Not editing, really. Finessing. Alcott may have mastered prose at the desk, but in the kitchen she was likely closer to Jo March, for whom the “bread burned black” and the “cream turned sour.” Making Apple Slump would be like cooking with Ms. Alcott’s domestically-challenged ghost, and while I cored and sliced I considered my years reading and rereading the March girls, picturing Amy’s limes, Meg’s vain high heels and lonely Jo in the attic with apples, writing and cursing scarlet fever, the villain that stole Beth. I regretted that my little tweaks – dash of vanilla, an extra apple – could not make Laurie come to his senses and dump Amy. Pecans would add crunch but they would never make Jo marry Laurie, nor bring Beth back. They’re a matter of personal taste, like my feelings about Meg wedding that dull John Brooke, and while they won’t change the story they can at least enhance Ms. Alcott’s kitchen legacy, and certainly perk up the Slump.

————-

For Fall Fest’s Apple Week, a few choice scenes – with apples – from Little Women.

- THE LAURENCE BOY -

“Jo! Jo! Where are you?” cried Meg at the foot of the garret stairs.

“Here!” answered a husky voice from above, and, running up, Meg found her sister eating apples and crying over the Heir of Redclyffe, wrapped up in a comforter on an old three-legged sofa by the sunny window. This was Jo’s favorite refuge, and here she loved to retire with half a dozen russets and a nice book, to enjoy the quiet and the society of a pet rat who lived near by and didn’t mind her a particle. As Meg appeared, Scrabble whisked into his hole. Jo shook the tears off her cheeks and waited to hear the news.

- BETH FINDS THE PALACE BEAUTIFUL -

“See the cunning brackets to hold candles, and the nice green silk, puckered up, with a gold rose in the middle, and the pretty rack and stool, all complete,” added Meg, opening the instrument and displaying its beauties.

“‘Your humble servant, James Laurence’. Only think of his writing that to you. I’ll tell the girls. They’ll think it’s splendid,” said Amy, much impressed by the note.

“Try it, honey. Let’s hear the sound of the baby pianny,” said Hannah, who always took a share in the family joys and sorrows.

So Beth tried it, and everyone pronounced it the most remarkable piano ever heard. It had evidently been newly tuned and put in apple-pie order, but, perfect as it was, I think the real charm lay in the happiest of all happy faces which leaned over it, as Beth lovingly touched the beautiful black and white keys and pressed the bright pedals.

“You’ll have to go and thank him,” said Jo, by way of a joke, for the idea of the child’s really going never entered her head.

“Yes, I mean to. I guess I’ll go now, before I get frightened thinking about it.” And, to the utter amazement of the assembled family, Beth walked deliberately down the garden, through the hedge, and in at the Laurences’ door.

- HARVEST TIME -

There were a great many holidays at Plumfield, and one of the most delightful was the yearly apple-picking. For then the Marches, Laurences, Brookes and Bhaers turned out in full force and made a day of it. Five years after Jo’s wedding, one of these fruitful festivals occurred, a mellow October day, when the air was full of an exhilarating freshness which made the spirits rise and the blood dance healthily in the veins.

The old orchard wore its holiday attire. Goldenrod and asters fringed the mossy walls. Grasshoppers skipped briskly in the sere grass, and crickets chirped like fairy pipers at a feast. Squirrels were busy with their small harvesting. Birds twittered their adieux from the alders in the lane, and every tree stood ready to send down its shower of red or yellow apples at the first shake.

“Yes, Jo, I think your harvest will be a good one,” began Mrs. March, frightening away a big black cricket that was staring Teddy out of countenance.

“Not half so good as yours, Mother. Here it is, and we never can thank you enough for the patient sowing and reaping you have done,” cried Jo, with the loving impetuosity which she never would outgrow.

LOUISA MAY ALCOTT’S APPLE SLUMP

from Orchard House, Concord, Massachusetts

4-6 tart apples (I used 3 large Granny Smith and 3 medium Golden Delicious)
1/2 cup firmly packed brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 1/2 cups flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup sugar
1 egg, well-beaten
1/2 cup milk
1/2 cup melted butter

Peel, core and slice the apples. Preheat oven to 350° F. Grease with butter the inside of a 1-1/2 quart baking dish. (NOTE: for a shallower, more even apples-to-topping ratio, use a 9 x 13 pan.) Put into the dish the sliced apples, brown sugar, nutmeg, cinnamon and 1/4 teaspoon salt. Bake apples uncovered until they are soft, about 20 minutes.

While the apples are baking, sift together into a bowl the flour, baking powder, 1/2 teaspoon salt, and sugar. Mix into this the beaten egg, milk, and melted butter. Stir gently. Spread this mixture over the apples and continue baking — until the top is brown and crusty (about 25 minutes). Serve with whipped cream. Serves 6.

NOTES (with apologies to Ms. Alcott)

1. Use at least 6 good-sized apples – 7 or 8 if they’re small – or you’ll have more topping than fruit.

2. Where the instructions say “Put into the dish the sliced apples, brown sugar, nutmeg…” I tossed the apples with the brown sugar, nutmeg, cinnamon and salt in a separate bowl, then poured the mixture into the baking dish. I also added 1/4 teaspoon pure vanilla to the apple-sugar mixture.

3. I sprinkled 1/2 cup chopped pecans over the batter topping.

4. Baking times (for both the uncovered apples and the batter-topped Slump) may be longer than noted. Watch for the apples to soften and the top crust to turn an even, light gold-brown.

Did the Marches have vanilla and pecans? No. But they didn’t have blogs, either.

