This is a dessert that begins at the market. Walk past the baked goods and the jams and find the farmer with berries that still smell like the field. Raspberries that stain your fingers when you touch them. Blueberries with that dusty bloom intact. Strawberries small enough to eat in one bite, warm from the sun.

The mousse itself is almost nothing. Fromage blanc folded with cream and a whisper of honey. That is all. The tang of fresh cheese against sweet summer fruit is one of those combinations that needs no improvement. I learned this in France, where dessert is often just fruit and cream, and where the applause goes to the farmer, not the cook.

Every meal is a meaningful choice. When you buy berries from someone who grew them, you are choosing a world where that farm continues to exist. The mousse will taste better for it. I cannot explain why, but it does.