Cherry Jubilee x2
Before we begin, let me tell you something truly wild: growing up in the ’90s, Brazil had a full-blown obsession with cherries made out of chuchu (chayote squash). I’m not making this up. Many bakeries and pastry shops, trying to cut costs and deal with seasonal shortages, turned to that convincing imposter. Carved pieces of chuchu would be dyed in bright red syrup, making them resemble cherries in syrup. Perhaps Amarena?
That sugary, slightly crunchy "cherry" became the standard topping on birthday cakes across the country, and for many of us, it was the only “cherry” we knew. A clever and thrifty stand-in, born out of necessity. You’ll find it in so many photos sitting on top of my childhood birthday cakes.
And what kid wasn’t fascinated with cherries? Always wanting the one on top of the sundae, or the cake? I sure was. Probably even more because I didn’t get to taste a real one until I was an adult. When my parents started making a little more money and we got to be more adventurous with things that arrived in our occasional eats, such as pistachios, sparkling water, white chocolate, etc, Maraschinos made occasional appearances in our tiny kitchen in the hot and humid Amazon. But the real deal? A fresh cherry? Oh, that was the stuff of dreams.
And glued to the TV, as any good ’90s kid would be, I watched cooking shows with wide eyes. Cherries always seemed to signal elegance to me. Whether spooned over cheesecakes, baked into glossy tarts, or encased in gelatin molds, they felt almost too fancy for real life. I still remember one time I almost cried (you know I’ve been obsessed with food since a tender age, mon ami) watching a famous cooking show that still airs today. It was the first time I saw a Black Forest Gâteau. The grand, magnificent use of cherries! The idea of not getting to taste that magical creation any time soon was torture.
To this day, when I am allowed to pick my birthday cake flavor, rest assured Black Forest it is.
“Jubilee,” however, wasn’t a word I associated with cherries until I moved to the United States. In fact, I first heard of Cherry Jubilee thanks to Cherry Bombe Jubilee, an annual event for women in food that has become so dear to my heart. A sweeter coincidence I cannot imagine.
As I followed the trail of Cherry Jubilee's name, so curious, mind you, I landed in 1897, when Auguste Escoffier created the dessert in honor of Queen Victoria’s Diamond Jubilee on June 22. She was famously fond of cherries, and he celebrated her with a dish that was festive, elegant, and theatrical: cherries poached in syrup, flambéed with kirsch, and served in individual timbales.
Here’s the original recipe, as written in A Guide to Modern Cookery:
Jubilee Cherries
Stone some fine cherries; poach them in syrup, and set them in small silver timbales. Reduce the syrup and thicken it with a little arrowroot, diluted with cold water—allowing one tablespoon of arrowroot per half-pint of syrup. Cover the cherries with the thickened syrup, pour a coffee-spoonful of heated Kirsch into each timbale, and set alight when serving.
It sounds modest, but once you taste flambéed cherries, you understand. As with most flambéed fruits, there’s something timeless and deeply French about it. Simple to execute, yet requiring finesse. The cherries must be perfectly ripe, ideally summer-sweet. And there’s a bit of performance in setting it aflame, a kind of old-world showmanship that predates nouvelle cuisine.
Julia Child also included Cerises Jubilée in The French Chef Cookbook, after the dessert made a memorable appearance on her TV show. Its popularity was unmistakable. Though I never encountered the dessert in France, I did find it last year on the menu of a little diner in San Francisco, toward the end of summer. I ordered it, of course, I needed to experience it outside of my own kitchen. It was divine.
So I made a mental note: next summer, when cherries return to Southern California in all their glory, I’ll make my own version. I’d pour it generously over a blank canvas of really good ice cream.
Feel free to jump straight to the recipe at the end of this newsletter—no hard feelings!
And then summer came, and with it, the most lovely invitation from my partners at California Prunes: to attend the Cherry Bombe Jubilee. To me, it’s the best food event of the year, a gathering of inspiring women, energy, and community. Even in challenging years like this one, it feels like a refresh.