————

Summer Fest is now Fall Fest, an ongoing celebration of good food and great ideas from food and garden bloggers around the globe. Every week we share great recipes, stories and tips for marvelous seasonal ingredients. You can participate by visiting the guest blogs to share links or comments – and if you’re particularly inspired, contribute a post of your own. Drop by A Way to Garden for details on how join the party.

THIS WEEK’S LINKS: APPLES

Todd and Diane at White on Rice Couple: Apple picking, and Broiled Leeks with Apple Vinaigrette

Alana at Eating from the Ground Up: Apple pie and its place in her family religion

Caron at San Diego Foodstuff: Remaking The Silver Palate Cookbook’s Medieval Apple Tart

Alison at Food2: 22 Awesome Ways to Use Your Apples

Michelle at Cooking Channel: Apple Dessert Recipes

Dana at Healthy Eats: 31 Days of Apple Recipes

Liz at Food Network: Pick the Perfect Apple

Caroline at The Wright Recipes: Apple Stack Cake and Dark Caramel Apples

Food Network UK: Five English apples you should know and love

Gilded Fork: Apples—Sweet Seduction

Paige at The Sister Project: Third-Prize Apple Pie

Nicole at Pinch My Salt: Favorite Apple Recipes

Margaret at A Way to Garden: Apple Season: A Windfall of Recipes From My Friends

We see Jenna make dozens of pies, from banana cream to blackberry chocolate, and she names each pie to match her mood, names like “I Can’t Have No Affair Because It’s Wrong And I Don’t Want Earl To Kill Me Pie (vanilla custard with banana, hold the banana)” and “Pregnant Miserable Self Pitying Loser Pie (lumpy oatmeal with fruitcake mashed in).” Waitress is funny, intelligent, delicious and, best of all, features an elderly Andy Griffith as Old Joe, a sly, pie-loving philosopher. See it and you won’t be sorry. Possibly hungry, but not sorry.

In other news, I baked a pie – made for the wonderful cross-blog food event Summer Fest. I’m contributing to this week’s topic, Stone Fruits, and next week’s topic, Tomatoes.  Summer Fest 2010 features more wonderful food bloggers than ever (I had a swell time last year, too), listed at the end of this post. Be sure to visit them all today to check out their marvelous recipes, tips and ideas – and share some of your own.

What did I call my pie? Well, I wasn’t sure, at least not until late afternoon. Despite the presence of good pie, one never does know where the day will lead. Let’s take a look.

“Dopey Marilyn Doesn’t Have a Pitter, So Pal Melanie Helped Her Pit Cherries With A Knife Pie,” also known as “Melanie Was Real Mad At Her Landlord And Took It Out On The Bloody Cherries Pie.”

“Calls From Auto Insurance, Volleyball Coach, Dentist, Piano Teacher and Mom Tryin’ To Keep Me From Rolling Dough Pie.”

“Why Does Melanie Back Away Slow When I Start Cutting Dough Leaves? Pie”

“The Dog’s Breath Smells Like Ginger ‘Cause Half The Crunch Hit The Floor Pie”

and finally,

“Hungry Crabby Tired Back-To-School Josie Got A Fork And That Was All She Wrote Pie.”

CHERRY APRICOT PIE with GINGER-ALMOND CRUNCH

1. Make pie dough. Roll crust into pie plate as directed, and chill in refrigerator until ready to fill.

2. Make Ginger-Almond Crunch. Refrigerate until ready to use.

3. Make Cherry Apricot filling. Pour filling into prepared pie crust. Finish and bake as directed, using one of the options below.

If you’ve prepared a fluted pie crust: sprinkle Ginger-Almond Crunch evenly over pie filling, covering fruit. Place pie on a foil-lined baking sheet (wide enough to catch all drips) and set in lower third of preheated 400° oven. Bake approximately 30 minutes, then lower oven temperature to 350° and bake an additional 30 minutes, or until crust is golden brown and juices are thickened and bubbling. If crust and crunch topping brown too quickly, tent pie loosely with foil and bake until done. Cool completely before slicing. Delicious warm, but expect broken, cobbler-like pieces. Which are also good.

If you’ve prepared for a leaf cutout crust: Remove leaf cutouts from refrigerator. Fill a small bowl with water. Using fingers, moisten the back of one leaf cutout and press it gently but firmly to pie dough rim, adhering to folded edge. Add remaining leaves in an overlapping pattern, moistening and pressing each one to form a natural “wreath” along the rim.

When leaf edge is complete, sprinkle Ginger-Almond Crunch evenly over pie filling, covering fruit. Place pie on a foil-lined baking sheet (wide enough to catch all drips) and set in lower third of preheated 400° oven. Bake approximately 30 minutes, then lower oven temperature to 350° and bake an additional 30 minutes, or until crust is golden brown and juices are thickened and bubbling. If crust and crunch topping brown too quickly, tent pie loosely with foil and bake until done. Cool completely before slicing. Delicious warm, but expect broken, cobbler-like pieces. Which are also good.

——-

Pie Crust

2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
12 tablespoons unsalted butter, cold
3 tablespoons chilled vegetable shortening
1/4 cup ice water

Food processor method: Place flour and salt in processor bowl. Cut butter and shortening in pieces, and sprinkle over flour mixture. Pulse machine on/off to cut butter/shortening into flour, forming coarse crumbs and a few remaining chunks. Trickle ice water over mixture, pulsing until it just comes together as a rough, unformed dough, about 20-30 seconds. Wrap and chill, at least 1 hour.

