Saturn Peach Gingersnap Tartlets

No, I'm not baking, are you kidding?! Italy is suffering the worst heatwave in 135 years. Nope, not a typo: one-hundred-and-thirty-five years. It's so hot I hardly have the energy to cook, let alone bake.

But every now and then, I allow myself a small digression from the "eating plan" and make something sweet. I make dessert, even in the middle of this crazy Italian summer (See what I did there? I called it an eating plan, I didn't use the D-word).

Plus, taking advantage of the season's amazing fruit, I convince myself that these desserts don't even constitute a danger for said diet eating plan. A great solution for eating sweet yet healthy in summer is making large batches of fruit smoothies. The best employment of the smoothie? Mixing in 1 tbsp of sugarless jam (of the same fruit you pureed), pouring it in plastic cups and stacking them in the freezer. Hello, healthy homemade popsicles.

If ice lollies are not your thing, and need something a little more substantial to chew on, you could always make my failsafe "tartellette alle pesche saturnine". Saturn (or donut) peaches – also locally called tabacchiere because they resemble tobacco snuff boxes – are my favorite stone fruit. If you've been reading this blog long enough you may remember how I even made tiramisu with Saturn peaches. Today's recipe is an ode to sloth and laziness. No cooking, no baking, just putting together great seasonal ingredients for a sweet summer cuddle.

These particular tartlets combine the aromatic, succulent pinkish flesh of the Saturn peach, with the spiced kick of ginger contained in the base, and the cold, creamy middle. I use ricotta, but you could use mascarpone, gelato, cream cheese, Greek yogurt or – if you're feeling particularly sinful – gorgonzola. Or even burrata.

Yes, I said burrata, stop salivating.

There's no need to turn on the oven to enjoy these Saturn peach tartlets. Just start with a great cookie to begin with, and assemble your way up. I'm using Pepparkakor biscuits, known outside of Sweden as ginger snaps, or ginger thins.

Quantity of units is up to you. I put out all the ingredients and eat as I build, while binge-watching my favorite Netflix series.

Ingredients, in liberal amounts
Ginger thins
Ricotta cheese (or gelato, mascarpone, cream cheese, Greek yogurt, gorgonzola or burrata)
Saturn peaches, rinsed and sliced

Slather your dairy cream of choice on cookie. Top with sliced peaches. Devour.
Repeat.

Buon appetito!

Peach Tiramisu recipe

For some they're called Saturn, an Australian friend names them "donut;" here in Italy they're tabacchiere, because they resemble snuff boxes. Whatever their moniker, the small, flat and white perfumy peaches are the star ingredient in today's particularly droolsome summer tiramisu. Light, quick and easy to make, this particular dessert is magic: it has the power to disappear seconds after landing on your plate.

Ingredients for a 9' x 12' baking dish:

1 lb plain yogurt
1 lb mascarpone cheese
2 tablespoons brown sugar
1 family-pack of Pavesini cookies (or lady fingers)
10 Saturn peaches (or 4-5 regular round, white peaches), peeled and thinly sliced
1/2 cup peach nectar

In a mixing bowl, combine yogurt, mascarpone and sugar with a wire whip, until well blended.

Quicky dip the cookies in the peach nectar (I didn't say soak, just quickly wet them, they should not go all soggy on you) and line the bottom of the baking dish with the moist cookies.

Slather a thin layer of creamy yogurt + mascarpone mixture, and cover with peach slices.

Spread another coating of creamy mixture, and continue layering moist cookies, cream, peaches, cream, moist cookies, cream, peaches... and so forth, completing with a final blanket of cookies.

Cover with plastic wrap and refrigerate at least two hours before diving in.

Pesche al vino recipe

lacocinadebender.com

Peaches and wine make a fine pair. A sliced white peach soaking in chilled Chardonnay is almost as sweet as a lover' first kiss. Bold red wine, yellow flesh peaches and orange wedges bobbing in a bowl of soda and a shot of cognac Sangria are a terrific drink. Peach nectar and Champagne make bubbly Bellini. The duo is dynamic and downright divine. Applying these same pairing principles, you may wish for an equally inspired dessert. Feel free to vary quantities, proportions and ingredients; all you really need is your peaches and vino.

