been absorbed.

2. Add another cup or so of milk. Stir over very low heat until most of milk is absorbed. Repeat until the rice is very tender. Stir in sugar to taste and serve hot or cold. 

Like a lot of my baking urges, this one came late at night and to the familiar tune of “Mmm, chocolate!” I have a bar of extra dark chocolate in my pantry, reserved specifically for such cravings. However, “Mmm, chocolate!” rarely goes away after a square, or even two, of extra dark chocolate; “Mmm, chocolate!” is too complex to be quieted by a dark chocolate bar. It usually requires something freshly baked. Pronto.

My sister’s cure for “Mmm, chocolate!” comes in the form of a 3-minute microwaveable chocolate cake in a mug. I don’t know what visionary dreamed up a chocolate cake you can make from scratch in only three minutes (in a mug! did I mention that?), but it seems too good to be true. And in my case, it is too good to be true… Because I don’t have a microwave! Who doesn’t have a microwave in this day and age? Me, and I have never been sorrier than during a particularly terrible bout of “Mmm, chocolate!”

I should have anticipated that I was going to have such an episode when, a couple of nights ago, I decided to bake something that required rising twice. I needed, you know, a little snack to tide me over. Before I knew it, a whole If You Give a Mouse a Cookie situation had unfolded and my kitchen was a mess of dirty measuring cups and lightly floured surfaces and I’d eaten not one but three chocolate muffins that I barely remembered deciding to bake. 

If you are good enough at recognizing the early warning symptoms of “Mmm, chocolate!” and can stand to wait for these little muffins to bake, they’re not at all a bad remedy. They’re full of things you’re bound to have in your pantry, which is incredibly important because you don’t have time to dash to the store for ingredients for god’s sake when you’re suffering terribly from “Mmm, chocolate!” 

As a side note, if you have a sweet tooth you may require icing. I ate mine from a bowl with a bit of cream poured on top.

Chocolate Craving Muffins (adapted from the New York Times)

• 1-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 3 tablespoons cocoa
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 2 tablespoons lemon juice
• 5 tablespoons canola oil
• 1 cup cold water

1. Preheat oven to 350ºF. Grease or line 12 muffin cups. Whisk together dry ingredients in a medium bowl.

2. Make three wells in dry mixture. Pour vanilla into one well, lemon juice into the second, and oil into the third. Sprinkle the cold water over top and mix until smooth.

3. Pour batter into muffin cups, filling them about 2/3 full for regular-sized muffins (I only filled mine half full and got more mini muffins, the better to save for chocolate cravings yet to come). Bake for 20-25 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in center comes out clean.

I escape the languid last days of summer by imagining that I’m somewhere far and away. For all of my complaining about the heat, I actually don’t mind it that much (I do live without air conditioning by choice, but shh, don’t tell or I’ll lose my whining rights!). I actually just mind the wilted, burnt flora of Ohio, dressed in a brownish green that would put even the cheeriest of people in a funk. I’m imagining that I live somewhere much more exotic, like Morocco. That’s certainly the general region my taste buds long for lately, anyway.

My parents house has become a bit like the L’Auberge Espagnole over the past few weeks as lingering French friends of my brothers overlapped with the arrival of the newest member of my household, a Turkish-German exchange student who will be living with them for the next year. On the night of her arrival, my parents picked her up from the airport while I put the finishing touches on a meal I’d started preparing the night before in my apartment. Every special dinner needs a dessert, I think (and every Frenchman needs a dessert at every meal; ask one), and these poached pears seemed perfect since I could easily make them a day ahead. The pears can be refrigerated in the poaching liquid for up to 3 days in an airtight container, but be sure to remove them from the fridge several hours before serving, to bring them back to room temperature. 

Sweet with a hint of citrus and spice, I was in end-of-summer heaven. Eve the exchange student, who claimed no appetite and barely touched her dinner, held tight to her dessert when my mother tried to clear it away.

Poached Pears with Prunes (adapted from Food & Wine)

• 3 quarts water
• 1-1/2 cups sugar
• 1 navel orange
• 2 3-inch cinnamon sticks
• 2 bay leaves
• 8 large Bartlett  pears
• 16 pitted prunes

1. Carefully peel the pears using a vegetable peeler. Leave the stems attached. Slice the orange, leaving its peel on.

2. In a large soup pot, bring the water to a boil with the sugar, orange, cinnamon sticks and bay leaves. Stir until the sugar is dissolved, then add the pears and prunes and cook over medium heat for about 25 minutes. Turn the pears often, very gently.

3. Use a slotted spoons to remove the pears and prunes to a serving bowl. Bring the liquid back to a boil and cook until it is reduced to about 1 quart. Strain the syrup over the pears and serve. 8 servings.