On a lightly floured work surface, divide pie dough in half, patting each half into a flattened round. (Reserve one half to roll decorative leaf or other cutouts, if desired, or wrap and chill for another use.) Roll first half of dough into a round approximately 1/8″ thick, turning as you roll to prevent sticking. Round size should be slightly larger than your 9″ or 10″ deep-dish pie plate. Transfer round to pie plate, lightly pressing dough to fit, and patching small cracks or tears if necessary. Trim excess dough, leaving about 1″ of overhang.

For fluted rim pie crust: Gently fold overhang up and over pie plate rim, pressing dough with thumb and forefinger as you work around whole plate to form a decorative indented rim. Chill unbaked crust in refrigerator until ready to fill.

For leaf cutout pie crust: Trim overhang to 1/2″, then fold up and over pie plate, pressing into a flat rim all around. Roll second half of dough to 1/8″ thick. Cut leaf shapes 1) with a leaf-shaped cookie cutter or 2) cutting freehand with a paring knife. Cut slightly pointed ovals (irregular is fine!) then use tip of paring knife to lightly score “leaf veining” marks on each one. Leaves will be added to edge after pie is filled, so chill cutouts in refrigerator until ready to use.

Ginger-Almond Crunch

5 tablespoons unsalted butter, cold
1/2 all-purpose flour
1/3 cup light brown sugar, packed
1/4 cup whole almonds, toasted
1/4 cup crystallized ginger chunks

Toast almonds in a skillet over medium heat, shaking until golden brown, about 5-6 minutes, OR toast in 350° oven on an ungreased baking sheet, about 10 minutes. Cool almonds completely before using.

Place toasted almonds and crystallized ginger in food processor bowl. Pulse machine on/off until you get small, coarse pieces. Add butter, flour, and brown sugar to bowl. Using on/off pulse again, process together into even, large crumbs. Transfer mixture to a small bowl, and refrigerate until ready to use.

Cherry Apricot Filling

1 1/2 pounds firm ripe apricots, pitted and quartered, about 4 cups
1 1/2 pound cherries, pitted
1 teaspoon lemon juice
3/4 cup sugar
3 1/2 tablespoons cornstarch
1/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon pure almond extract

In large bowl, gently toss cut apricots and pitted cherries together with lemon juice. In small bowl, combine sugar and cornstarch. Sprinkle mixture over apricots and cherries, turning to coat, then add vanilla and almond extracts, lightly tossing until just mixed. Follow directions above for filling and baking pie.

Summer Fest is an annual online celebration of good food and great ideas, featuring food and garden bloggers from around the globe. Every week we highlight a different seasonal ingredient – corn, stone fruit, tomatoes – and our guest bloggers share wonderful recipes, stories and tips. You can participate by visiting these terrific blogs and leaving links or comments – and if you’re feeling particularly inspired, you can contribute a post of your own. Drop by A Way to Garden for details on how join the party.

THIS WEEK’S LINKS: STONE FRUIT

Sara at Cooking Channel: Savory Stone Fruit recipes.

Todd and Diane of White on Rice Couple: Riesling Poached Pluots.

Margaret at A Way to Garden: What is stone fruit, anyhow? Plus: Clafoutis batter revisited.

Caroline at The Wright Recipes: Ginger and Vanilla Poached Peaches.

The FN Dish: Paula’s Perfect Peach Cobbler.

Alison at Food2: Peachy Party Foods.

Kelly at Just a Taste: Peaches & Cream Cupcakes.

Liz on Healthy Eats: Puttin’ Up Peach Pickles, Compote and More.

Food Network UK: How to Poach a Peach.

Judy of Divina Cucina: Chocolate Amaretti Baked Apricots.

The Gilded Fork: dossier & recipes featuring peaches, apricots, nectarines, plums, cherries, almonds, coconuts.

Cate at Sweetnicks: Blueberry Peach Smoothies.

Tara at Tea & Cookies: Making Peach Jam.

Alana at Eating From the Ground Up: Stone fruit slump.

Caron of San Diego Foodstuff: grilled peach parfait and coconut peach gazpacho.

Gluten-Free Girl and the Chef: gluten-free peach-blueberry buckle.

Paige at The Sister Project: A Summer Fruit Whatchamacallit (not a pie, not a crisp, but delicious).

Marilyn at Simmer Till Done: Cherry Apricot Pie with Ginger-Almond Crunch.

Tigress in a Jam: nectarine preserve with summer savory and white pepper.

I was too summer-lazy to measure. Use my guestimates as a guideline, and know your fruit-eating crowd.

1-2 lbs. fresh fruit, may include:

1 lb. strawberries, hulled and halved
1 pint blueberries, picked over
1 small seedless watermelon, rind removed, chunked or scooped with melon baller
1 medium cantaloupe, rind removed, chunked or scooped with melon baller

can also use raspberries, blackberries, honeydew or other muskmelons

1 – 2 tablespoons powdered sugar, to taste
1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
small bunch fresh mint, about 1 dozen large leaves, torn or roughly chopped

Place prepared fruit in large bowl. Sift powdered sugar over fruit, tossing to coat. Add balsamic vinegar and mint, tossing once more to coat. Serve immediately or refrigerate, up to four hours. (I prefer to refrigerate 30 minutes – 1 hour, allowing fruit to steep in flavor.)

There’s good news, too. She’s wonderful, lovely and smart and funny, as she always has been. She is all those things and now more, independent and stubborn and debate-ready, on matters from politics to proper barrette placement, which, I’d forgotten, is crucial.

She does not have one answer. She has ten. On a truly inspired day, twelve.

