Spiced Pomegranate Molasses Applesauce
Matzohs
Making Matzoh Brie
Matzoh Brie with Prunes and Wine
Golden Horseradish
Fish in Tomato, Rhubarb, and Blood Orange Sauce
Mango and Sour Cherry Macaroon Crumble

We've just had pancakes for Shrove Tuesday, we're into the forty days of Lent, and Irish soda bread has been baked for St. Patrick's Day. This means it's time to start thinking about what to make for seder.

Or so a holiday- and food-minded ecumenical Jew like me is likely to be thinking. Fortunately, there are a number of excellent recently published Jewish cookbooks to turn to, including a guide I always recommend for beginners, Susan Friedland's The Passover Table; the comprehensive and masterly Book of Jewish Food, by Claudia Roden; and Jewish Cooking in America, by Joan Nathan. A new entrant makes no attempt to be definitive or to include every Jewish holiday dish. The Gefilte Variations, by Jayne Cohen, is directed at freewheeling, enthusiastic cooks like the author and both her parents, who frequently departed from a solidly traditional base depending on what they found at the market and how the mood struck them.

I like Cohen's voice -- academic, enthusiastic, warm, and familial all at once -- and her love of many kinds of food. I'm more than prepared to forgive a cookbook writer who knows to apologize for falling in love with that fad Mediterranean-diet ingredient, pomegranate molasses, and to try the applesauce (included here) for which she says it is essential.

I also like Cohen's common-sense approach toward matzohs, which go soggy and flat-tasting almost upon opening. Here are her notes on making them edible (reheat them to crisp), along with pragmatic and original instructions to make matzoh brie, that passe-partout Passover meal; a lovely variation on horseradish for the seder gefilte fish, colored not with beet juice but with carrot juice; a make-ahead main course -- fish in tomato, rhubarb, and blood-orange sauce, using spring ingredients; and a crumble that calls for the perhaps too up-to-the-minute mango but makes use of those macaroons in a tin that "proliferate like wire coat hangers from the dry cleaners," as Cohen writes. Now if only we could think of a similarly satisfactory way to say goodbye to those matzoh boxes.

    -- Corby Kummer

That is why I was not surprised when a grocer in Brooklyn's Syrian-Jewish neighborhood suggested it as a substitute for the rather difficult-to-find temerhindi, or ourt, a tangy sweet-and-sour sauce made from tamarind pulp, that I needed to prepare the Syrian meat rolls, Kibbe Gheraz. "Syrian Jews from Aleppo use ourt, and the ones from Damascus cook the same dishes with pomegranate molasses."

Whether he was right or not (it is slightly tarter and more berry-tasting than ourt), it worked well in the kibbe, and I have been adding it ever since -- to meat and chicken marinades, hummus, and even applesauce. Today it is stocked by many specialty stores, as well as Middle Eastern markets.

Cardamom and cinnamon play up the spicy notes in the pomegranate molasses here, making this a delicious complement to poultry and meats, especially briskets and pot roasts. It's also tempting plain, or just topped with a touch of yogurt cream or labneh.

1-2 cardamom pods, lightly crushed with the side of a knife or a kitchen mallet (use the larger amount for a more pronounced aromatic spiciness -- 1 pod will make a difference)	About 2 pounds flavorful apples, unpeeled, cored, and cut into chunks (6 cups) -- if you are going to puree the sauce in a food processor instead of using a food mill or strainer, peel the apples (choose a mixture of apples with sweet but complex flavors to echo the character of the sauce, such as Braeburn, Gala, Gravenstein, Grimes Golden, Northern Spy, and Stayman Winesap, rather than tart varieties; look for fresh, local apples if possible)
1 cinnamon stick	About 2 tablespoons pomegranate molasses or ourt, or to taste
About 1 1/2 cups pure, unsweetened apple juice	Salt

1. In a 6-quart Dutch oven or wide, heavy saucepan large enough to accommodate all of the apples, combine the juice, cardamom, cinnamon, and a generous pinch of salt. Boil uncovered, over high heat, until the liquid is reduced by about half. Add the apples, mix well to coat with juice, and simmer, covered, until very tender, about 25 minutes or so, depending on the variety of apples. Stir them from time to time and, if necessary, add a bit more juice to prevent sticking.

