Mini Fruit Crisps (You Choose The Fruit!)

The Lowcountry boil. September 2028. Two hundred and sixty people. The boil has passed a quarter thousand. It is no longer an event. It is an institution. It is the thing that First African Baptist Church is known for, beyond the sermons and the choir and the two-hundred-year history — the boil. The September boil. Dot Henderson's boil. The boil that has been growing for as long as some of the attendees have been alive and that will continue growing after I stop being the one who runs it, which is a thought I don't like having but which the seventy-two-year-old knees and the diabetes and the simple math of mortality require me to consider.

Not yet. Not this year. This year I stood at the seasoning station from six a.m. to three p.m. and I seasoned every pot and I served every plate and the brown sugar went in the way it always goes in — secretly, perfectly, the last ingredient no one knows about and everyone tastes. The boil was flawless. The shrimp were Miss Vernelle's (she is ninety now, still pulling from the marsh, still providing, still powered by something that time cannot touch). The corn was sweet. The sausage was smoked. The potatoes were done.

Gladys brought her cobbler. I tasted it (she was arguing with someone about parking, I had a window). Nine. It was a nine. NINE. Gladys hit nine. I am — and I cannot believe I am saying this — I am looking over my shoulder. Not with fear — with respect. Gladys at nine is a different animal. Gladys at nine is a contender. My cobbler is still a ten. My cobbler will always be a ten. But the gap is one point, and one point is close, and close is the most dangerous distance in a cobbler rivalry because close means the next cobbler could be the one.

I will tell Gladys none of this. The rivalry requires silence on the subject of progress. The silence is the fuel. The fuel is the baking. The baking is the love.

Michael and Pearl were both at the boil. Michael ate shrimp and corn. Pearl ate mashed sweet potato from a container I brought. They were there. Both of them. At the boil. At the institution. Part of the thing that I built, piece by piece, year by year, pot by pot. They are in the boil now. The boil is in them. The inheritance is being delivered, one plate at a time.

Now go on and feed somebody.

The boil feeds two hundred and sixty people, but the cobbler rivalry — that’s a private matter between me and Gladys, and this year it got considerably less private when she pulled a nine. I don’t make cobbler at home the way I make it for the church; at home I make these little individual fruit crisps, which let me practice the thing that matters most in any fruit dessert: reading the fruit, trusting the heat, and knowing when to stop. If Gladys is coming for my ten, then I intend to be ready, one small crisp at a time.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 4

Ingredients

3 cups fresh or frozen fruit of your choice (peaches, blueberries, blackberries, cherries, or a mix), sliced or halved as needed
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1 teaspoon cornstarch
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
For the crisp topping:
3/4 cup old-fashioned rolled oats
1/4 cup all-purpose flour
1/4 cup packed light brown sugar
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/8 teaspoon fine salt
4 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Heat your oven to 375°F. Place four 6-ounce ramekins on a rimmed baking sheet lined with parchment paper.
Prepare the fruit filling. In a medium bowl, combine your chosen fruit with the granulated sugar, cornstarch, lemon juice, and vanilla extract. Toss gently until the fruit is evenly coated. Divide the filling evenly among the four ramekins.
Make the crisp topping. In a separate bowl, stir together the oats, flour, brown sugar, cinnamon, and salt. Add the cold butter pieces and use your fingertips to work the butter into the dry ingredients until the mixture resembles coarse, clumpy crumbs with some pea-sized pieces remaining.
Top and bake. Spoon the crisp topping evenly over each ramekin of fruit, pressing it down gently so it holds together slightly. Bake on the middle rack for 28–32 minutes, until the topping is deep golden brown and the fruit filling is bubbling around the edges.
Cool slightly and serve. Let the crisps rest for at least 10 minutes before serving — the filling will thicken as it cools. Serve warm, plain or with a scoop of vanilla ice cream or a dollop of whipped cream.

Nutrition (per serving)

Mini Fruit Crisps (You Choose The Fruit!) — The Cobbler That Keeps Me Honest