Over the summer I became infatuated with the English syllabub. Velvety and light, this simple dessert consists of only three ingredients—cream, sugar and a smidgen of alcohol. If you’re a traditionalist, you add sweet wine or cider. If you’re more of a rebel, you may include a splash of rum, brandy or any other liqueur or flavoring that strikes your fancy. Whip it all together and you’ve got an ambrosial syllabub. As winter creeps closer to my doorstep, I start to crave desserts heartier than flavored whipped cream. I still like the idea of a creamy treat that I can spoon into and out of elegant Moroccan tea glasses. However, instead of stuffing these delicate souvenirs with cream, I’m filling them with a far more common and filling Moroccan ingredient, yogurt, and a few other tasty things. The end result? The easy, dishy and delicious Pistachio Coconut Cream. Reminiscent of the English syllabub, Pistachio Coconut Creams feature yogurt whisked together with confectioner’s sugar, dried coconut and thick and sweetened cream of coconut. Don’t confuse cream …

This week I’ve got a great farmers’ market find—currants. In season from June to August, these petite relatives of the gooseberry come in three colors and two sizes. The smaller red and white berries possess a moderately sweet and tart taste and bright, glossy skin. The larger black currant is milder in flavor and duller in color but still has a visual and gustatory bite. All are high in pectin, making them rich in fiber and quick to gel. British cooks often turn red currants into jams, jellies and sauces. Pop a handful of these little guys into your mouth and you’ll see why. As small as they are, these berries are chocked full of seeds. Although I have munched on fresh currants, I find them far more enjoyable after they’ve been cooked, pureed and strained as the British do. Freed from the currants’ crunchy seeds, I’m left with a thick, ruby syrup that can be made into the aforementioned specialities or into a cotton candy pink sherbet, sorbet or ice cream. What’s the difference …

This seems to be my summer for foraged foods found on my friends Frank and Jane’s farm. First it was elderflowers. Now it’s wineberries. Never heard of wineberries? Until a few weeks ago, I hadn’t either. What I had done, though, was nibble on the small, scarlet, raspberry-like fruit on countless walks through the woods. Introduced to American soil in the 1890s, the prickly wineberry shrub flourishes along roadsides, in forests and fields and any other place with moist soil and moderate sunlight. Hence why I’ve encountered them on hikes and in thickets around Frank and Jane’s farm. The shrub’s firm, juicy berries resemble raspberries in flavor and appearance. They are, in fact, a type of raspberry. Their scientific name, Rubus phoenicolasius, means ‘raspberry with purple hairs,’ undoubtedly a reference to the hairy stems to which the berries cling. Bestowed with a bowl of these little berries, I wanted to use them in a dish that would show off their beautiful color and compact size. Putting them in a cake, pie, crumble or ice cream …

At one time, when I heard “elderflower cordial,” I imagined garden parties in the English countryside where formally attired guests sipped pale yellow drinks from elegant crystal goblets. In reality not once in my half dozen trips to England has anyone ever invited me to or mentioned attending such a soiree. Been offered a glass of chilled elderflower cordial? Nope. That hasn’t happened either. Until a few weeks ago I hadn’t thought much about consuming or even picking elderflowers. Then two old friends mentioned that they were making elderflower cordial from their farm’s elderberry trees. With that my visions of genteel garden parties and fancy drinks returned and I became intrigued by the flower’s culinary possibilities. Found throughout Europe, North America and Western Asia, elderberry trees bear clusters of tiny, edible, white flowers and small, blackish-purple berries. The latter get made into chutneys, jams, jellies, sauces, soups and wine while the former show up in cordials, teas, jellies, baked goods and, oddly enough, fritters. As you might expect, elderflowers impart a pleasant floral flavor to …