But this year, the invite came with something even more special, with a little cherry on top. My friend K.C. Cornwell, the brilliant creative force behind so much of California agriculture’s scene, called:
“We’re hosting the Cherry Bombe x California Prunes Jubilee Pink Carpet this year. Would you like to be our host?”
My absolute first thought: YES!
My second thought? YES! And then… wait, are you sure you want me? Someone whose first language isn’t English… to host a red carpet… where the entire job is asking questions in English?
But still, yes. A big, terrified, heart-thumping YES. Because it was one of the most exciting opportunities of my career. And because I still couldn’t believe they’d chosen me.
Also, we'd be handing out limited-edition California Prunes x Jenny Lemons hair clips, no less. Honestly, irresistible.
So off we went to New York City in early spring. I was so nervous, of course I was! Was I going to ask the right questions? Would I remember anyone’s name? Would I trip over my words… or worse, my own feet? Could I pull this off without accidentally speaking in Portuguese halfway through an interview?
Honestly, I wasn’t sure. But I packed the courage of my convictions, my best outfit, a very strong deodorant, and hoped for the best.
Then I remembered everything I’d already faced and overcome. The fears I carried with me from my little forest village in a corner of this wide crazy world all the way to this moment. So I walked into the Big Apple armed with that same courage, and, excuse me for always being so extra, a fabulous Rachel Antonoff prune-colored jumpsuit and a pair of Boden Cherry Heels.
By my side through it all, my cohost and cherry-on-top companion, the best partner I could have ever asked for, was my dear friend Aida Mollenkamp. You might know her as a big Food Network star, but beyond that, she’s the most generous, grounded, and uplifting person to work alongside, and, honestly, one of the funniest too.
I also had so much to thank my loves Alison Needham and Becky Sue Wilberding, James Collier (the best filmmaker friend a girl could ask for), and Diana Losey. What a team!
As the day unfolded, the only thing running through my mind was: Thank goodness I said yes.
Because I got to meet, hug, and interview SO many brilliant people! I stood in a room filled with hope, passion, and creativity: people who truly show up for one another. I listened to voices like Padma Lakshmi, Asma Khan, Angie Mar… and yes, Gloria Steinem. Gloria Steinem!
And I got to hug Dorie Greenspan very tightly.
If you’ve been following this newsletter for a while (thank you from the bottom of my heart), you might already know that my food journey truly took off with Cherry Bombe back in late 2018. When my now dear friend and mentor Kerry Diamond read my pitch (and accepted it—crazy, I know!), she went way beyond just giving me a chance, she recognized I needed support and offered it freely, with genuine joy and no expectations in return. Since then, she and the incredible women she brought together at Cherry Bombe have lifted me up in ways I never could have imagined.
To say I love Cherry Bombe would be an understatement. It’s more than love: it’s gratitude, admiration, and a sense of belonging I never expected to find. And to say I love California Prunes, who not only believe in me but continue to open doors I once thought were locked to someone like me, is equally insufficient. These aren’t just partnerships; they’re lifelines. Constant reminders, through my work (which also happens to be my purpose), that I’m seen, supported, and trusted to grow into dreams I never even dared to speak aloud.
Support like this is a balm. It reminds me of what’s worth it.
One day you’re eating chayote ‘chucherries,’ the next you’re hosting the Cherry Bombe carpet. Sometimes life feels like a Pandora box, but instead of troubles, it's a box of chocolate-covered cherries :)
And maybe that’s what makes the word jubilee feel so perfect. It means celebration: joy, festivity, a triumph worth gathering for. That’s precisely how this moment feels to me.
So of course, I had to come up with a recipe. This is my Cherry-Prune Jubilee. Dare I say, one of my favorites of my career. A sweet celebration. And one of the most delicious, too!
🍒 🍒 ❤️❤️
That is a killer great outfit with the jumpsuit!