I’ve mentioned before that I have a weakness for sweets with unexpected ingredients. The idea for a basil-infused sweet cream came to me on my evening run, which I cut short to race home and act on my possibly questionable inspiration. I say questionable because I’ve never made basil-infused anything and didn’t consult a recipe. I’m still not sure what my concoction’s best presentation is, but it is tasty (if I do say so myself) and so I’m sure I’ll find many more uses for it soon.

Does anyone else have more basil than they know what to do with this summer? Maybe it’s just that I live alone, but I cannot keep up with my basil plant and just keep tearing off bunches and freezing them whole (which works pretty well for pesto late in the season) to prevent my plant from going to seed. So far I’ve restricted my uses of basil to savory dishes, which is, I’ve decided, far too limiting. I had a bit of white chocolate left over from these cookies, and voilà! Basil and white chocolate cream.

It’s a slightly frothy sweetened cream with flecks of green and a really beautiful, delicate basil flavor. I used it to cream my cold brew coffee this morning, but the basil flavor struggled to shine (though I still thought it was delicious). I couldn’t wait to share this recipe until I’ve tested it in more formats (I’m envisioning it spooned over dry, cakey desserts and possibly as part of a creamy summer cocktail). Instead, I though it would be more fun for you to share with me how you decide to put this sweet little recipe to use.

Basil and White Chocolate Cream

• 1 cup half and half
• 4 ounces high-quality white chocolate
• A small handful (about 1/4 cup) fresh basil leaves

1. In a small saucepan over low heat, slowly heat the half and half, stirring frequently. When it is steaming, add the white chocolate in small pieces and whisk constantly until melted. Remove from heat.

2. Drop the basil leaves, whole but separated from the stem, into the cream mixture and allow to steep until the mixture has cooled a bit, about 15 minutes.

3. In a food processor or blender, blend the mixture until frothy and the basil is flecked throughout. Chill and serve however you like, and by all means leave a comment below to let me know how you do!

The sweet little girl I watch loves to ask me when I’ll have babies so she can babysit them. I can empathize because I’ve been waiting for my favorite childhood sitter to reproduce for what seems like ages. She has such a nurturing, motherly disposition that she deserved only the most adorable little bundle of joy out there. Her little baby boy was born one month ago, and after finally meeting him two days ago, I can say that he seems to be just that. (Okay, actually, he was sleeping at the time, but I do get to play with him later in the story and make that judgement with more accuracy…)

Since this particularly amazing former sitter happens to be visiting my hometown this month, and seeing as I am currently only partially employed (please hire me!), I gladly offered my nanny services should the need arise. Imagine my surprise and delight when I received a voicemail asking not for childcare, but for cookies!

Oatmeal, it turns out, is particularly good for mothers who breast feed because it improves lactation. That aside, they are also mouthwateringly delicious. I don’t even like white chocolate much (too sweet for me) but was forced to call that distaste into question the minute I sunk my teeth into one of these warm, chewy and crispy cookies. A little bit of salt sprinkled on top of each cookie balances the sweetness of the white chocolate, which, by the way, I’ve discovered is less sweet and more flavorful if you invest in the good stuff. 

I delivered the cookies and finally got to hold and play with the baby (who actually was just as sweet as I proclaimed at the beginning of this post), and later received a text message follow-up. Let me just say that the words “best oatmeal cookie” were used. 

Sweet and Salty White Chocolate Chunk Oatmeal Cookies (adapted from Smitten Kitchen)

• 1 cup all-purpose flour
• 3/4 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/4 teaspoon table salt
• 1-3/4 sticks of butter
• 1 cup sugar
• 1/4 cup packed light brown sugar
• 1 large egg
• 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
• 2-1/2 cups old fashioned oats
• 7 ounces white chocolate (2 high-quality white chocolate bars)
• 3/4 teaspoon coarse sea salt

1. Remove the butter from the fridge and allow to soften a bit (time will vary depending on the heat of your kitchen) or remove directly before beginning, unwrap and place on a plate to microwave for 15 seconds. It doesn’t need to be very soft, and if it melts your cookies won’t hold their shape, so be careful not to overdo it. Set aside. Coarsely chop the chocolate bars and set aside.

2. Preheat oven to 350ºF and line 2 very large baking sheets with parchment paper.

3. Whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. In a large bowl (preferably the bowl of an electric mixer), beat the butter and sugars until fluffy. Add the egg and vanilla and beat until smooth. Add the oats and chocolate chunks and stir until just combined.

