At Summer's End

It seems like the summer flew by and I can hardly figure out where it went.  I know I’ve been running around a lot, taking day trips and weekend jaunts, but it always comes as a bit of a shock to me when September rolls around once more.  Next weekend is Labor Day and for me summer’s last hurrah. 

I don’t feel particularly melancholy about it this year, maybe because I feel like I’ve accomplished summer, performed the duties of summer, as it were, in taking my excursions to the beach and to the mountains and even the Midwest, but it’s still a little sad to see it go because it’s been so much fun. 

I remember never liking summer too much as a teenager.  I was one of those annoyingly astute kids who kept their nose buried in a book and even enjoyed school for the most part.  The long months of June, July and August were a hibernation period for me because we lived so far out in the country.  I won’t say I didn’t enjoy my time alone, but it was always a thrilling thing for me when it came time to head back to school and rekindle my geekiness. 

I did a bit of reliving old summer and school times with my cousin, Kevin, last weekend.  He came over for a visit bringing me tons of photos he unearthed on a recent trip back to Missouri.  The pictures brought back memories, though some of them I was so young I have no recollection.  And I certainly don’t remember defacing the door to his bedroom (thankfully not in a photo) where we apparently carved obscene images on the door during a summer I lived with him.) 

It’s funny to look over old pictures of your family, especially ones that are now more than 30 years old.  The fashions have definitely changed, though I’m old enough now to appreciate some of the vintage looks my aunts, uncles and mother used to wear.  There was an amazing photo of my mother in her early twenties wearing a full-length fur coat, which was to die for.  She looked amazing, though I’m sure PETA would not have approved.  (Don’t worry mom I won’t be posting that for the world).

Everything seemed so colorful in the seventies.  I imagine it came from all the drugs consumed by fashion designers (just look at the swirling colors man), but I’m not sure this is necessarily the case.  People liked color and pattern, and many of those designs I see coming back today in the form of bedding and curtain panels as well as clothing.  I think folks are trying to get back to the carefree, freewheeling, and free-loving days of times gone by and I can certainly understand why.  Life seems a little too serious sometimes, and I think we could all benefit from a wide, flared collar and a pink and red paisley jacket (or a fur coat).

The make-up was as strong as the fashions, and I do love a good blue eye shadow on a gal from time to time.  The looks were dramatic, sometimes sexy, but definitely fun and I don’t know that things are too different these days.  I know lots of people coloring their hair in all different shades, wearing outlandish outfits in an attempt to be different and all in the name of individuality.  I appreciated seeing my family in just such a light.  Maybe they weren’t trying to be so daringly different and the fashions were very "of the times", but I like to think I can see a little personal spark and flare in the photos revealing a wilder side hidden below the surface.

The other great thing Kevin and I got to talk about was food.  We lived about five miles from each other while growing up, him in town and me out in “the sticks”.  We attended the same school, which was kindergarten through senior level of high school…needless to say it was a pretty small town.   I only had twenty-four people in my class, but he beat me with only twenty-three.  When you are in that sort of situation with the same kids for so many years, going to school is more about seeing an extended family everyday…a family you eventually want to kill because they are driving you absolutely insane.  But I digress…as I was saying, the food.

Our school cafeteria served lunch in two shifts (from what we could remember).  The elementary school went first, and then the junior high/high school kids ate at the second shift.  Most of our food was surprisingly “homemade” (as much as could be at the time).   We were such a small school with not as many mouths to feed, so it was feasible that the cooks could make something tasty that amounted to more than simply opening up a jar or can.  Kevin was very, very fond of the cinnamon rolls we used to get as well as the peach cobbler.  I too remember those desserts quite fondly along with some other choice items like the peanut butter/honey sandwiches, the rice pudding I always doused in cinnamon sugar and for some reason the taco boats.