Who was there? Well, so-and-so was there, and her friend, and nobody else. Nobody? Well, oh yeah, there was that guy, and his friend, and his little brother, but they’re boring. And someone’s mom dropped her off but then she had to leave, to go to yoga. And oh yes Emily was there but not that Emily, not the one you don’t like, the other one. There were tons of people I knew. Tons? But, you know, nobody else was there.

So the news, then, is that even when they are lovely-smart-funny, the pleasures of agreement are few. She thinks adults oversimplify, always assuming a situation is either perfect or totally awful. She says it’s all flexible, all open to possiblity. Nothing is just one way.

I called my mother the other day and asked, where is the reward here? What is it? Oh, Josie is my reward, she said. I was stunned. It’s not me? The adult me isn’t your reward? Well, she said, you are, but she’s the easiest reward.

I told her well, she’s quite complicated right now. Your own daughter takes longer, she said. You did.

One hot afternoon last week, first in a long line of scorchers, Josie got home from the pool and was sitting in the kitchen eating popcorn, briefly friend- and phone-free.  I pounced, and she couldn’t believe her luck: errands! She would join me on errands. Gas, dry cleaning, dog food place and the local co-op for eggs, asparagus, salad greens, fruit.  And because any errand-mate must act as my extra hands, on the way home it was Josie who held the small green basket, dropping tiny leaves and fine dirt in her lap, the first strawberries of the season.

The berries were misshapen and candy red, embroidered with yellow seeds. Josie cupped the basket, turning berries over with one finger, picking at curled green stems. Her hair was still wet and she wore friendship bracelets, the wrist code of teen girls: this is my favorite, these are my friends, that’s my design. I wore shorts, which I generally avoid up to August, and also a ponytail, in place through October. To me summer is a stack of camp forms, frizzy hair, bathing suit shopping, bug spray. Of course for most people summer, I know, is the golden child of seasons, joy without fuss. Josie was an unfussy baby, and later an unfussy child. Now she embraces its complications, this almost-high school life, juggling friends, algebra, parents, lockers, friends. Choices.

In the car she was quiet, rather suspiciously not asking for objects, rides or permissions. She wanted to get home, to zoom through dinner and reach dessert. Squinting through five o’ clock rays at the berries on her lap, I asked Josie: what should we do with them?

Should I make strawberry cobbler? Soak them in rum? Buttermilk strawberry cake, strawberry-rhubarb pie, strawberry rum sauce or ice cream or strawberry-banana crepes?

We should eat them, she said, and popped one. Just eat them.

And that is what we did.

This is a flurry of activity, it is, after what we’ve called The Summer of Nothing. It seemed she did not want to do classes, or camps, nor any effort that required organization, even forming a line.  No, she wanted to swim, and hang with friends, scoop blueberry sundaes and climb rocks with old mom and dad in the cold waves of Lutsen, Minnesota. We let her, and now it’s back to the books.  Will her head be empty as the berry bowl, or charged by summer’s fruit? We’ll see.

———

Berries, sugar, water

Minnesota-toted blueberry jam

simmer

spoon

sauce remembers.

Easy Blueberry Sauce: simmer 1-2 pints blueberries with dash of sugar and splash of water. When warm and sugar has dissolved, add about 1 cup good-quality blueberry jam or preserves. Stir to melt and combine. Optional: add a squeeze of lemon or pinch of nutmeg for extra flavor. Serve warm over pancakes, waffles, ice cream. May also spoon directly into mouth.

For even more zing try adding another fresh summer fruit, like sliced peaches, plums or nectarines.

So – do you have a few words on berries? Pancakes, waffles, pound cakes or cobblers? Is there a pandowdy in the house? Tell me how you like your blueberries – and please, keep it to ten, and make it juicy.

Very funny. Yes, it’s called Pandowdy, and yes, Ginger Peach sounds like she’s waiting tables at Dollywood, and yes, it’s the finest reward of summer. We’ll make it – but first, let me tell you about that tomato up there, and what it’s got to do with Ginger.

The wonderful Margaret Roach, she of A Way to Garden and The Sister Project, invited me to participate in Summer Fest 2009. The Fest is a regular cross-blogging party: every week a new food-from-the-garden theme gets turned over to several stellar bloggers, including Margaret, Matt Armendariz of Mattbites, Jaden Hair of Steamy Kitchen, and Todd and Diane of White on Rice Couple. Also popping up: Shauna and Daniel Ahern from Gluten-Free Girl, Paige Smith Orloff of The Sister Project, and, for the love of pie crust, me.

And also you! Summer Fest is a great way to find new blogs, get new ideas and contribute a few of your own.

Summer Fest 2009

Tuesday, July 28: HERBS

Tuesday, August 4: FRUITS from TREES

Visit all of these terrific bloggers for amazing recipes, gorgeous photos, funny stories, and to share your own tips!

• Margaret Roach @ A Way to Garden: Peach Clafoutis
• Paige Smith Orloff @ The Sister Project: Plum Tarte Tatin
• Jaden Hair @ Steamy Kitchen: Chanterelle, Bacon and Plum Salad with Blue Cheese
• Diane & Todd @ White on Rice Couple: Refreshing Peach Coolers
• Matt Armendariz @ Mattbites: Apricot Ice Cream
  

Tuesday, August 11: BEANS-AND-GREENS WEEK (either or both, your choice).

Tuesday, August 18: TOMATO WEEK

Hopscotch around these great blogs, find what you like and please leave something to share, like recipes, links or tips. Do you have great tomato plants, a super apricot dessert? Introduce yourself, and comment away.  If you’ve got a blog, grab the juicy red Summer Fest badge (created by Matt) and create a post of your own. You can swing by every breezy, delicious week – it’s summer. It’s a Fest. And all are welcome.