4. Roll the dough between clean hands to form balls about 1-1/2 inches in diameter (the recipe should make about 2 dozen cookies). Place evenly on the baking sheets. (Be careful if your baking sheets are not very large - I wish I had baked only 6 cookies per sheet and then done a second batch because the edges ran together a little bit. With warmer butter, that could have been disastrous.)

5. Using your fingers, press down slightly on the top of each ball until it is about 3/4 of an inch thick.

6. Bake for 13-16 minutes, or until a dark golden color.

I’m a sucker for any dessert that uses ingredients normally associated with savory dishes. The Thai chili ice cream from the gourmet ice cream shop in my neighborhood is a prime example: Is the Thai chili better than the mango lassi? I may never find out, so tempted am I by more unexpected ingredients. My interest was then naturally piqued by the idea of this olive oil tarte when it was suggested to me by a friend whose baking is legendary.

In letting myself get preoccupied by the addition of olive oil to this tarte, which I felt sure was going to add another dimension of yum, I left myself totally defenseless against the utter bliss of the lemon curd. It would seem unfair to neglect to preface this recipe: You will want to eat the lemon curd with a spoon. It’s perfection and you won’t be able to resist. You have been warned. But don’t be discouraged and stop at the lemon curd when you find yourself curled up with the mixing bowl on your lap, because the only way I’d rather eat lemon curd than cradled in a giant soupspoon is atop a crispy almond crust.

I really fumbled along the way making this recipe, and as a result it took two stabs at the crust and three at the filling to get it right. My mistakes made for a few scars, but I do think I finally hammered out issues with measurements, since my pan was much larger than the original recipe called for. However, if you find that you have too much dough for your tarte pan, I would encourage you to use only what you need. I used it all and my crust was a tiny bit thicker than I normally like.

Lemon Curd and Olive Oil Tarte (adapted from Epicurious)

For shell:

• 3 oz. whole roasted almonds, skin on (about 2 slightly heaping tablespoons)
• 1-1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1/2 cup confectioner’s sugar
• 1/8 teaspoon salt
• 1 stick unsalted butter, cold and cut into 1/2 inch pieces
• 2 large egg yolks
• 6 tablespoons olive oil

For lemon curd:

• 4 large lemons
• 1-1/8 cups granulated sugar
• 3 teaspoons cornstarch
• 3 whole large eggs plus 3 large egg yolks
• 6 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into 1/2 inch pieces
• 3 tablespoons olive oil

1. In the bowl of a food processor, blend almonds, flour, sugar and salt until the almonds are finely ground. Add butter and pulse until the largest pieces of butter are the size of small peas and the mixture resembles a course meal. Add the egg yolks and olive oil and blend just until a soft dough forms.

2. Spread dough over bottom and up sides of an 11-inch tarte pan with removable bottom. Preheat the oven to 425ºF. Put the crust in the refrigerator to chill for 30 minutes or until firm, then bake for 11-13 minutes or until golden. Remove to a rack and allow to cool for 30 minutes. 

3. Grate the lemons to collect 1-2 tablespoons of zest depending on how intense you want the lemon flavor to be (I used 2), then juice the lemons, which should yield about 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons. In a medium saucepan, whisk together the lemon juice, zest, sugar, corn starch, eggs and yolks. Place over medium heat and whisk constantly for about 2 minutes or until thick. It might take a little longer, and be careful not to stop before it thickens. Remove from heat and whisk in butter and olive oil. 

4. Pour the lemon curd into the shell and spread evenly with a spatula. Cool for at least two hours before serving.

When I got this recipe via e-mail from one of my mom’s friends, I absolutely knew I had to make these cookies. Maybe it was the appeal of a challenge - in this case, making wheat germ seem appetizing - or maybe just the tantalizing thought of a peanut butter cookie more unique than the traditional criss-cross kind. Actually, it might’ve been the prospect of a cookie so chock full of healthy things that I wouldn’t have to feel guilty eating two or three… or ten.

In any case, whatever it was that convinced me that I needed to make these cookies today, despite the fact that it was 86 degrees outside and the last thing I wanted to do was to turn on the oven in my parents’ A/C-free house, I’m so glad I tried them. They stayed really puffy and moist, weren’t overwhelmingly sweet, and there’s just enough peanut butter in them that I really, really wanted to eat another, and another, and maybe another… Oh, and I had help from a really beautiful little assistant, who also put her stamp of approval on the cookies and ate several to prove it. 

For those of you who share my skepticism where wheat germ is concerned, I would encourage you to set aside your reservations about purchasing it just for this recipe. Wheat germ is an excellent source of fiber and can be added, nearly imperceptibly thank goodness, to many recipes to add dietary value. I sprinkle it on my cereal sometimes, but my parents have been known to mix it into smoothies and all sorts of things. Experiment and let me know what works for you. 

