In 2005, Maxence and I traveled to New York so I could meet with the editor who would be publishing my first cookbook. I had just given notice at my office, and I only had a few more weeks to go before I made the jump to full-time writer. The trip crystallized this momentous turning point, and we enjoyed it accordingly.
My editor invited my agent and me to Jean-Georges for a sublime lunch in the sun-drenched dining room, and eight years later I still remember it in great detail. One of the things that stuck with me the most was the fresh pineapple that was carved table-side and served as a pre-dessert.
I almost clapped at the picture-perfect slices the waiter brought to us, flecked with crystallized mint and rose petals.
Working from a nearby cart, our waiter sliced off the bottom of the fruit, stuck two facing forks in it to serve as a handle, and conducted the rest of the procedure in mid-air: wielding a knife effortlessly in his right hand, he sliced off the outer bark, then carved out the eyes in a spiral ribbon all around the pineapple. I was amazed by his dexterity, and almost clapped at the picture-perfect slices he then brought to us, flecked with crystallized mint and rose petals.
It is the spirit of that waiter that I tried to channel as I carved my own pineapple for a dessert of roasted pineapple I recently served. I winged it from memory and was pretty pleased with the result, but if you want to try it yourself, I recommend this video and Elise’s instructions. (Instead of tossing the trimmings, run them in a blender and filter to make pineapple juice.)
Once I’d carved the pineapple, I sliced it into six wedges, and brushed them with a honey and vanilla syrup infused with the spectacular vanilla that I use, and spiked with a little rum and lemon juice. The wedges went into the oven until the fruit was softened, its juices concentrated and verging on caramelization.
I considered serving the wedges with a dab of crème fraîche or a scoop of coconut ice cream, but instead opted to make the coconut “whipped cream” I’d been reading about. The idea is to retain only the solids from a can of coconut milk, and whip it like you would ordinary whipping cream. (I found this tutorial helpful, especially the can-flipping trick.)
The coconut whipped cream was a revelation: fluffy and delicious, it didn’t need any sort of flavoring or sweetening. It served as the perfect companion to my roasted pineapple, but I can see it adorning an apple slice or a wedge of chocolate cake just as beautifully.