2. The sauce should be thick and pulpy with little liquid visible. If necessary, boil it down for a few minutes, uncovered. Pick out and discard the cardamom and cinnamon. Put the sauce through a food mill or force it through a colander or strainer to remove the skins. Or, if you used peeled apples, process in a food processor until smooth or leave somewhat chunky, according to preference.

3. Transfer the sauce to a bowl. Stir in 2 tablespoons pomegranate molasses or ourt and taste. Add a little more if you want the sauce tarter. (If this is your first time using pomegranate molasses or ourt, you may want to start with less.)

4. You can serve the sauce chilled, but it is also excellent at room temperature or warm from the pot with briskets, pot roasts, or latkes.

Cook's Note: You can use this recipe as a guide, omitting or supplementing the pomegranate molasses and spices with your own aromatic additions, like a strip of lemon, orange, or tangerine peel, a few prunes, or even peppercorns. Combine these seasonings with the juice -- or try a fruitier, unsweetened juice, such as cranberry- or raspberry-apple. Taste the finished sauce and adjust for sweetness.

One Passover spent in Paris, I ate thick matzoh, soft and crumbly as a cookie. In shops and restaurants in both the old ghetto area in the Marais and the newer North African-Jewish neighborhood surrounding the rue des Richers in the ninth arrondissement, I came across sweet varieties as well, prepared with wine, orange flower water, and sugar, tasting like exotic tea biscuits. They were, the boxes revealed, made from a secret family recipe from Oran, Algeria.

A sweltering August morning, strolling through Venice's Gheto Novo (New Ghetto, actually older than the Ghetto Vecchio, Old Ghetto, but that's another story), my husband, daughter, and I snacked on what looked like quilted pillows of intricate ivory Venetian lace. They were pane azimo, pale matzoh, soft like the ones we'd had in Paris, baked at Panificio Giovanni Volpe, which also offers, even in summer, sugar cookies, delicate macaroons, and other pane dolci, sweets made with matzoh meal.

Eating these thick, puffy matzohs, I recalled the many Italian and French Passover recipes that specified thick or thin matzoh, and understood how Italian Jews who could not bear to go without their pasta might attempt to re-create lasagne with Venetian-style matzoh.

For Eastern European Jews, though, the best matzoh is the thinnest. In Abraham Reisen's story, "Matza for the Rich," the bakery workers expect a generous tip from the town's wealthy dowager for matzoh that is thin, crackly, and "comes out as if baked in the sun." Notwithstanding their plainness, when served hot and crisp, these familiar Ashkenazi matzohs can be quite tasty.

Hot is the operative word here, for hot matzoh -- like hot bread -- is an amalgam of wonderful toasty flavors and aromas. Watching schmura matzoh (the special matzoh handmade from wheat that is carefully watched over from the time it is harvested) being prepared by the Hasidic Lubavitcher community in Brooklyn, I was captivated by the tantalizing smells of the freshly baked matzoh. And straight from the scorching, wood-fired ovens, they were a marvel: gloriously toasty and crisp.

But when I brought the box home, the matzoh had dulled to a lackluster taste -- they had more flavor than the packaged variety, but not much. I've learned to reheat matzohs to recrisp them as well as to recapture that fresh from the oven flavor.

Preheat the oven to 400°F. Wet the matzoh lightly on both sides with cold water (a few spritzes from a water spray bottle is perfect for this). Toast on an oven rack until dry and crisp, 3-5 minutes.

Matzoh, so central to Passover that it is often called Hag ha-Matzot or Festival of Matzohs, is served in place of bread or crackers during the full eight days of the holiday. The plain variety contains just flour and water -- no fats, salt, sugars, additives, or preservatives -- so you can use them to custom-design your own crackers, seasoning them with whatever you would try on flatbreads or crackers, and enjoy them not only on Passover, but throughout the year.

Use these suggestions as a guide. I'm sure you'll have many ideas of your own.

1. Sprinkle the top of dampened matzoh with coarse salt, and if desired, freshly ground coarse pepper, and/or chopped fresh rosemary or other herbs. Bake until dry and crisp.

2. Gently rub the cut side of a garlic clove or onion over the matzoh until the matzoh is slightly damp. (A couple of vertical slashes in the cut side will make the garlic or onion juices flow more easily so the matzoh won't break apart in the process.) Sprinkle or spritz with a few drops of water, dust with salt, optional pepper and herbs, such as thyme, rosemary, or oregano, and bake until dry and crisp.