Peanut Butter Oat Cookies (adapted from Great American Recipes)

• 1 cup canola oil
• 2 tablespoons molasses
• 1 cup sugar
• 1 teaspoon vanilla
• 1 cup creamy peanut butter
• 2 eggs, beaten
• 1-1/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 cup wheat germ
• 3/4 cup oatmeal
• 2 teaspoons baking soda

1. Preheat oven to 350ºF. Mix canola oil, molasses, sugar, vanilla, peanut butter and eggs until smooth.

2. In a separate bowl, combine flour, wheat germ, oatmeal and baking soda.

3. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and stir until combined.

4. Using your hands (this will be greasy!), form 1-inch balls and place 3 inches apart on a parchment paper-lined baking sheet. Bake for 10-12 minutes, or until tops of cookies spring back a bit when you gently press a finger into them.

I’m not indecisive, I just like everything. Of course, there are some things I prefer to others, and frankly bananas aren’t among them. I don’t often feel inspired to snack on a whole banana, and when I do, it’s usually only if the skin is tinged with green and the fruit inside is still tart. 

If there’s one person whose love for bananas is inspiring enough to make me pick up a bruised banana and think, “I actually might like bananas,” it’s my boyfriend. Colin likes bananas, well, just about however he can get them! I don’t remember exactly why we were inspired to create our own recipe for a banana cake about two years ago, but late one night we decided that we couldn’t live without one. It was midnight on a weeknight by the time we sat down to eat it, and it was just about as delicious and perfect as all food is at midnight. It took us days to finish the entire cake, and despite fears that a dash of late-night craving was the secret ingredient that caused its success, the cake actually seemed to improve with each day it sat on the countertop. We dubbed it Midnight Banana Cake and have been dreaming about it ever since.

Our first cake was a decidedly amateur endeavor, the kind of late-night baking that I was particularly prone to when I was in college. Since I’ve been a college graduate for four whole days, I decided to do something a bit fancier and fan out the banana slices, which, even when they turn brown the next morning, sweetly melt in your mouth like a layer of icing. Of course, unless you’re, oh, I don’t know, a fanatic like myself, you’re probably not interested in thinly slicing four bananas at midnight. You may be more attracted to the simpler, equally tasty but far less beautiful version. You can even watch a silly video Colin made about the birth of banana cake. Or you just may want to try making this cake at another time of day.

I’ve only attempted to recreate Midnight Banana Cake once and I found it disappointing, though Colin, unconditional lover of bananas that he is, told me he adored it. When the famous cake came up in conversation recently, I decided it was high time to give the recipe another go and to restore Midnight Banana Cake’s reputation as the cake that’s perfect at every meal.

You see, Midnight Banana Cake is just a more decadent version of banana bread, and I’m perfectly happy pretending that, like banana bread, a slice of Midnight Banana Cake can be justified as a “healthy snack.” It’s simply a more luxurious, dressed-up version that I can fool myself into not feeling guilty eating with every meal: a warm slice alongside a cup of café au lait for breakfast, a tiny wedge to satisfy a sweet tooth after lunch, and another piece in the evening, maybe even topped with whipped cream! 

Oh, and my version has no nuts. You could easily add some so long as you don’t have a difficult boyfriend whose hard-things-in-soft-things phobia precludes his enjoyment of any cake with bits of nuts inside.

Midnight Banana Cake (adapted from my own recipe)

• 2-1/4 cups all-purpose flour
• 1-1/4 teaspoons baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 6 whole bananas
• 1-1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
• 1/4 cup plain yogurt
• 1 stick butter, softened
• 1 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
• 2 eggs

1. Preheat the oven to 350ºF. Butter 2 9-inch cake pans. I traced my pans and lined the bottoms with parchment paper; I cannot recommend this enough!

2. Whisk together flour, baking soda and salt. 

3. In another bowl, mash 2 bananas with the yogurt and vanilla extract.

4. In a large bowl, cream the butter and sugar. It’s pretty useful to have an electric mixer at this point. Beat in the eggs one at a time.

5. Alternate adding the dry ingredients and the mashed banana mixture to the large bowl just until all three parts are combined.

6. Evenly divide the batter between the two pans and bake for 20-25 minutes, until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Remove the cakes from the oven and allow to cool for 15 minutes.

7. Slice the remaining four bananas very thinly crosswise. Turn one of the cakes out onto a plate and arrange the banana slices in a thin layer, covering the entire top of the cake. Lay the second cake carefully on top and repeat with remaining banana slices.