4 very ripe peaches
Robust red wine
Icing sugar
A cinnamon stick
Lemon rind

Remove the peach pits, and peel the fruits. (To make peeling easier, carve a small cross-shaped incision at the tip. Then blanche and shock them in water and ice, after 10 minutes peels will slip right off).

Arrange peeled peaches in a bowl and set aside. In a saucepan over a medium heat, pour one glass of red wine, two tablespoons of powdered sugar, a stick of cinnamon, and a piece of lemon rind.

Simmer these together for 3 minutes over medium heat, and then pour the hot liquid over the peaches in the bowl.

Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and allow it to stand for at least 2 hours. Remove lemon rind and cinnamon stick, and serve chilled presented in smaller serving bowls, plain or à la mode.

Bellini cocktail recipe

After all that hard work canning tomatoes,  and the energy spent scarfing Ferragosto fare, I thought we deserved a little reward.

I'm making a popular treat for us.
It combines elements I have spoken about earlier in these virtual pages...

The city of Venice...


...and peaches.

Can you guess what it is?

Today's recipe is for cocktails.
Let's make decadent and refreshing Bellini.

Image copyright rfarmer

Courtesy of Champagne Resource:
The Bellini was originally poured in Venice at a famous place called Harry's Bar. Created by Guiseppe Cipriani in 1931, the Bellini's delicate flavor is still popular more than 75 years later. Harry’s Bar was named after co-owner Harry Pickering, an American millionaire. Guiseppe, a bartender at a Venice hotel, took a leap of faith when he loaned a patron, Harry Pickering, 1,000,000 lire (at the time worth $5,000) after Pickering had been financially cut off by his family. For his generosity, Pickering repaid Giuseppe $25,000 two years later and together they opened Harry's Bar.

The Bellini quickly became the signature drink at Harry’s Bar, though it was not officially called the Bellini until some time in 1948, when it was named in honor of the artist, Giovanni Bellini. This drink uses fresh peaches and an Italian sparking wine called Prosecco. It's a little known fact that there is no actual Champagne in a traditional Bellini. While Prosecco is a light and effervescent wine, its sturdy bubbles actually hold up well against the fruit’s pulp. Since high quality vintage champagne tends to have extremely small bubbles, many believe that utilizing vintage champagne will result in an inferior Bellini.

Image copyright iessi

To make this mind-blowing cocktail you will need:
1 small white peach per person
4 oz Prosecco sparking wine per person
champagne flutes
shaker
blender/food processor
freezer

Slice the peaches vertically, peel and remove the flesh from the pits. Whir the slices in the blender or food processor to obtain a frothy puree. While many naively believe that a can of peach nectar can be used, this should only be a last minute option. There is truly no substitute for the complexity of flavors that emerge from the fresh fruit.

Put the peach puree in a shaker or a beer mug, and place it in the freezer until it is thoroughly chilled, but not frozen solid. Pour the cold Prosecco into the chilled puree and stir gently. Once well blended, pour the mixture into champagne flutes and garnish with your lips.

On eating a white peach

I like to peel the fuzzy skin off a peach with my fingers. No blades, only fingernails. The plump fruit in question must be almost over-ripe to do this right.

And foreplay begins.

Deep floral notes invest my nostrils as I pare away with meticulous precision. The fragrant reward for such labor is reminiscent of south-facing walls and summer days, the cackle of child's play and my grandmother's sundress. Just a hint of almond clings on my fingers, like an afterthought.

When the shining orb is unclothed, it slips dangerously in my hands, I am compelled to assail it with my teeth. The first impact is a sensuous kiss, one wet with humor and dribbly juices. My chin cannot embank the nectar rivulets, they mercilessly fall like pink droplets of sunset to my lap. I bite so deep that my teeth scrape the pit. The succulent ambrosia tastes sweet, with a touch of tart to it; I try to prolong the moment by chewing longer, but the flesh succumbs to my mouth without effort. The sweet intoxication is devastating, I need to sink my teeth into it again.

I gaze in the opening my teeth have carved away from this exquisite Asian globe, and I see the outer white pulp begin to bruise slightly, its inner blood-red hues leaning towards crimson.
As the weight of the peach begins to decrease with each bite, I leave one last wedge attached to the gnarled pit, my eye slanting to the frosty glass of Ribolla gialla.

I dive the morsel into the wine and let it soak for a minute before indulging in both.