3. Sprinkle hot matzoh with grated Parmesan, cheddar, or other cheese, grated lemon rind, and cracked pepper. Or sprinkle the seasoning on unheated matzoh and run briefly under the broiler.

4. Brush matzoh with melted or softened butter or extra-virgin olive oil. Season with salt and optional pepper, grated garlic or onion, chopped fresh or dried herbs. Or steep minced garlic or onion in oil for a while, then brush the oil on the matzoh, using sprigs of rosemary or other herbs as a brush. Bake at 400°F until hot and just beginning to brown, or toast under the broiler.

5. For a sweet matzoh, brush egg matzoh with melted butter and sprinkle with brown sugar and cinnamon. Place under the broiler until the sugar melts.

All else being equal, my favorite is the combination matzoh brie, known as scrambled egg-style: a jumble of buttery crisp, well-flavored, chewy, and creamy egg-rich pieces -- all in one mouthful.

When I merely want to soften the matzoh, I use cold water. Hot water leaches out the matzoh flavor. When I want a liquid, like apple juice, to impart flavor as well as soften, I often warm it first so it is better absorbed.

For crisp, French toast-style matzoh brie: Soak the matzoh in cold water just long enough to soften it, then gently but thoroughly press out the liquid with your hands, or place in a colander and press with the back of a spoon. Heat a generously greased, heavy, well-seasoned, preferably cast-iron, skillet, rather than a nonstick one. Add the matzoh all at once to the hot, sizzling pan, and spread it out in a thin layer. (If necessary, fry in batches: if you fry too much at once, it won't be crisp.) Fry over medium to medium-high heat until browned on the bottom. Now decide whether you want to keep the matzoh brie in one piece -- it will be more attractive, certainly, but rather tricky to do, perhaps more trouble than this homey dish calls for. To keep the matzoh in one piece, try using two spatulas to carefully flip it. Or turn it like a frittata; that is, slide it out onto a platter, and then invert the platter over the skillet. Or cook it in batches in a smaller skillet, so it will be easier to flip. If looks don't count, simply cut it in half or in quarters and turn each piece using two spatulas.

For fried pancakelike matzoh brie: Soak the matzoh in cold water until it is quite soft, almost falling apart. Squeeze out as much liquid as you can with your hands, or place in a colander and press with the back of a spoon. Then stir in the eggs and beat well until the mixture is well combined. Drop the batter by heaping tablespoonfuls into the hot, greased skillet, flatten slightly with a spatula, and fry, flipping once, over medium to medium-high heat until browned on both sides.

For either fluffy or combination (scrambled egg-style) matzoh brie: Soak the matzoh in cold water until soft but not mushy, and gently press out moisture. The less liquid it holds, the more egg it will absorb and the fluffier it will be. Let the matzoh drink in the beaten eggs for about ten minutes or longer to produce the fluffiest matzoh brie. (The egg may or may not be completely absorbed by the matzoh -- it will not matter.) Use either a large, heavy, well-seasoned skillet or a nonstick one (nonstick would be preferable if the matzoh brie contains dried fruit, such as raisins or prunes). Add the matzoh mixture all at once to the hot, greased pan. Spread it out evenly, and let it cook over medium heat until it is set and golden on the bottom. Now you have a choice: For attractive matzoh brie, resembling a frittata, turn the matzoh in one piece or cut the matzoh brie into halves or quarters and then turn to brown each section. Cook until still fluffy inside or more well-done, as you prefer. Known as scrambled egg-style, your alternative is matzoh brie that is homelier, but more varied in texture and taste. After the bottom is set, break the matzoh brie into sections with the spatula. Keep lifting and turning the sections as they brown until you have a superb melange of lightly crisp, chewy, moist, and fluffy pieces. Don't overcook the matzoh brie or it will be dry and hard.

But, as Cara De Silva points out in her remarkable book, In Memory's Kitchen, such fierce cultural pursuits were also a form of revolt. As the Nazis tried to dehumanize them, the children produced poetry and art (later collected in a book, I Never Saw Another Butterfly). While the Nazis systematically blotted out their culture, the Jews of Terezin taught philosophy and circulated tens of thousands of books in a camp lending library. And they transcended their hunger by "cooking with the mouth" -- talking constantly about food -- and writing cookbooks. In Memory's Kitchen, "a memoir of life in Terezin, written in recipes," is not the only cookbook to come out of the concentration camps. According to Cara De Silva, there are five more that she knows of, and certainly others exist.

