I’ve had this recipe in the hopper for a few weeks, thinking I’d stagger it out and share it with you in a bit as we’re traveling to see family back East. But yesterday on the drive back from the Adirondacks to my mom’s house in Vermont, we saw a handful of crimson leaves and signs for cider donuts and I thought: Now Is The Time. I hope you still have some fresh corn where you are and some late summer berries because this incredibly simple late summer fruit crisp is the best thing I’ve baked this season. Let’s talk about it.
I subscribe to a few food magazines and have an odd, inefficient system when a recipe catches my attention: I fold down the page first and then toss the magazine aside somewhere. Eventually I go back through, tearing out the pages I folded down and recycling the rest of the magazine. Then at long last, the little snipped recipes get filed away in a haphazard binder and I generally forget all about them. I try to keep like with like, so cookies are together with bars, and there’s a little biscuit section. I have a few pages on making the best two-day meat ragu in case a large chunk of time should open up in a day in which I’d find myself inspired to do so (this has yet to occur). But a few recipes remain in my lingering seasonal memory, and this is one of them.
This Berry Corn Crisp from Bon Appetit caught my eye first for its simplicity and second thanks to the interesting addition of fresh corn in the cornmeal topping. I knew I could tweak it, adding some whole grain flour, cutting back on the sugar a bit and throwing in some ripe September peaches.
It was quite warm in Seattle the week leading up to our trip, and turning on the oven to bake a crisp wasn’t something I would’ve advised. But once it cooled, Sam deemed this the best fruit dessert I’d ever made and we had it with ice cream for dinner sitting outside deadheading the roses, watering the lawn, and noticing the changing light.
A simple late summer dessert, this crisp is not too sweet so it doubles as breakfast in our house. To mix things up, use any berries you’d like — or really, any mix of fruit. I think the crisp is best the day it’s made but you can certainly make it up to 1 day in advance. If you don’t have spelt flour, feel free to use whole wheat pastry or whole wheat flour instead.
Adapted from: Bon Appetit
For the filling:
For the Crust:
Toss blueberries, peaches, sugar, lemon juice and zest, cornstarch and salt into a shallow 2-quart baking dish. Set aside.
Preheat oven to 375 F. Whisk together flour, cornmeal, sugar and salt in a medium bowl. Using your hands, work butter into dry ingredients until there aren’t any dry spots of flour left and mixture holds together when squeezed (ok if it’s a bit chunky). Add corn and toss to evenly distribute. Press topping between your fingers and break into large pieces over the filling.
Bake crisp until topping is golden brown and juices are bubbling, 50-60 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack to cool for 30 minutes before serving. Serve warm or room temperature with vanilla ice cream, if you’d like. Crisp can be made 1 day ahead; store covered at room temperature.
It turns out that returning from a sunny honeymoon to a rather rainy, dark stretch of Seattle fall hasn't been the easiest transition. Sam and I have been struggling a little to find our groove with work projects and even simple routines like cooking meals for one another and getting out of the easy daily ruts that can happen to us all. When we were traveling, we made some new vows to each other -- ways we can keep the fall and winter from feeling a bit gloomy, as tends to happen at a certain point living in the Pacific Northwest (for me, at least): from weekly wine tastings at our neighborhood wine shop to going on more lake walks. And I suppose that's one of the most energizing and invigorating parts about travel, isn't it? The opposite of the daily rut: the constant newness and discovery around every corner. One of my favorite small moments in Italy took place at a cafe in Naples when I accidentally ordered the wrong pastry and, instead, was brought this funny looking cousin of a croissant. We had a wonderfully sunny little table with strong cappuccino, and, disappointed by my lack of ordering prowess, I tried the ugly pastry only to discover my new favorite treat of all time (and the only one I can't pronounce): the sfogliatelle. I couldn't stop talking about this pastry, its thick flaky layers wrapped around a light, citrus-flecked sweet ricotta filling. It was like nothing I'd ever tried -- the perfect marriage of interesting textures and flavors. I became a woman obsessed. I began to see them displayed on every street corner; I researched their origin back at the hotel room, and started to look up recipes for how to recreate them at home. And the reason for the fascination was obviously that they were delicious. But even more: I'm so immersed in the food writing world that I rarely get a chance to discover a dish or a restaurant on my own without hearing tell of it first. And while a long way away from that Italian cafe, I had a similar feeling this week as I scanned the pages of Alice Medrich's new book, Flavor Flours, and baked up a loaf of her beautiful fall pumpkin loaf: Discovery, newness, delight!
I always force myself to wait until after Halloween to start thinking much about holiday pies or, really, future holidays in general. But this year I cheated a bit, tempted heavily by the lure of a warmly-spiced sweet potato pie that I used to make back when I baked pies for a living in the Bay Area (way back when). We seem to always have sweet potatoes around as they're one of Oliver's favorite foods, and when I roast them for his lunch I've been wishing I could turn them into a silky pie instead. So the other day I reserved part of the sweet potatoes for me. For a pie that I've made hundreds of times in the past, this time reimagined with fragrant brown butter, sweetened solely with maple syrup, and baked into a flaky kamut crust. We haven't started talking about the Thanksgiving menu yet this year, but I know one thing for sure: this sweet potato pie will make an appearance.
This time last week I was up in the Skagit River Valley sitting in the early fall sun eating wood-fired bagels and chatting with farmers, millers and bakers at the Kneading Conference West. I made homemade soba noodles, learned the ins and outs of sourdough starters, and sat in on a session where we tasted crackers baked with single varietal wheats. It was like wine tasting, but with wheat and the whole time I kept pinching myself, thinking: THESE ARE MY PEOPLE! I don't get the opportunity to be a student much these days -- usually on the other side of things teaching cooking classes or educating people at the farmers markets about whole grains and natural sugars. So to just sit and listen with a fresh (red!) notebook and a new pen was surprisingly refreshing. I miss it already. Thankfully, this cookie recipe has come back as a memorable souvenir, and one that is sure to be in high rotation in our house in the coming months.
Strolling New York City streets during the height of fall when all the leaves are changing and golden light glints off the brownstone windows. This is what I envisioned when I bought tickets to attend my cousin's September wedding earlier this month: Sam and I would extend the trip for a good day or two so we could experience a little bit of fall in the city. We'd finally eat at Prune and have scones and coffee at Buvette, as we always do. Sam wanted to take me to Russ and Daughters, and we'd try to sneak in a new bakery or ice cream shop for good measure. Well, as some of you likely know, my thinking on the weather was premature. New York City fall had yet to descend and, instead, we ambled around the city in a mix of humidity and rain. When we returned home I found myself excited about the crisp evening air, and the fact that the tree across the street had turned a rusty shade of amber. It was time to do a little baking.
I am writing this on Saturday afternoon on a day when we had big plans to conquer pre-baby chore lists, but Sam's not feeling great and my energy's a little low so it hasn't been quite what we'd envisioned. My goals for the morning were to repot a house plant and make some soup and I've done neither. I will say that the sweet potato and fennel are still sitting on the counter eagerly awaiting their Big Moment -- it just hasn't come about quite yet. Sam and I were both going to attempt to install the carseat, but it started to look really daunting so we abandoned ship; it's now sitting proudly in the basement, also eagerly awaiting its Big Moment. So it's been one of those weekends -- the kind you look back on and wonder what it is you actually accomplished. At the very least, I get the chance to tell you about this hearty cranberry cornbread. I know maybe it feels premature in the season for cranberry recipes, but hang with me here: slathered with a little soft butter and runny honey, there's nothing I'd rather eat right now on the cool, crisp Seattle mornings we've been having lately.