SWEET DREAMS | 1, 2, 3

But we ate them anyway. My poor father would dutifully eat whatever my mother put in front of him. Having finished, he'd lift his head, push his plate aside, look at me, and say, "Well... nice try. What was it exactly?" Undaunted, I kept cooking. Saturday by Saturday; my comfort level grew with my confidence and my repertoire. Eventually I branched out to the savory side. By the time I got to high school, I was writing menus and doing the shopping. From the start, cooking was the most expressive thing that this shy, quiet little girl had done. Among my brothers and sisters, I was neither the smartest nor the most athletic nor the prettiest nor the most troublesome. But I was the cook.

At family gatherings, I spent hours firmly attached to my mother's skirt, never venturing forth, barely uttering a word. Yet I had made the onion dip or the sweet potatoes or the chocolate-chip cookies. From a distance I would watch people eating what I'd made, see their faces register delight as they took the first bite. That's how I participated.

My only natural "gift" was that I was willing to take the time to make something really special. My mother has always stopped reading an ingredients list after the first six items. Her chicken in cream sauce (which I requested for my tenth birthday) turned out to be bundles of chicken bobbing in a murky broth with some ragged onion pieces floating past. "Was there a picture in the cookbook? And did it look like this?" we'd ask, as she unveiled entrée after entrée.

Now, nine years out of culinary school, there remain traces of the little girl I was in the working chef I am today. Cooking is still the most expressive thing I do. And my favorite moments, just like those long-ago Saturdays, are when it's just me and a recipe and a desire to make something delicious. Best of all are the times when there's one trusted person around, near but not hovering, to whom I can say, "Here's what I've made. What do you think?"

CINNAMON APPLEJACK ICE CREAM

Though perfectly delicious on its own, this ice cream also makes a great accompaniment to the spiced apple cake (recipe follows).

1/2 vanilla bean, split lengthwise
2 cups half-and-half
2 cups heavy cream
4 (3-inch) cinnamon sticks, coarsely crushed
10 large egg yolks
3/4 cup plus 2 tablespoons sugar
1/2 cup applejack brandy or Calvados

SPECIAL EQUIPMENT
An ice-cream maker

Scrape seeds from vanilla bean into a 2- to 3-quart heavy saucepan and add pod, half-and-half, cream, and cinnamon. Heat just to boiling over moderate heat.

Meanwhile, whisk together yolks and sugar. Whisk one third of hot cream mixture into yolks to temper egg, then whisk egg mixture and cook over moderately low heat, stirring constantly, just until mixture registers 175°F on an instant-read thermometer.

Immediately transfer custard to a metal bowl set in a larger bowl of ice and cold water and cool, stirring occasionally. Chill, covered, at least 8 hours to blend flavors.

Pour custard through a sieve into a bowl and stir in brandy. Freeze in ice-cream maker, then transfer to an airtight container and put in freezer to harden.

Makes about 5 cups.

COOKS' NOTE: Custard can be chilled up to 1 day.

Next: Spiced apple cake & parisienne apples with calvados butter >>
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