Crisps are crumbles in French and a good time in any language
Whatever you call them, they're an excellent — and excellently messy — food to share with friends. Here's a choose-your-own-adventure recipe for a fruit crisp.
Bonjour! Bonjour!
It’s FRIENDSHIP FOOD week — not that every week shouldn’t be, but … Once a month I send you a recipe that’s nice to share with friends and family and people you care about. It’s my attempt to bring a little sweetness into a world that at times seems to be flying apart. Like so many of you, I’m trying to glue the bits and pieces back together again with food and friends. Along with a recipe, I also donate in your, my readers, name to an organization that helps feed people. I contributed again to World Central Kitchen, but I did it last week in the aftermath of Helene and Milton. I hope that if you were in the way of these terrible storms that you’re safe and being nourished in every way possible.
Fruity and Messy with Friends
This month’s recipe is a fruit crisp, and as I was sitting down to tell you about it, I realized that just about every FRIENDSHIP FOOD recipe I’ve sent to you has been if not messy, then just this side of it. I guess I could call the dishes rustic or casual or easy-going. The name doesn’t really matter, but the fact that they’re made to be passed around the table and, in the case of crisps, spooned out and then spooned out again, makes them the kinds of foods that you want to eat among friends, the kinds of foods that are delicious, but not so surprising that they’ll stop the conversation. Maybe that’s part of the definition of FRIENDSHIP FOOD — it’s food that makes you want to stay at the table and keep talking.
American or French or — Who Cares?
While I think of crisps and crumbles (grunts, slumps, cobblers and Bettys) as quintessentially American desserts, and maybe they are, or maybe they were — they’re all over Paris these days, where they’re usually called “crumble” (I wish I could pronounce the word with the adorableness that French people do), can be made with any fruit, and are often served with ice cream or gobs of crème fraîche. I love the baked-in-a-baby-skillet apple crumble topped with (Folderole) cheesecake ice cream and served straight from the oven at Oobatz.
And I loved the quince crisp that my friend Jennifer McLagan (she of bay-leaf generosity), made for us the other night.
In Paris, crumbles or crisps are unlikely to have oats — a favorite part of a crisp’s topping in America — but they often have nuts, maybe some slivered almonds, some chopped nuts or some chunky nuts. Jennifer’s crisp had chopped almonds and hazelnuts because, as she said, she had them in the freezer. And that’s one of the very nice things about crisps: Almost everything about them is up for grabs.
The Fruit
Over the past few weeks, I’ve made crisps with apples, with apples and a pear (leftover from a gorgonzola moment), with figs and with a combination of plums and grapes that I lightly spiced with ginger and coriander. They were all terrific, but the one with plums and grapes had an abundance of juice — I should have added some flour to the mix, instead I scooped it into bowls using a slotted spoon. In summer, I make crisps with berries or berries and peaches, with cherries and with apricots — it’s hard to get good apricots in Connecticut (not easy to get good peaches, either), but baking the fruit enhances its flavor and diminishes any flaws.
The Add-ins
I add a few spoonfuls of sugar to most crisps, especially when the fruit is not juicy, as it often the case with apples — it helps make a little syrup. And I add a spoonful or so of flour if the fruit seems exceedingly juicy (it’s what I should have done with the plums and grapes). Similarly, I might add some slivers of butter to the fruit — sometimes I dot the bottom of the dish with bits of butter and sometimes I dot the cut-up fruit. And, when the spirit moves me, I sometimes add dried fruit to the mix — I especially like tiny bits of crystalized ginger, but the ginger needs to be soft (dunk the pieces in hot water for an instant to plump them if they’re hard) and there really shouldn’t be too much of it.
The Topping
There may be more fruit than crumbs in a crisp, but the topping is an equal partner in this endeavor. I’ve got two topping recipes — think streusel, and one is a preview from KITCHEN CAKES! — and a couple of Playing Around suggestions for you (scroll down), both are meant to bake with the fruit. But you can always bake the topping ahead and have it at the ready to scatter over roasted fruit — it’s what restaurants often do. I love this roasted apricot “crisp” from one of my favorite restaurants in Paris, Juveniles.
Make a crisp. Gather around the table. Share it with friends. And talk about what makes you happy. I’ll see you back here next week.
xoxoDorie is a reader-supported newsletter. Upgrade or invite a friend to join in the adventure. Click here to manage your subscription.
💬 Send us a message request via Substack chat if you need help with your membership.
👋 Say hello and share what you're making on Facebook and Instagram.
📚 For two more apple crisp recipes, check out the Apple Custard Crisp in Everyday Dorie and the Caramel Apple Crisp in Baking with Dorie.
CHOOSE-A-FRUIT CRISP
Keep reading with a 7-day free trial
Subscribe to xoxoDorie Newsletter to keep reading this post and get 7 days of free access to the full post archives.