Cobbled Together - Recap

The recent death of Mr. Yorick has left an opening in the prestigious Institute for the Preservation of Culinary Heritage and Authenticity. Alton wants that position, so the club’s man Mr. Avery has dropped by to interview him and explain what he must do to join. At the upcoming Commodore’s Banquet Alton must prepare a fruit based dessert. The Commodore himself has written several award winning books on pie, so Alton probably can’t impress him that way. Alton selects... cobbler!

His first stop is a diner where he contacts nutritional anthropologist Deb Duchon. She’s there undercover (researching diner denizens) but she takes a few minutes to apprise Alton about the history of cobbler. Alton has a theory that the dish gets its name from its rough surface that resembles cobblestones. But he’s wrong. Deb tells him the origin of the name is simpler that that: cobbler is, well, cobbled together. There are variations: the brown betty (fruit mixed with layers of bread crumbs and sugar), the buckle (cake, fruit, and crumble topping), the crisp (fruit topped by a crispy layer), the grunt (stewed fruit with a biscuit like dough) and the pandowdy (stewed, but with a crumbly topping).

This talk gets Alton hungry enough to head back to his kitchen to make a Peach Rhubarb Cobbler. This dessert depends as much or technique and temperature as it does on ingredients. Alton mixes flour, sugar, lime zest and a pinch of kosher salt in a food processor. Then he adds chilled fats: butter and lard. And that’s when eternal battlers Tender and Flaky appear, continuing their previous tussle. Alton reminds viewers that tenderness comes from warm fat that can spread through the dough, while flakiness comes from cold fat that remains in sheets when rolled. This time, Alton selects chilled fats for flakiness and a mixture of lard and butter for flavor. He pulses them in until the mixture gets crumbly and starts to climb the side of the bowl. At that point he adds ice water, remembering that he wants to keep his fats solid. And he uses a spritzer for even distribution (Alton’s has a toothsome lizard head on it). He forms the dough into a rough disc shape and slides it into the chill chest while he makes the filling. While the flour granules soak up some water, Alton goes hunting fruit.

At the mega market, he reveals that most of the fruits that appear as preserves work well in cobblers. But there is a typical accompaniment that’s missing. Over in the produce section, The Grim Reaper (from Deadly Delicacies, Inc.) serves as a sample peddler, trying to get folks to sample fresh rhubarb. But when he calls it a fruit, Alton corrects him. Rhubarb is actually a vegetable. And despite the Reaper’s best efforts, it isn’t poisonous. The leaves contains a quantity of oxalic acid (see Notes) but the edible stems contain far less. They are, however, nasty tasting raw. Starting in late winter and going through spring, look for ruby red stalks, celery crisp and the brightest color available. At other times, hot house rhubarb will do for a substitute. It is pink, rather than red, but still tasty.

For filling, Alton starts with sugar, cornstarch and a little kosher salt. Then he cuts a pound of rhubarb (about three ribs) into ½” pieces. Rhubarb contains tannins and phenols, making it astringent. But just as aromatic bitters invigorate some cocktails, so does rhubarb add zip to many fruits and vegetables. Strawberry is the usual partner, but being a southern boy, Alton tries something different: peaches. He halves three peaches, removes the pits and cuts the fruit into wedges. A tablespoon of fresh squeezed lime juice helps prevent oxidation browning and retards mushiness. Acids (like citrus juices and vinegar) help reinforce cell walls.

Alton next butters a 9” x 9” pan and breaks about a third of his dough into pieces that he lays on the bottom of the pan. He pours the peach/rhubarb mixture on that and then rolls the rest of the dough inside the zip top bag. Cutting it apart, he discards the top piece and inverts the bottom piece onto the fruit, using the bag to gently press the dough in place. The finished cobbler goes into a 375º F oven for sixty minutes or until just golden brown and delicious. He’d increase this to ninety minutes if he was using frozen fruit. A piece of aluminum foil on the rack below the baking dish catches escaping juices and simplifies cleanup. He finishes by setting the oven to broil for three to five minutes to brown the crust, then lets it cool for fifteen to thirty minutes before eating.

Mr. Avery drops by to evaluate Alton’s performance. He likes the cobbler very much, but he hints that the Commodore might not. The Commodore prefers to celebrate happenings on the north side of the Potomac, and peaches are most definitely southern fare.

It’s back to the drawing board for Alton. His next attempt is a grunt. It has stewed fruit and a dough similar to biscuit dough. Alton starts with that dough, adding flour, baking powder, salt and baking soda to his food processor and bringing them together with a few quick spins. He works in some butter with his hands until much of it is incorporated and the rest forms small balls roughly the size of peas. This dough should become something like a dumpling, or a biscuit. That’s why he uses his fingers – their rubbing action creates the right texture. A food processor cannot. He makes a well in the middle of this mixture and fills that with buttermilk, the stirs the minimum amount necessary to bring the mixture together. He wants to combine the mixture without encouraging agglutination, which would toughen the dough. The acidity of the buttermilk is why there is baking soda in the mix. He stirs that mixture until it comes together, forms it into a ball inside parchment paper and slides that into the refrigerator.

On to the filling: blackberries, sugar, water and a little ginger go into a skillet over medium heat. Alton brings that to a simmer and cooks it for about ten minutes until it thickens. At that point the mixture is ready for the dough. Alton brings his dough out and dishes it onto the top of the filling with an ice cream scoop. Then he slides the skillet into a 400º F oven for fifteen minutes or so until the top just starts to brown. (A traditionalist would cook the mixture on the stove until the dumplings were cooked through.) Alton lets his grunt cool for a half hour before serving it.

Mr. Avery returns. The blackberry grunt would be an excellent choice, save that the Commodore is so allergic he breaks out in hives at the mere site of the purple fruit. Alas, blackberry grunt won’t do. Alton heads back to the kitchen.

Alton’s third attempt is individual berry crisps. He starts with the crisp topping, a mixture of flour, sugar, chopped nuts, crushed crackers or cereal and butter mixed to a meal-like consistency. In a second bowl, Alton mixes frozen raspberries, sugar, cornstarch and some of the crisp mixture. When that’s mixed Alton spoons it into oven-proof ramekins and tops it with more of the crisp topping. He puts these on a sheet pan and slides that into a 357º F oven until the topping has browned and the fruit bubbles, then lets them cool a few minutes before serving them. In addition to guarding against burning, that cooling period permits the sauce to thicken and gel. Avoid moving the ramekins as they cool; this can inhibit gelling.

Mr. Avery returns and he is most pleased with Alton’s latest effort. But he has more bad news. Apparently Mr. Yorick wasn’t as dead as early reports suggested, so the opening Alton sought isn’t available after all.

That’s all right, Alton thinks. He’s learned to create delicious fruit desserts and he didn’t have to join any kind of fancy schmancy club to do it.

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