Blackberry apricot crisp

In spite of my cake love, I do have eyes for other desserts.

There was that blueberry crostata recently. And then last weekend, there was a blackberry apricot crisp.

I admit, it's a bit much in the span of a few days. But in my defense, I had no intention of making this dessert. My original plan last friday, when we were hosting some friends for dinner, was to make the upside-down cake, but with apricots. I had all the ingredients ready, including a pyramid of rosy-hued apricots on the counter, when our guests offered to bring cupcakes from Miette. See ya later, apricots.

And then these lovely friends arrived not only with four gorgeous cupcakes, but with a little container of blackberries they had picked. What's a girl to do?

Well, first: wolf down delicately nibble a cupcake. Then: create something worthy of hand-picked blackberries, foraged by friends.

This whole idea of urban foraging (or in this case, suburban foraging) has become quite a thing. I myself have been eyeing the blackberry patch up at Tank Hill near our house, where they grow wild. I'm just waiting for them to reach the perfect state for plucking. In the meantime, Scott and Stephanie brought me blackberries from a bramble in Marin, where it's much sunnier and things ripen earlier.

I considered lush blackberry ice cream, or a simple blackberry sauce to go over ice cream (or roasted duck). In the end, I opted for blackberry apricot crisp, since I didn't want my apricots to go to waste. In addition to the surefire crostata I posted about recently, I have a nearly foolproof recipe for crisp that can be adapted for any fruit. I did once make it with rhubarb and strawberries, which turned out terribly. But I learned from that mistake, and this time, I added a little more tapioca to thicken the filling. That was just the ticket.

Here is the fruit, moments before a crumbly cinnamon and walnut topping rained down on it. If you don't feel like diving right in, you must be made of stone.

But it gets even better after the topping is sprinkled over and baked to golden goodness. At that point, the only thing that can improve the dessert is vanilla ice cream, which, it must be said, can improve just about anything.

And there you are. Thanks to the kindness of friends, summer in a bowl.

Blackberry apricot crisp

Adapted from Baking Illustrated

Topping:

6 T. flour

1/4 c. light brown sugar

1/4 c. granulated sugar

1/4 t. cinnamon

1/4 t. ground ginger

1/4 t. salt

5 T. cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2" pieces

3/4 c. coarsely chopped walnuts

Filling:

5-6 cups of blackberries and apricots (apricots pitted and sliced)

1/2 t. lemon zest

juice of 1/2 a lemon

1/4 c. granulated sugar (or more or less to taste)

1 T. quick-cooking tapioca

Place flour, sugars, spices, and salt in a food processor and process briefly to combine. Add butter and pulse 10 times for about 4 seconds each pulse. The mixture will first look like dry sand, with large lumps of butter, then like coarse cornmeal. Add the nuts and process again, four or five 1-second pulses. The topping should now look like slightly clumpy wet sand. Be sure not to overmix or the mixture will become too wet and homogeneous. Refrigerate topping while preparing the fruit, at least 15 minutes.

Adjust an oven rack to the lower-middle position and heat the oven to 375.

Toss all filling ingredients together in a medium bowl, then pour into an 8-inch square baking pan (or pie plate, like I used). 

Distribute the chilled topping evenly over the fruit. Bake for 40 minutes. Turn the heat up to 400 and bake for another 5 minutes or until the fruit is bubbling and the topping turns deep golden brown. Serve warm.

An (im)perfect blueberry crostata

Occasionally, a recipe enters my life for which I am supremely grateful.

Sometimes it's because the recipe, exactly as it's written, is perfection, such as Marcella Hazan's roasted chicken with two lemons, or Baking Illustrated's chocolate chip cookies. These are two recipes I will make my whole life.

Other recipes I love because they teach me a technique which I can then adapt to suit my whim. The raspberry buttermilk cake I've written about many a time is one such recipe. It's a good recipe--not necessarily a great one--but a good one that has simple ingredients, makes the right-sized cake for our household, and can take almost any kind of fruit, no matter what the season. The crostata I made recently is another such recipe.

