ONCE UPON A time – last week – someone bequeathed to me a box of strawberries. Strawberries mean spring, of course; their bright fireworks red amid the last of winter's grays and greens and browns at farmers markets announces that a corner has been turned. They are good on their own (dipped into yogurt and then brown sugar) or in strawberry shortcake or as the fruit in a country fruit tart.

But I had no yogurt, nor shortcakes, nor time to make a tart crust. I had, instead, a container of strawberries that wouldn't last forever even in the refrigerator and a certain need for a bright, light dessert to finish a bright, light dinner. Before starting dinner, I had trimmed and quartered the strawberries, tossed them with a heaping tablespoon of granulated sugar, and let them stand in a bowl; within an hour or so they were bathing in their own syrup. With a splash of balsamic vinegar, they would be ready to spoon over some vanilla ice cream. But I had forgotten to buy vanilla ice cream.

In the past I have made my own ice creams. It isn't difficult to do this, but it is time-consuming, since the ice cream must be gently stirred while being gently frozen. When I say ice cream I include gelato, which derives much of its richness from egg yolks. I have made various gelati in my old Donvier device. But ... what if, instead of gently freezing your (more or less) gelato mixture, you gently cooked it instead? You would end up with something like zabaglione, or, as the French say, sabayon – a simple and elegant supersauce that pours quite nicely over a cup of macerated strawberries, to take a random example.

Like so many of the great preparations, zabaglione is basic and quick enough for emergency use and grand enough for company. You need some egg yolks (one per person results in a nice yield), an eighth of a cup of granulated sugar and perhaps a tablespoon of wine per yolk, and a pinch of salt. The traditional wine is marsala; I have sometimes seen champagne used. Sherry would do, I suspect. I had a bottle of vin santo at hand (Tuscan dessert wine) and plunged ahead.

Whisk the ingredients together, put them in a double boiler (with water simmering in the lower pot), and stir for a few minutes until the sauce thickens. Serve immediately by pouring over bite-sized fruit pieces in a goblet or parfait glass. Accept the oohs and aahs of your audience but maintain silence as to how little trouble you were actually put to. Good chefs never tell.