Now let’s return to our heroine, Ginger Peach. For my Fest guest spot this week, we’re making Ginger Peach Pandowdy, and we already know it’s hilarious, a cross between long-legged Daisy Duke and pale old Aunt Em. Oh, Auntie Em. When you live in Kansas, there’s no escaping Oz talk. Not here, of course – I mean the Oz talk waiting for luggage at JFK, or at a party in Santa Monica or on a boat down the Amazon, for that matter. If a rainforest tribesman heard you were from Kansas, I’ve no doubt he’d thump his stick and say, “Dorothy! Toto too.”

I moved here from Chicago and Greg hails from suburban Kansas City, suburbs like any other. Our university town, Lawrence, is full of artisan ales and sushi, scholars and lawyers and Kobe burgers. So what’s the matter with Kansas? Well, you can love the place – we do – but because it’s Kansas you’ll be on the defensive, for the rest of your sensible Midwestern life.  You will, at some point, be confronted by guffawing conventioneers on one coast or another, slapping you on the back and demanding your ruby slippers.

C’est la vie Kansan.

And I’m sharing all this because? Well, I’d originally planned a different dessert, Ginger-Peach Empanadas, but then my mother called, and Josie required a chauffeur, and then a house fell on my head and there were little people. No, it did not work out at all. But I did salvage the peaches and the dough, and used them to make something else.  I must say it was a masterful repurposing, in line with my beloved chef-mentor’s mantra, “We don’t eat our mistakes. We fix them.”

I loved this ginger-kissed bottomless pie, and suddenly full of can-do spirit, I envisioned a philosophical post about beating obstacles, and silver linings. I photographed the dish, sugared and sparkling, but as I breathed in peachy steam through the lens, I realized what I’d actually baked: a Pandowdy.

Now, there are cobblers, crisps, Bettys, buckles, grunts and even slumps – and then, there is the truly old-fashioned Pandowdy: a dessert of fresh fruit baked under pie crust shapes. But Pandowdy did not sound like Ginger-Peach Empanadas. “Empanada did sound more exciting,” said Josie. “Cobbler. Can’t it be a cobbler?”

“No,” I told her, with a heavy blogger’s heart, “it’s a Pandowdy.”

And no matter. We accept the names of things and look for what lies beneath, striving to never judge dessert by its topping. Besides, that Ginger Peach – she’s a swell girl, not dowdy at all, and proud to be who she is: homey, sweet, a few piercings. And more than a little bit spicy.

GINGER PEACH PANDOWDY

Pie Dough

3 cups unsifted all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon powdered ginger
4 oz (1 stick) cold unsalted butter, cut in chunks
4 oz shortening, cold, in chunks
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
2 extra-large egg yolks, cold
4 tablespoons ice water, or more as needed

To make dough by hand: Stir flour, salt and powdered ginger together in large bowl. Scatter butter and shortening chunks over flour mixture. Using pastry blender or two knives, “cut” the butter/shortening into the flour, crumbling with hands as necessary, until mixture resembles coarse cornmeal. Sprinkle sugar over mixture and stir in quickly. Blend egg yolks and water in small bowl, then pour over flour mixture. Combine everything (using hands) to make a smooth, firm dough. If dough seems dry, add ice water in drops, mixing to combine. Turn out dough onto parchment, wax paper or lightly floured surface, pressing to form a smooth, flat round. Cut dough in half, wrap each half, and chill until ready to use.

To make dough in food processor: Place flour, salt and powdered ginger in work bowl of processor fitted with steel blade. Pulse a few times just to combine. Add butter/shortening chunks over flour and process, using on-off pulses, until fat is reduced to large flakes. Sprinkle with sugar, and pulse 1-2 seconds to blend. Beat egg yolk and ice water in small bowl, then pour over flour mixture. Pulse mixture to combine, using on-off pulses, just until a rough dough begins to come together. If dough seems too dry, add extra drops of water and pulse just until dough combines. Turn out dough onto parchment, wax paper or lightly floured surface, pressing to form a smooth, flat round. Cut dough in half, wrap each half, and chill until ready to use.

Ginger Peach Filling

2 tablespoons cornstarch
1/2 cup granulated sugar
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon cinnamon
pinch sea salt
7 large peaches, peeled, pitted, cubed and tossed with 2 teaspoons lemon juice
finely grated zest of 1 small lemon
1/2 cup (approx. 3 oz.) crystallized ginger, chopped in small dice
1/4 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1 tablespoon milk or half-and-half
1 tablespoon water
Demerara (turbinado, raw cane) sugar for sprinkling (or granulated)

Preheat oven to 400 degrees F.

Whisk together cornstarch, granulated sugar, nutmeg, cinnamon and sea salt in large bowl. Add the peaches, lemon zest, crystallized ginger and vanilla, and toss well to combine. Pour filling into deep oval or rectangular baking dish, and set aside while you roll pie dough. (A lower, wider rectangular dish, like a 9 x 13 pan, will work but will result in a shorter layer of fruit.)

Assemble and bake pandowdy:

Roll out both chilled dough halves on a lightly floured surface, 1/4 – 1/2″ thick. Using a 2 – 3″ round cookie cutter, stamp circles from dough, gathering scraps and re-rolling until done. Set aside a small amount of dough for fluted rim and top decorations, if desired.

Now, starting on one side of peach-filled baking dish, top fruit with rows of dough circles, overlapping to form a “fish scale” pattern. Repeat until all fruit is is covered, pinching edges to sides of dish.

