Strawberry Buttermilk Skillet Shortcake

May and the rhubarb is up. Red stalks pushing through the same ground they've pushed through every May for thirty-seven years, indifferent to everything. I made the jam on Saturday — the fourth year in a row since I started making it on my own — six jars, Helen's recipe, the same hex-lid jars, the same process. The smell of it cooking is what it has always been. I opened the first jar immediately and spread it on bread and stood at the counter and ate it and thought: yes. That's right. Same every year and right every year.

Carol planted her Stowe garden this week and called to talk through it. She's growing things she's never grown before: several kinds of squash, beans, the cherry tomatoes I recommended. Her cold frame is a new addition this year, built by a neighbor's son who does carpentry. She sounded excited, which is the right way to sound about a new garden in May.

Teddy's cooking lessons have continued through spring, the Sunday evening call. We made fresh pasta this week — his request — and he guided me through how he makes it now, which is different from how I taught him and better in certain ways. He's developed his own version. He uses more egg yolk than flour calls for. The result is richer. I told him: your pasta is better than mine now. He was quiet for a moment, processing this, and then said: that's the point, right? I said: yes. That's exactly the point.

The tomatoes go in the ground next week. The last frost date has passed. The plants are ready and I'm ready and the ground is ready. May is the month you've been working toward since February.

The jam is made and the jars are sealed, and Teddy’s voice saying that’s the point, right? has stayed with me all week. If the point is that the next generation improves on what you gave them, then maybe the point of six jars of rhubarb jam is to put one of them to use in something new — not Helen’s recipe exactly, but adjacent to it, the same spirit. This strawberry buttermilk skillet shortcake is what came to mind: a cast-iron pan, a simple batter, fruit that’s just now coming into season alongside the rhubarb, and enough room to spoon a little jam alongside if you want to. It’s a May dessert. It tastes like the month you’ve been working toward.

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 30 minutes | Total Time: 45 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

2 cups fresh strawberries, hulled and halved
2 tablespoons granulated sugar, divided
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 cup cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes, plus 1 tablespoon for the skillet
3/4 cup cold buttermilk
1 large egg
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 tablespoon coarse sugar, for topping
Whipped cream or vanilla ice cream, for serving

Instructions

Macerate the strawberries. Toss the halved strawberries with 1 tablespoon of the granulated sugar in a small bowl. Let them sit at room temperature for at least 15 minutes while you prepare the batter. They will release their juices and soften slightly.
Preheat and prepare the skillet. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Place a 10-inch cast-iron skillet over medium heat and melt 1 tablespoon of butter, swirling to coat the bottom and sides evenly. Remove from heat and set aside.
Mix the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, remaining 1 tablespoon granulated sugar, baking powder, baking soda, and salt until well combined.
Cut in the butter. Add the cold cubed butter to the flour mixture. Using your fingertips or a pastry cutter, work the butter into the flour until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs with a few pea-sized pieces remaining. Do not overwork.
Combine the wet ingredients. In a small bowl or measuring cup, whisk together the buttermilk, egg, and vanilla extract. Pour the wet mixture into the dry ingredients and stir gently with a fork just until a shaggy dough comes together. A few dry streaks are fine — do not overmix.
Assemble in the skillet. Transfer the batter into the prepared skillet and spread it gently to the edges with a spatula or floured fingers. Scatter the macerated strawberries and any accumulated juices evenly over the top of the batter. Sprinkle with coarse sugar.
Bake. Transfer the skillet to the preheated oven and bake for 28—32 minutes, until the top is golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the center of the batter (not a strawberry) comes out clean. The edges should pull slightly from the sides of the skillet.
Cool and serve. Allow the shortcake to cool in the skillet for at least 10 minutes before slicing. Serve warm directly from the pan with whipped cream or vanilla ice cream alongside.

Nutrition (per serving)

Strawberry Buttermilk Skillet Shortcake — When the Jam Leads You Somewhere New