Cocooned in a warm Amtrak berth coming home from the Holocaust Museum in Washington, I read De Silva's description of one of these manuscripts, authored by Malka Zimmet, an inmate in a work sub-camp of Mauthausen. She mentioned a matzoh brie with wine and prunes, and I conjured up the dish and the vanished life that had savored it. I haven't seen the recipe yet -- the manuscript is in Yad Vashem, Israel's repository of Holocaust research -- so I made up my own version, cooked scrambled egg-style.

The interplay of tastes and textures -- crisp, tender, and eggy matzoh pieces sandwiching tart-sweet juicy prunes -- made this an instant family favorite. It is even better with a dollop of sour cream or yogurt, which underscores the richness of the prunes.

2 cups unsweetened apple juice, or 1 1/4 cups unsweetened concord grape juice	3/4 cup traditional sweet Jewish wine or Concord grape juice
1 1/2 cups pitted prunes, halved or quartered if large	1 1/2 teaspoons brown sugar
1 teaspoon vanilla extract	4 large eggs
4 whole plain matzohs	3 tablespoons unsalted butter
1 teaspoon ground cinnamon	1/4 teaspoon salt, or to taste
Accompaniments: plain yogurt, yogurt cream, or sour cream; if additional sweetening is desired, maple syrup, preserves, or honey

1. Prepare the prunes. In a medium saucepan, boil the apple juice over high heat, until reduced to about 1 1/4 cups (if using grape juice, warm it without reducing). Add the prunes and vanilla and cook over medium heat until very tender, 10-15 minutes. You should have no more than about 1/4 cup of liquid left in the pan; if needed, reduce the liquid for a few minutes over high heat.

2. Meanwhile, break the matzohs into small pieces in a bowl. Sprinkle with 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon and the salt. Pour the wine or grape juice over the matzohs and stir until all the liquid is absorbed. Beat the eggs until light and foamy and add to the matzoh mixture. Stir well and set aside for a few minutes to soak the matzohs (the eggs will not be totally absorbed). In a small bowl, combine the remaining 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon and the brown sugar and set aside.

3. Please read "Making Matzoh Brie" and choose the cooking style you prefer. In a 10- to 12-inch heavy skillet (preferably nonstick -- the sugar from the prunes will make this matzoh brie somewhat sticky) heat the butter until it sizzles. Add the matzoh and egg mixture all at once. As it begins to set and brown, break it up into largish pieces with a spatula, turning and browning them on both sides. Spoon the stewed prunes and their liquid over the cooked matzoh brie, as a topping. Or you can incorporate the prunes into the matzoh brie: when the matzoh brie is nearly browned, add the prunes and their liquid. Continue lifting and turning until all the matzoh pieces are golden brown and well-combined with the prunes. If you prefer a fluffier matzoh brie, lightly fry the matzoh sections until just cooked through on all sides, adding the prunes about halfway through the cooking process.

4. Sprinkle with the cinnamon sugar. Top with plain yogurt or, if you prefer something richer, yogurt cream or sour cream. It really needs no additional sweetening, but if you wish, serve it with maple syrup, preserves, or honey.

1/3 cup peeled carrots, cut into small chunks	About 1 teaspoon salt
Enough fresh horseradish root, peeled, to yield about 1 cup when grated (about 2 cups of peeled chunks)	1/2 cup fresh carrot juice (see Cook's Note)
About 1/4 cup cider vinegar	Sugar (optional)

1. In a small saucepan, boil the carrots in lightly salted water until very tender. Drain and rinse with cold water until cool. Pat dry and set aside.

2. Place horseradish in a food processor and grind until coarsely grated. With the machine on, add through the feed tube 1/4 cup vinegar, I teaspoon salt, and 1/4 cup of the carrot juice. Continue processing just until the horseradish is finely grated but not reduced to a puree. Averting your face when removing the processor lid (to avoid the noxious fumes), scrape down the bowl. With the machine on, add the cooked carrots, alternating with the remaining 1/4 cup carrot juice. Remembering again to avert your face, transfer the contents (including the liquid) to a bowl. Mix very well, cover tightly, and refrigerate for at least 3 hours so the flavors mingle.

3. Stir well and if needed, adjust the vinegar and salt before serving. The combination of the cooked carrot and carrot juice brings a delicate, vegetal sweetness to the sauce without added sugar. If you prefer a sweeter-tasting sauce, add a pinch or two of sugar.