Fluted rim and decorations, optional: using both hands, roll reserved pie dough into long rope pieces. Press ropes around top edges of dish, pinching to join with dough circles. When finished, pinch rope edge down so that short triangles stick up, working around rim until done. Decorations: roll and cut “peach,” leaf or heart shapes, as desired. Brush back of decorations with water, and arrange atop dough circles.

Mix milk (or half-and-half) with water in small dish, then brush mixture over top of pandowdy. Sprinkle liberally with demerara (or granulated) sugar.

Place baking dish on cookie sheet (to catch drips) and bake in center of preheated oven for 20 – 30 minutes, until top crust browns and fruit juices bubble through. Serve warm, with ice cream.

Anyway – just two more reruns and I’ll back and simmering, more stewing than ever. As always, thanks for hanging around.

This caramelized little story is from last July; as I recall, the combination of sugared bananas, chocolate, ice cream and pecans set off a round of summer drooling. Original post found here.

—————-

July is an upside-down month – as in steaming outside, freezing inside. It’s too hot to cook, but I’m starving. I couldn’t eat another bite, but…a little something cold for dessert?

Oh, summer desserts. With a damp ponytail and flip-flops, you’d think I’d keep it simple, but no. That scoop of specked vanilla, it’s purity in a bowl. It needs nothing more, but it’s a backdrop-in-waiting; ice cream clearly welcomes the company of fruits and candies and other sweet bits.

My family’s always a little whacked in the heat, but if a gallon of ice cream appears we turn positively nuts – and bananas, too.

I have a seasonless weak spot for bananas that was sealed long ago. Right after college I worked as an editor by day and in a bookstore at night, often skipping dinner but never missing a snack. By the 8 pm break I’d bolt from the store, run three doors down to Love’s Frozen Yogurt and demand sliced bananas over Double Chocolate Dutch. Seven minutes of frozen peace, a one-minute trudge back to work.

Ever get on such a jag you think you might never get off? That whole year I set my watch by frozen yogurt. Standing at the register at 7:58, I was sure that if I didn’t taste chocolate and bananas soon, I’d poof into flame and take the book browsers with me.

And that, my friends, is a jag.

We tend to replace little obsessions with new ones. I no longer require two quick scoops at eight, but I still love chocolate and bananas, especially in summer, when they’re so sweet together they’re practically going steady.

Now, at a darn-close 100 degrees, I’d be crazy to sizzle bananas and dip pecans – but a few minutes at the stove won’t keep me from hot banana caramel and salty chocolate nuts. Which brings us to another upside-down summer thought: I do want to go the pool…I do not want to put on that suit.

Caramelized Banana Sundaes with Salty Chocolate Pecans

vanilla bean ice cream

2-3 bananas, slightly green, not quite ripe
3/4 cup light brown sugar
2 tablespoons butter
dash of cinnamon

1 cup pecan halves
semi-sweet chocolate, about 3 oz
sea salt, for sprinkling

salty chocolate pecans:

Place semi-sweet chocolate in small microwave-safe bowl and use microwave to melt, heating at intervals of no more than 35 seconds each. Remove from microwave after each interval, two or three times, stirring to smooth. Dip each pecan halfway in melted chocolate, and place on a parchment or wax-paper lined sheet. Before chocolate sets, sprinkle chocolate pecans with sea salt. Place in refrigerator to set before serving.

caramelized bananas:

Slice bananas in thick chunks. Place a large non-stick frying pan over medium-high heat – when hot, sizzle one tablespoon of butter for a few seconds, then add bananas.

Do not stir or move bananas for about 30 seconds; allow to brown. Use a heat-proof spatula to turn bananas over, then add brown sugar, cinnamon, and remaining tablespoon of butter. Shaking pan to keep bananas moving, cook about one minute more, until sugar is melted and bananas are caramelized, but still solid. Remove from heat and serve.

Scoop ice cream into bowls. Top with generous amounts of warm caramelized bananas and chocolate pecans. Get out of the way fast, and serve.

serves 2-4, depending on serving size

And then, once in a sugared blue moon you get the sort of feedback that makes you very, very happy.  Yesterday Simmer reader Amy, she of her own blog My Land, sent me something wonderful.

Her own Apple-Almond Braid, and doesn’t it look smashing? Now that’s what I call feedback. Feed-me feedback.

Delicious job, Amy, and thanks for sending it!

I don’t leave home without dessert. Call it fate or my fault, but I can’t appear at birthdays, baby showers or tax meetings empty-handed. I no longer run a kitchen or own a bakery – but even when I did, this sort of dessert was greeted, time and again, with the same phrase: you didn’t make that.

Well yes I did, I’d say, I did make that. Oh come on, they’d sputter, that came from a bakery. It was cute, it was flattering, and eventually, annoying. No, that looks like professional bakery.

Uh…I work in a bakery. I am a bakery. You’re paying for it. It’s bakery.

This went on. Even now with the apple-almond braid, even with family, fifteen years among them and still the same tease:

“You didn’t make that.”

(eyes roll into back of my head)

“Yes.” I hand a slice to Millie, on my right, who takes it and smiles. “I did.”

“Come on – did you stop at the bakery?”

“No,” I said, plating a slice, “I didn’t.”

“You did not make that.”

“Mm…sure did.”

“You stopped at the bakery.”

“Fine. I stopped at the bakery, okay?” Now they were listening. “Yeah. I stopped at the bakery – the bakery of me. Now who wants a slice?”

Today we are stopping at the bakery of…you.  You’re going to make this Apple-Almond Braid and amaze them – you’re going to coolly cut slices while they search for the white box.  This looks fussy, but it isn’t, and looks tricky, but it’s not.  It also looks delicious, and it is.  Bakery?  Uh-uh.  Today, this is how you roll.

