Oatmeal Almond Blueberry Crisp

Tu B'Shevat — the New Year of the Trees — which is a minor Jewish holiday that most people skip but which I observe because I am a woman who does not skip holidays and because the idea of a new year for trees is beautiful: the notion that even in January, when everything looks dead, the sap is rising, the roots are working, the life is happening underground, invisible, unstoppable. I served dried fruits and nuts for the holiday — figs, dates, almonds, apricots — the fruits of Israel, the fruits of the ancient land, eaten in a kitchen on Long Island in January because tradition is a long thread and you hold your end of it and trust that the other end is held by someone, somewhere, doing the same.

Ethan lost his first tooth this week — David called to report, with the slightly performative excitement of a parent who knows that tooth loss is not actually exciting but who is committed to the theater of childhood milestones. "The tooth fairy brought five dollars," David said. I said, "Five dollars? I got a quarter." David said, "Inflation, Mom." I said, "Inflation is for groceries, not fairies." He laughed. I laughed. These conversations — the small, normal, funny conversations about grandchildren and teeth and the appropriate compensation for lost enamel — are the ballast. They keep the ship level. They remind me that life continues in its ordinary, ridiculous, wonderful way, even alongside the extraordinary grief of watching Marvin fade.

I made a fruit compote — the Tu B'Shevat fruits, simmered in wine and honey with cinnamon and cloves until they become a warm, fragrant, jewel-colored stew that is closer to dessert than to anything else but which I serve as a side because I don't need a reason for sweetness. I need sweetness. I claim it. I claim every small sweetness I can find in a year that is testing my capacity for endurance, and I eat the compote and taste the figs and think of the trees and the sap rising and the invisible work of survival. I am a tree in January. The work is underground. But I am working.

The compote I made for Tu B’Shevat was about necessity as much as tradition — I needed something that smelled like warmth and tasted like a decision to keep going. When I want to bring that same spirit to a table where the grandchildren might actually sit down, this oatmeal almond blueberry crisp is where I land: fruit and nuts together, sweetened with honey, baked until the kitchen smells like something worth staying for. The almonds are there, just as they were on my Tu B’Shevat plate, and the fruit bubbles up through the oats the way sap moves through a January tree — quietly, insistently, alive.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 40 minutes | Total Time: 55 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

For the filling:
4 cups fresh or frozen blueberries
2 tablespoons honey
1 tablespoon lemon juice
1 teaspoon lemon zest
1 tablespoon cornstarch
For the crisp topping:
1 cup old-fashioned rolled oats
1/2 cup sliced almonds
1/3 cup all-purpose flour (or almond flour for a nuttier flavor)
1/3 cup packed brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
5 tablespoons unsalted butter, cold and cut into small pieces
1 tablespoon honey

Instructions

Preheat. Heat your oven to 350°F. Lightly butter an 8x8-inch or similar 2-quart baking dish.
Make the filling. In a large bowl, toss the blueberries with honey, lemon juice, lemon zest, and cornstarch until evenly coated. Pour into the prepared baking dish and spread in an even layer.
Make the topping. In a separate bowl, combine the oats, sliced almonds, flour, brown sugar, cinnamon, and salt. Add the cold butter pieces and the honey. Use your fingertips to work the butter into the oat mixture until it resembles coarse, clumping crumbs with some pea-sized pieces of butter remaining.
Assemble. Scatter the crisp topping evenly over the blueberry filling, pressing it gently so it adheres in places but remains loose and crumbly in others.
Bake. Bake uncovered for 38 to 42 minutes, until the topping is deep golden and the blueberry filling is bubbling up around the edges.
Rest and serve. Let the crisp rest for 10 minutes before serving. Serve warm, with a spoonful of Greek yogurt, a pour of cream, or simply as it is — it needs nothing.

Nutrition (per serving)

Oatmeal Almond Blueberry Crisp — Claiming Every Small Sweetness