Store in a tightly covered glass jar. Serve leftover sauce with beef or mix with mayonnaise for cold poultry; combined with mayonnaise or sour cream it is a perfect foil for richly flavored poached, smoked, or fried fish.

Cook's Note: If you cannot get fresh carrot juice, boil down the carrot cooking water until reduced to 1/4 cup. Let it cool, then substitute it for the juice in the recipe. (Since the cooking water is thinner and not as deeply flavored as the carrot juice, using an equal quantity of it would dilute the taste of the sauce too much.)

Golden horseradish marries well with a little freshly grated ginger. Add the ginger to taste when first grating the horseradish.

SAUCE

3 Medium blood oranges (if not available, substitute 2 large, juicy navel oranges)	2 cups (about 1 pound) canned, peeled plum tomatoes, coarsely chopped, and 1/2 cup of their liquid
2 tablespoons olive oil	Juice of 1/2 lemon
2 cups finely chopped onions
1 1/2 teaspoons fresh ginger, peeled and finely minced	FISH
About 1 tablespoon orange blossom or other light floral honey	3 pounds fish fillets or steaks (choose salmon or white-fleshed fish like red snapper, grouper, sea bass, halibut, cod, lemon, or gray sole)
Salt and freshly ground black pepper	If steaming the fish, mild lettuce or cabbage leaves
1 pound rhubarb, trimmed, fibrous strings removed with a vegetable peeler	Garnish: 1/3-1/2 cup finely minced fresh mint leaves
Generous pinch of cinnamon	1 cup fresh orange juice

1. Start the sauce. With a vegetable peeler, remove a long strip of zest from one of the oranges. Put it in a small saucepan with water to cover, and bring to a boil. Drain, rinse, and pat it dry. Mince the zest fine. Peel 2 of the blood oranges (or 1 1/2 of the navel oranges), removing all of the bitter white pith and any seeds. Slice the oranges into chunks using a serrated knife. Set the orange zest and chunks aside. (You will be using the remaining blood orange, or half navel orange, to garnish the finished dish.)

2. In a 10-inch heavy skillet, warm the oil over moderate heat. Add the onions, and cook, stirring, for 5 minutes until they are shiny and lightly softened. Add the minced orange zest, ginger, and 1 teaspoon of the honey. Sprinkle lightly with salt and pepper. Continue cooking over low heat, stirring occasionally, until the onions are pale gold and very soft and sweet, 15-20 minutes.

3. While the onions are cooking, prepare the rhubarb. Cut it into 1-inch chunks and place it in a medium saucepan. Add 1/2 cup of the orange juice, the remaining 2 teaspoons of honey, the cinnamon, and a pinch of salt. Bring the mixture to a boil, then simmer, stirring occasionally, until the rhubarb is very tender, 6-8 minutes.

4. When the onions are ready, add the remaining 1/2 cup orange juice to the skillet and boil the mixture, stirring and scraping it so it does not burn, for 3-4 minutes, until the liquid evaporates and the onions are deep golden. Stir in the tomatoes and their liquid and cook over moderately high heat until they break up, about 10 minutes. Add the rhubarb mixture to the sauce, and cook over moderate heat for 5 minutes. Add the reserved orange chunks, and simmer for 5-7 minutes, until the sauce is thickened and the flavors well-blended. Season to taste with salt and pepper and some of the lemon juice. Taste again and, if needed, add additional honey or lemon juice until you reach your perfect sweet-and-sour balance.

5. Let the sauce cool to room temperature, then cover and refrigerate it for at least 12 hours or up to three days to blend the flavors.

6. Prepare the fish, either poaching or steaming it.

To poach the fish: In a deep, lidded skillet or sauté pan large enough to hold the fish in a single layer (if preparing several thin fillets, you will probably need to cook them in batches), bring 3 inches of water and salt and pepper to taste to a boil. Reduce the heat to a bare simmer, lower the fish into the water, and cover the pan. Poach until the fish is just cooked through, 6-12 minutes, depending on the variety and thickness of the fish.