Apple-Almond Braid

Slice apples and saute with sugar, just caramelizing to a tasty gold.

Lightly chop the cooked apples. Run out of the kitchen in an effort not to eat the cooked apples. Come back and vow to eat just a few.

On a lightly floured surface, roll the cream cheese dough out to a wide, slightly squared oval shape, long enough to fit lengthwise across a cookie sheet. Transfer dough to ungreased cookie sheet, allowing a slight overhang off the edges.

Spread almond filling lengthwise down center of dough strip, leaving about 2 inches bare on either side.

Pile those golden cooked apples on top of the almond filling, mounding evenly lengthwise down the strip…

…like so. And now we do a great trick, the one that will make them demand to see your bakery receipt: using a small sharp knife, slash diagonal lines along both sides of the filled strip. Start with your knife on the inside, closer to the almond filling, and pull the knife out, creating short strips, about 3/4″ wide. Cut short strips along both sides of dough, leaving “overhang ends” uncut and in tact. The strip should look fringed…

…sort of like a big apple-almond fish. Now, starting at one end, pull each strip toward the center, creating a “V” with each pair, loosely pinching together in the middle. Continuing pulling and pairing strips all the way down, until filling is covered and you have a “braid.”

To finish the ends, pinch overhang dough together, then pull up and roll over the cookie sheet, pinching to meet and seal the braid.

Oh my god, look what you did!  You’re some kind of domesticated bakery superstar, and you’re almost done.  Sprinkle finished, unbaked braid thickly with cinnamon-sugar mixture and sliced almonds.

Bake to a gorgeous crusty brown, sprinkle some powdered sugar, and prepare for bakery heaven…

…because that’s it. You get true bakery sights, sounds and tastes with just one chunk of dough, a few ripe apples and a new trick up your sleeve. Don’t forget to keep those sleeves rolled up – and by all means, remove that bracelet.
—————————–
Apple-Almond Braid

1 batch Cream Cheese Dough (below)
1 batch Apple Filling (below)
6 oz almond filling (available in supermarkets, canned)
1/2 cup sliced almonds
cinnamon and sugar, for sprinkling

1. Make one recipe of Cream Cheese Dough, below. Flatten into a smooth oval shape, wrap in plastic and chill until ready to use.

2. While dough chills, make Apple Filling, below.  Set apples aside to cool while you roll dough.

3. Preheat oven to 375 F.

4. Roll & Assemble the Braid: remove Cream Cheese Dough from refrigerator. On a lightly floured surface, roll dough to approximately 1/4″ thickness and roll to a large, flat oval shape, about 8-9 ” wide and as long as your cookie sheet, 17″ or more. Transfer dough to ungreased cookie sheet, allowing “overhang” off the edges at either end. Trim away any excess dough and refrigerate for other use (like…dough snacks).

Using spoon or offset flat spatula, spread almond filling lengthwise down dough strip, leaving about 2″ bare on either side. Mound cooled apples evenly on top of almond filling.

Using a small sharp knife, slash diagonal lines along both sides of the filled strip. Start with your knife on the inside, closer to the almond filling, and pull the knife out, creating short strips, about 3/4″ wide. Cut short strips along both sides of dough, leaving “overhang ends” uncut and in tact.

Starting at one end, pull each strip toward the center, creating a “V” with each pair, loosely pinching together in the middle. Continuing pulling and pairing strips all the way down, until filling is covered and you have a “braid.” Sprinkle finished, unbaked braid thickly with cinnamon-sugar mixture and sliced almonds.

5. Bake: place braid in lower third of oven and bake for approximately 35 minutes, until golden brown. Bake another 10 minutes on top rack of oven, until almonds are browned but not burnt, pastry is a dark golden brown and fruit juices begin to bubble. Remove from oven and cool.

To serve, lightly sift powdered sugar over whole braid. Serve slices warm, if desired, with vanilla ice cream.

serves 10 – 15

——————

Cream Cheese Dough

8 oz cream cheese, cold
8 oz unsalted butter, cold
2 cups all-purpose flour
pinch salt

Place flour and salt in food processor and process a few seconds, to blend. Chunk butter and cream cheese in pieces over flour, then process, using on-off motion, until dough just forms a ball. Turn out onto floured surface and knead lightly into a smooth mass. Wrap with plastic and chill until ready to use. Rolls best when cold but still pliable, on a lightly floured surface.

Apple Filling

5 Golden Delicious apples, peeled, cored, and thick-sliced
1/2 cup water
1/2 cup sugar
2 tablespoons corn starch
4 tablespoons water
1 1/2 teaspoons cinnamon

Using a large and preferably non-stick frying pan, saute apples over medium-high heat with sugar and water, shaking pan occasionally, until just golden, browning and slightly sticky. Turn apples with heatproof spoon or spatula for even color. Cook until soft but not mush – watch carefully and do not burn. Reduce heat to low.

In small bowl, mix water and cornstarch to combine. Over low heat, add corn starch mixture to apples, stirring and shaking to thicken and distribute evenly. When done, apples should appear golden, glistening and still in soft slices. If too thick and pasty – i.e., white chunks of cornstarch appear – add a bit more water as necessary, turning to combine. Turn off heat, sprinkle with cinnamon and toss to distribute.

Remove apples from stove and cool until just safe to handle. Spread on cutting board and lightly chop, making large chunks. Set apples aside to cool before using as filling.

