Brisson was inspired to lead a holiday baking class during one particularly lean Christmas when he made baked goods to give as gifts.

On a grey and wintry island day, the atmosphere inside Martha's Vineyard's acclaimed l'etoile restaurant is warm and festive. Gleaming silver pots and pans hang like elegant ornaments from ceiling racks inside the small, but well-organized kitchen where an eclectic and eager group have gathered to soak up the baking genius of chef and owner, Michael Brisson. Brisson offers cooking and baking workshops at the Edgartown restaurant throughout the off-season and this one is called "Holiday Baking." The chef has promised that we'll leave armed with knowledge, recipes, and cooking chops. He assures us that past baking disasters will not stop us from creating delicious pastries and candy to serve at parties, or give as gifts this holiday season.

Michael Brisson says that he did not grow up in a family with cherished holiday recipes. Coming from a large family where both parents worked full time, meals needed to be cheap, quick, and easy. "There was no cooking or baking at home as I was growing up. Food was treated as a bodily function," says Brisson. "When you're feeding a bunch of kids and making no money, you're just looking to get people fed. Dessert was usually a piece of white bread with sugar on it and a glass of milk—the most rustic version of bread pudding." The esteemed chef remembers being the only one in his family who would sit at the table and savor his meal and describes having frozen peas versus canned for the first time as an epiphany.

Although he says he was always fascinated by the experience of creating, cooking, and baking food, he understands that many of us are perplexed, even terrified by the baking process: the measuring and mixing, the kneading, temperature, and timing can be daunting. At his first job as a pizza parlor dishwasher, he tried to help make pizza. "I couldn't handle it," says Brisson of the seemingly complex process. "It blew my mind!"

When he is asked what his mission is when offering a workshop, Brisson speaks with feeling and compassion for the novice chefs. "I want to knock down the barriers that prevent people from feeling comfortable in the kitchen and help them learn that the most important ingredient when baking is love," he says. "The rest is just plain logic. It's a combination of chemistry and common sense." During the workshop he is so patient and reassuring that even the nervous bakers visibly relax.

He explains that his inspiration for our holiday baking workshop was personal. "This year, I didn't have money for a lot of fancy presents," he says. "I decided to make things by hand—to give something from the heart. I had all these leftover cranberries from Thanksgiving and I just started with those." The workshop participants agree that heartfelt gifts and saving money are as appealing as the recipes we are about to attempt.

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Brisson teaches us how to make an impressive list of goodies, including cranberry nut bread, peanut brittle, macadamia nut shortbread, and cranberry carambola compote. Mouths already watering, we don our aprons and gather round, four women ranging in experience from "I rarely bake" to "I'm comfortable in the kitchen." There is also one game husband who says he "likes to eat baked goods," and two well behaved seven-year-old boys.

First, Brisson advises us on the importance of "mise-en-place," having all your ingredients and tools pre-assembled and within easy reach. All his tips are practical and simple. Set up your recipe so you can easily view it while you're working. Once you know a recipe, you can alter certain ingredients to suit your taste. For example, the macadamia nuts in the shortbread can be switched with pistachios, the green of the pistachio adding a cheery seasonal touch. He explains that it is important to start out with all the ingredients at room temperature, except when making the shortbread, when the butter is best kept chilled.

We use a food processor to chop the fresh cranberries into a glorious ruby-colored paste and then set them aside. Brisson encourages us to measure and then sift the flour, baking powder, and soda for the cranberry quick bread. Pulse the butter into the dry ingredients; the mixture should resemble cornmeal. If you add some of the mashed cranberries to the liquid before putting everything together, you can intensify the color. Baking the bread in mini-loaf pans makes a sweet addition to a gift bag or basket—just shorten the baking time to 40 to 45 minutes.

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Next we move on to the shortbread. Using the food processor to grind the macadamia nuts, Brisson notes that you can add sugar to the nuts to increase their flavor, or switch to a soft mellow taste with pecans and a splash of dark rum. The rum makes the seven-year-old chefs wrinkle their noses. We discover that when making shortbread it is important to add the flour a little bit at a time. Cold water is placed nearby in case there is dry flour at the bottom of the bowl. Finally, we set the dough in the refrigerator to rest. Now it's time for the brittle.

Brisson shares some pointers for making successful candy brittle: buy a candy thermometer and resist the temptation to stir before adding the butter, which adds air to the liquid, causing crystallization and ruining the candy's texture. The unexpected addition of baking soda late in the process properly aerates the brittle "so it won't crack your teeth," Michael explains. He says that it's also important to have a clean surface like a greased sheet pan ready to spread the brittle on once it is cooked. Michael likes to stretch the brittle with his hands, but many of us found that method too hot to handle, opting for a utensil.

The conserve (or compote) is last. We've carefully boiled and sterilized several Ball jars. Once we have filled the jars with the hot fruit mixture, they are put back into a hot water bath, creating a seal when lids are added. Michael explains that compote is "looser than a jam." This delicious cranberry conserve can be used over yogurt or ice cream, or as a sweet and tangy accompaniment for roast meat. We slice carambola (star fruit) horizontally to decorate the compote with a festive star shape.

Michael urges us to taste a slice of carambola—the fruit is sweet and refreshing, a cross between a mango and orange. The recipe proportions will make approximately seven, 12-ounce jars. "Put a slice of carambola against the side of the jar as you pour in the liquid. See, it's beautiful," says Michael with a smile.

At the end of the workshop, we divvy up peanut brittle into small decorative bags, which we tie with bright ribbons. The shortbread is boxed and we add personalized labels to the jam jars, then wrap the bread. Our creations look lovely, but still homemade, and the kitchen smells divine. We all agree, this was a winter morning well-spent. Nicole, mom to one of the seven-year-old chefs, sums our confections up perfectly. "These all look very special, like love-filled care packages," she says. "And what a great project for a cold winter day!"

For recipes and future workshop information, go to www.l'etoile.net.

Elissa Lash is a freelance writer living on Martha's Vineyard.