To steam the fish: In a heavy, large, wide pot, like a 5- to 6-quart Dutch oven, add water to a depth of 1 1/2 to 2 inches. Arrange a rack in the pan that stands at least 1 inch above the water. (If your rack's legs are not high enough, set it over 2 custard cups or empty tuna cans.) Bring the water to a boil. Line the rack with a layer of mild lettuce (iceberg or Boston, for example) or cabbage leaves, then place the fish on top in a single layer (if cooking thin fillets, you will probably have to steam the fish in batches). The leaf "bed" for the fish gentles the steam and prevents the cooked fish from falling through the rack as you try to lift it out. Reduce the heat to medium, cover the pot and steam until the fish is just cooked through, 6-12 minutes, depending on the variety and thickness of the fish.

To test the fish for doneness: Insert a thin-bladed knife in the thickest part. The fish should be opaque or show a slight bit of translucence, according to your preference.

7. Remove the fish to paper toweling or a clean kitchen towel (unscented by detergent) to drain, then carefully transfer it to a serving platter. Peel off any skin on the fish. You can serve the fish warm, cool it to room temperature, and if desired, cover and chill it until cold. Blot up any liquid the fish may have thrown off. Spoon a generous amount of the sauce over the fish, reserving the rest.

Or prepare the fish ahead when you make the sauce. Follow the above directions for cooking, cooling, and saucing the fish. Cover and chill the fish for at least 12 hours and up to 2 days. Serve the fish room temperature, chilled (but not icy cold), or reheat it gently and serve it warm.

8. Just before serving, blot up any additional liquid exuded by the fish. Cut the remaining blood orange (or half navel orange) into very thin slices. Tuck the slices around the fish and sprinkle lavishly with the chopped mint. Pass a sauceboat with the remaining sauce (heated through, if serving the fish warm).

Cook's Note: The leftover sauce is also wonderful with poached or grilled chicken.

1 cup amaretto	1 1/2 cups macaroons (homemade or commercial variety), crumbled
1 large, ripe mango, peeled, pitted, and cut into small chunks (1 1/2-1 3/4 cups)	1/2 cup almonds, lightly toasted and coarsely chopped
1 cup canned, pitted sour cherries packed in water (8 ounces), drained	Pinch of salt
2 tablespoons dried cherries or dried cranberries	3 tablespoons unsalted butter or margarine, cut into bits, plus additional for greasing the pan
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg, preferably freshly grated	Optional accompaniment: vanilla ice cream
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon

1. Preheat the oven to 375°F. In a small saucepan, reduce the amaretto to 1/2 cup over medium-high heat. Combine the mango, sour cherries, dried cherries or cranberries, nutmeg, and cinnamon in a bowl. Pour the hot amaretto over the fruit and stir with a wooden spoon to coat evenly. Set aside for about 30 minutes to macerate.

2. If the macaroons are very moist, toast them lightly on a baking sheet for 5-10 minutes, then let cool. Or leave them out overnight to dry until they are crumbly. Chop the macaroons by hand or in a food processor using the pulse motion. Transfer to a bowl and mix with the almonds and salt. Work in the butter with your fingers until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs.

3. Butter an 8- to 10-inch glass or ceramic pie pan or similar ovenproof dish. Spoon the fruit and accumulated juices into the prepared pan. Scatter the macaroon mixture evenly on top. Bake for 25-35 minutes, or until the fruit is bubbling and the topping is golden brown. Serve warm or cold, topped, if desired, with vanilla ice cream.

Cook's Note: Here are some other ways to use macaroons:

Old-fashioned Biscuit Tortoni: Pack softened ice cream (some suggestions: vanilla, coffee, cherry vanilla) into paper cups. Sprinkle the tops generously with crushed macaroon crumbs and press in firmly. Or fold some crushed macaroons into the softened ice cream, then top with additional crushed macaroons. Wrap tightly with plastic wrap and freeze until solid, at least 2 hours.

Italian-style baked fruit: Lightly sweeten pear or peach halves. (If peaches are not flavorful -- they are out of season in spring -- slice them with equal amounts of mango.) Combine crumbled macaroons with some butter and stuff the fruit halves with the mixture (or flatten the mixture into disks and place over the sliced fruit). Place the fruit in a baking dish, and sprinkle with toasted almonds. Add a few tablespoons of white grape juice or other sweet fruit juice or wine to the pan to keep the fruit moist and prevent it from sticking, and bake until the fruit is tender and juicy, basting occasionally with the pan liquid.

Stir crushed macaroons into fruit compotes.

Bake finely crushed macaroons until dry and use for cookie crumb crusts -- especially good for cheesecake or ice cream pies.