I chose today’s flashback to honor the many readers who stumble onto Simmer just because they Googled something like this:

“stench coming from dishwasher”
“odor inside dish machine”
“kitchen smells real bad gross like dead thing”
“crap is something in my dishwasher??”

So, let me get this straight – stench sufferers turn to Google, and this is what they get? I’d ask for a refund. From February 28, 2008, let’s take another look at my problems with pears.

———-

Why I’m Afraid of Pears

from February 28, 2008

It’s true.

I’m a little afraid of the most painterly fruit – and all this M-Word talk has brought sweet paranoia tumbling back like three baskets of lovely but rotten green ones.

Why, you say? What kind of sane, grown woman can’t admire a shiny pear?

Well. Let’s hop to another time, years ago, when Josie was but a rosy-cheeked toddler and I ran a dessert company, The Happy Ending, out of our 1929 home. I’d had the county health department inspect my cleaner-than-restaurant kitchen, and we’d made some necessary modifications to operate on the level.

One thing we installed was an industrial, high-heat dishwasher with a powerful food grinder. It felt solid, official. It could quietly chew a whole rump roast, were I to casually toss one in. And that thought comforted me as I went about my busy business. It was serious equipment, and I considered the machine a stainless steel shield, my protector in the new worlds of motherhood and business.

I worked in our tiny kitchen, which doubled as catering center and family feeder. On any given day you’d see the fruits of both labors: stacked butter cookie trays cooling in the sun room, Josie’s favorite sweet potatoes browning in the oven, hazelnut mocha cakes on the dining room table.

Josie also loved pears, and snacked on them in every form – raw, roasted, pureed and, depending on the day’s work, poached in red wine and vanilla bean-specked. One hotel client required weekly deliveries of pear-and-almond tarts – so it was a lot of fruit. And I spent many hours prepping at my little butcher block table, with one eye on Josie, cheerfully tumbling over 50-pound flour bags while I peeled, cored, poached, sliced, diced and tarted up a veritable orchard of pears.

There was an odd, controlled chaos between the ganache and the Legos, the snack bowls and meringues, but my kitchen was clean, so clean. So clean that on the day I noticed a slight odor coming from the dishwasher, I was thrown.

“It smells,” I told my husband.

“It’s fine,” he said.

“He said it’s fine,” I’d repeat to Josie, who giggled. Funny daddy. “It SMELLS , but it’s fine. Ugh.”

In 24 hours the faint off-odor had become a mild stench. I would hold my breath and crack the dishwasher door for a jam-and-slam; that is, jam in the plate, slam the door and run. Later, I’d exhale in the hallway. Then Greg started to come around.

“Yes,” he pronounced one night, two days later, “it smells.”

O Merciful Olfactory Gods! If we can arrive at the golden spot where we agree that something smells, that smell will surely be found. I had seen nothing yet. I’d furtively rattled and prodded the racks, but could not find the source. When the insistent green cloud started spreading out for real, I got bold.

Armed with a flashlight, I swung open the dishwasher door. Oh! Should have had a gas mask. But I went in.

The rotting smell of – of what, of what, a thousand trout guts? old jockstraps in ammonia? – hit me in the face as I swept light toward the back. The smell got stronger, and I saw the shadowy outline of a chunk – pears, I thought – down toward the bottom. Blinded, perhaps by stench and the fact that I was crouched in a wet dark corner of my dishwasher, I did the unthinkable. I reached.

And poked it, with my finger, and in a frozen instant knew that it was not a pear. Not pear, not pear, not pear! I yanked away fast, whacking my head as I backed out, cartoon stars around my head and the sprayer arm spinning, dirty water dripping on me and the slimy, unknown chunk.

I grabbed the closest tool, cooking tongs. Summoning every breath of calm, I turned the flashlight back towards what I now knew was death, death in the dishwasher, a dishwasher death chunk.

I moved in, half-secure that whatever it might be, it was, at least, not moving.

There, stuck between a stainless steel ring and the wet nether regions of the grinder, was a mangled piece of…well, in shaky light, I could just make out a pointy grayish shape, with a small round…oh my god, ear…and then…an eye. A tiny black bead of an eye, unmoving and staring straight at me.

I should have expired. I should have dropped cold right there on my kitchen floor, but instead I reached in with the tongs. In my career, these particular metal tongs had lovingly browned coq au vin. They had turned peppery steaks on the grill and set roast ginger carrots on the plate, but not that day.

That day, guided by shaking hands, they would perform the ultimate service – a service no kitchen tool ever wants to perform. Today, they would scrape out the remains of – now clearly visible in kitchen daylight – a waterlogged, festering, three-day old mouse head.

I had poked naked finger into the squishy cranium of a dead mouse. Not pear, I thought, why could it not have been a rotting pear?

Both head and tongs were thrown into a bag, and then tied in another bag, then frantically stuffed in the trash. I sanitized the dishwasher five times and washed my hands for a week, and threw out the trash can too. If I could replace my finger, I would.

I shed no tears for the mouse’s end, only for my tainted finger and the heroically lost tongs. My dishwasher-shield was just doing its job; he’d scampered into death on his own accord. But…pears. So sure was I that the death chunk was pear that even today, it’s hard to separate visions of soaked, torn rodent head from a nicely peeled Bartlett.

I might overlook it, sliced in greens with walnuts, blue cheese and vinaigrette. But no poaching. If that fruit is in a soft state, a state most people adore and are pleased to eat with creme anglaise, that’s when I check out.

My fellow diners won’t see it at the table, but inside, while they feast on dessert, I’ll be doing a full-body shudder, remembering the cold, cold surprise of wet, beady-eyed, furry not-pear.