I discovered it years ago and originally made it as written, with apples. But then I got tired of apples, so I moved on to pears. Pears gave way to pears-and-cranberries, which lead to straight-up cranberry crostata, and this week, I made it with blueberries.

I love the dough for two reasons: it comes together rapidly, and since it's a crostata, it's free-form. Maybe because I'm the daughter of an artist, or maybe because I lack the technical skills, I don't like rolling things out into perfect circles and tucking them tidily into pans. I like keeping it a little earthy and rustic. I'm OK with crust that's oblong instead of round, and 1/8" in some places and 1/4" in others. No one will ever accuse me of being a perfectionist, which is fine with me, because while I kind of admire perfectionists, as they seem so disciplined and focused while I'm haphazard and bedraggled, with flour on my face and blueberry juice on my t-shirt, I sometimes feel a little sorry for them too. There's something wonderful about embracing and not judging the messy but delicious results of your hard work.

I've found you can add nearly anything to the filling and even wing the amount of fruit, as long as you don't add too much. I've gotten overzealous with piling the fruit too high before and it's resulted in a runny crostata. Not only does this lead to a soggy crust, but it makes the pan a hassle to clean.

This time, I got it just right with the blueberries. I'm not sure how many I used. Maybe a couple of cups? I tossed them with a little sugar, lemon juice and zest, and a dash of almond extract. Simple, delicious, and summery.

I hope you try this recipe, using whatever fruit strikes your fancy. I don't think you'll be disappointed; after all, it's practically perfect.

Fettucine with asparagus, prosciutto, and smoked mozzarella

I made this Giada recipe the other night: spaghetti with prosciutto, asparagus, and smoked mozzarella.

Sounds great, right? It was speedy to throw together and contained some of my favorite ingredients. But after eating it for dinner, and then for lunch the next day, I still wasn't sure if I liked it or not.

The flavor was pretty good. But the jury is still out on smoked mozzarella. I can't believe I'm writing that. But ultimately, I prefer plain mozzarella. Preferably buffalo mozzarella. Well, let's lay it on the line: I like burrata best. Ever since I ate at Osteria Mozza in Los Angeles last year, I've been dreaming of the sublime burrata the husband and I devoured there. The whole dinner was divine but that cheese just floored me. In fact, I'm pretty sure any kind of last supper scenario would involve me eating a giant ball of that burrata and then dropping dead.

Anyway, admittedly, I made some changes to the recipe, but nothing major. For one thing, I bought cappellini by mistake instead of spaghetti. I don't know what other people use cappellini for, but to me it's useless. It's so thin, I just don't think it holds up to much. The husband doesn't care for it either. When I held up the box in dismay, he shook his head scornfully.

"It's so flimsy!" he said, scowling.

I agreed. Luckily I had some fettucine on hand. So, that was change #1.

Change #2 was that the recipe only called for 3/4 lb of pasta. Whenever a recipe says to do this, I go ahead and use a full pound. A few strands of leftover pasta rattling around in my pantry is ridiculous. I'd rather just use the full box. I realize this shifted the pasta-to-stuff ratio. But still, not a dramatic adjustment.

The pasta had potential, but seemed to be lacking something. Being a sauce hound, I wanted something liquid or creamy to bind the pasta together. Even the husband agreed, and he's usually not sauce crazy.

"Maybe some ricotta would help," he suggested. "You could also add some bacon. That would be good."

I like how we were talking about making the pasta moister and he brought up bacon. How can I not love this guy? Most people would think of cream, or a little tomato sauce--not another pork product. But I knew what he meant. Frying up bacon in place of the prosciutto would at least add some more oil to the pan.

I think in the end, I liked this recipe, but I felt it needed something more. I'm still ruminating on it. Any ideas? And next time I'm definitely using regular mozzarella.

Or maybe I'll just skip the pasta altogether, get myself a big ball of burrata, a baguette, and a bottle of wine. I'm pretty sure nothing could go wrong there.