Everything Crumble

I sometimes think that one of my greatest problems as an improvisational cook is my tendency to put too many things in a dish.  One of these days I'm going to learn to play it simple. 

Not that a long ingredient list means a bad dish, by any means.  Just yesterday, for example, I made braised lamb shanks that were a sort of hybrid, with a Middle Eastern spice blend and vegetable combo, but some red wine and thyme in there too.  They turned out well; the flavors built on each other for a kind of complex layering effect.  But there are times when it all goes into overkill and becomes just too much, too muddy, so that nothing has the taste of itself cuddled up to other ingredients. 

My other example of what I made yesterday isn’t really going to prove my point about simplifying either.  I made a crumble.  You see, we still have that nice ricotta gelato in the freezer from last week, and we needed something to go under it.  And G loves crumbles.  He especially loves apple crumble, since he is a fan of all things apple as well as all things crumble.  Last year I made rhubarb crumble, and even though G thought he didn't like rhubarb, he loved that crumble.  "You like the rhubarb, don't you honey?" I said with the eagerness of a tail-wagging puppy.  He fixed me with an ironic yet kindly gaze.  "I like the crumble part of the crumble."  That phrase, of course, has become a household saying.  And this weekend, there was rhubarb, lovely rhubarb in the fridge.

The competition for rhubarb at Fairway is fierce these days, and there were just three smallish stalks, about a pound remaining when I arrived for my weekly shop the other day.  Not quite enough to do a crumble on their own; however, I also had raspberries.  They’re not seasonal yet, but they have been extremely delicious of late and available at a price within reason.  Then there were these fabulous French dried apricots, part of a range of dried fruits that are exclusive to Fairway (they import them and re-package them in the store, so I don’t even know where in France they come from or who the producer is.   They’re amazing, though – plump, tender, almost juicy; like a cross between fresh and dried fruit.  So far I’ve had the figs and the apricots, and both were the best of their kind that I’ve ever tasted).  The fridge also held one last red pear, and some rushing-the-season, less-than-perfect, we-had-to-make-a-long-trip-to-get-here-and-that’s-why-we’re-expensive cherries. 

So, once again, too many ingredients:  an Everything Crumble.  No matter, I sliced and diced and sugared and crumbled and baked.  And proved that sometimes, too many elements can combine to make one very good thing indeed. 

Everything Crumble
The quantities for fruit given here are somewhat random; they were dependent on what I had on hand.  You too should use what you have.  You can skip the flour in the filling if you like -- it's not enough to really thicken the juices.  They remain nice and runny; the flour just keeps them from making the crumble soggy.

Fruit mixture:
1 lb. rhubarb, untrimmed weight
1 cup plump, moist dried apricots, cut in halves or quarters
1 ripe red pear, sliced
1/2 cup sweet cherries, pitted and halved
1 Tbsp. flour
2 Tbsp. sugar
2 Tbsp. brown or dark muscovado sugar
2 tsp. blood orange vinegar
1/2 tsp. Madagascar vanilla
grated zest of 1 orange, or 1/2 tsp. orange oil
1 cup raspberries

Crumble topping:
1 cup flour
scant cup packed light brown or light muscovado sugar
3/4 cup rolled oats
1/2 tsp. salt 
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
10 T. butter, cold and diced
1/2 cup pecans, lightly toasted and coarsely chopped

Preheat oven to 350F.

In large bowl, toss trimmed, cleaned and sliced rhubarb gently with apricots, pear, cherries, flour, sugars, vinegar, vanilla and zest until mixture is well combined.   Place in a buttered round or oval casserole, so that fruit comes to a depth of about 2 inches.  I used a large round fluted dish about 12" in diameter.  Lay the raspberries evenly over the top of the rest of the fruit.

In small bowl, stir together flour, brown sugar, oats, salt, cinnamon and nutmeg. Cut in butter with pastry blender until mixture resembles coarse meal. Stir in nuts.

Sprinkle the topping evenly over the fruit. Bake the crisp for 40-45 minutes or until the fruit is bubbling and the crumb topping is golden.

Comments

[rowena]

Ha! Too many ingredients... hehe, sounds like me at times, especially when I've had one too many sips of wine while cooking. I end up doing a little 'Julie Child' impersonation and my husband thinks I've gone off the deep end.

I am so jealous that you are able to get rhubarb!

[Julie]

Rowena, I have to say I do love rhubarb, and I make the most of it during rhubarb season. But the produce you get in Italian markets is so incredible -- what I wouldn't give for some good blackberries right about now...

[Lisa]

Oh my god! If you're loving those fruits ... Fairway has pruneaux d'Agen! Ain't local no matter how I spin it ... but man. I can't even type in full sentences here, is what I'm saying. Please buy them! You'll never look back.

peace
Lisa

[John]

Brilliant as usual. It's inspired me to get my wife back into the kitchen (joking!). Can't wait to try it out.

[Julie]

Lisa, I'm definitely going to try the pruneaux D'Agen, even though I'm not that much of a prune lover.

John, thanks for your kind comment. Let me know how it crumbles for you.

[Moira]

Oh, Julie- I am a fan of all things crumbled...and buckled, and grunted, and crisped (you get the idea)- your creation sounds amazing!