In hindsight, we were pretty lucky to have people caring enough about our school lunches to try and make them enjoyable.  In the same vein, I wanted to create something enjoyable to commemorate not only Kevin’s visit, but also his fond “school lunch” memories of growing up.  I decided to make a cobbler, mainly because he’d attempted one recently without the best results and because it sounded really good to me. 

Cobblers and crisps always seem to be a favorite no matter whom you ask.  A mom or a grandma usually has some secret recipe that their kids or grandkids find to be the best.  Sometimes there are pastry toppings, sometimes biscuits and in the case of crumbles there are often oatmeal, butter, brown sugar or other delicious goodies which brown nicely and give a crunchy topping.  I found a recipe in the June issue of Everyday Food for a cherry cobbler and retooled it to work with raspberries (because that’s what I was craving) and with the use of a food processor to speed things up. 

Making a Raspberry Cobbler is really quite simple, it comes in two parts:  a) berries mixed with sugar, cornstarch and vanilla.  b) a pastry related topping…in this case sweet and savory biscuits.   The recipe is as follows:

3 3/4 cups all-purpose flour, plus more for rolling out the dough

4 teaspoons baking powder (not 4 cups, Kevin)

1 1/2 teaspoons coarse salt

1-cup sugar

3/4-cup (1 1/2 sticks) cold unsalted butter

2 cups of cold heavy cream, plus more for brushing on the biscuit tops

2 1/4 pounds fresh raspberries

4 teaspoons cornstarch

1-teaspoon pure vanilla extract or vanilla paste

Preheat the oven to 400 degrees.  In the bowl of a food processor combine flour, baking powder, salt, and 1/2 cup sugar.  Pulse a few times to incorporate.  Cut your sticks of butter into small pieces and add them to the flour mixture.  Pulse a few more times until the butter turns into “pea-sized” pieces.  Add in the cream and pulse just until the dough comes together.  Turn the dough out onto a well- floured surface and knead it a few times to make sure all the ingredients are incorporated.  Flour your rolling pin and roll the dough out to 3/4-inch thickness.  Take a biscuit cutter or a knife and cut the desired shapes you want for the top of your cobbler.  You should end up with 8 to 12 biscuits.

Next, in another bowl combine the raspberries, 1/2 cup of sugar, cornstarch and vanilla.  Divide the mixture among 1 to 1 1/2 cup ramekins (or put it into 1 big baking dish or two smaller baking dishes…it’s up to you how you want to present this).  Top each of your baking dishes with the biscuits and brush the tops of the biscuits with cream to give a nice golden color while baking.  Bake for about 40 to 45 minutes, rotating your cobblers halfway through, until they are bubbling with juices and your biscuits are golden.  Serve with ice cream!!!

Cobblers are very easy and a comforting thing to make, and I have to say the biscuits in this recipe are truly out of this world.  I know Kevin had several choice expletives for the leftovers I sent home with him, and that made me feel really good.  It isn’t often I get to share my baking with flesh and blood family, it’s usually given out to coworkers and good friends…not that I’m complaining, but it was a real treat to eat cobbler and walk down memory lane with someone who has known me since I was a tiny little whipper-snapper and grew up in the same place I did.  A shared family memory about childhood is hard for me to come by these days (mainly because I live so far away from everyone), and I realized I wasn’t the only one who remembers things a certain way.  It confirms that I’m really not crazy after all…or am I?

So as the days of sitting in the garden, eating cobblers and sipping mint-juleps officially wind down I can be appreciative of all the season has brought my way:  sunny days of planting in the back yard, hunting for seashells by the seashore, antiques excursions and care-free trips to the farmers market are all little things that brought some joy to my life.  

I’m a firm believer we can use more joys in life.  Crazy paisley and fur aside, I think things are going pretty well.  In another 30 years someone may look at the pictures and the things I’ve written on this blog and think I really was “far out” or downright ridiculous, but it is and always will be a sign of what’s going on at this exact moment and I like it.  It’s just who I am.