A peachy (maybe) cobbler idea

During the holidays we were at a party where the talk turned to peach cobbler. At the first mention of the words, "Peach Cobbler," you can instantly spot the Southerners in the crowd. Their cheeks turn rosy, their teeth show, and their eyes take on more intense values of blue, brown, green, or in my case, hazel.

One by one, the Westerners, Northerners and Easterners peel away from this Southern core, because they realize they have heard enough about peach cobbler when it is apparent the Southern core is just getting started.

It is an amazing thing. Over the years, I have noticed that, wherever I travel, domestic or overseas, when I mention to a local that I am from San Diego, that local will immediately say, "Oh, I've got a sister in Chula Vista!" Chula Vista is a principal city in the San Diego metropolitan area, and I have often thought I should stand on a street corner there and announce in a strong voice, "I have been to Italy!" and see how many women stop, and turn, and say, "I have kinfolks there!"

Likewise in a circle of the peach cobbler-savvy, every person's mother, or grandmother, in the group makes, or made, the best peach cobbler on the planet. Including my grandmother Susie. Her secret was the bottom crust, only it was not a crust so much as it was a peachy, steamy, savory-sweet dumpling. I have tried and tried, and every time, my bottom crust gets brown on the bottom and thus becomes as ordinary as pie crust. I brag about Susie's bottom crust, to the extent that soon most of the core has peeled away, save for an exceptionally polite Southerner or two who don't want to see me standing alone, naked as an artichoke heart, gushing to no one about a dumpling bottom crust.

Then last night I made a discovery. I lunched yesterday with Jon Standefer, my old Texas pal, at The Fish Market on the bay in San Diego. When we were finished, there were three slices of sourdough bread left, thick and slightly toasted at the edges. I asked Oscar, the oyster bar chef, to put them in a bag to take home.

Last night I put the slices in the bottom of a baking dish and spooned in a middle-sized can of Dinty Moore Beef Stew. The weather had turned sprinkly and I was aiming for something simple and hearty. I heated it for half an hour in a 325 toaster oven. The result was excellent. I fished to the bottom and cut off a bite of bread, now soft and steamy and sauced, and not only did it hit the spot, it reminded me of a dumpling. A very good dumpling, in fact. Dumplings are not all that hard to make, but if simple and hearty is your aim, why not use thick-sliced sourdough instead?

Then, just now, as I was sitting down to write this, I asked myself: What if you made peach cobbler with thick sourdough slices for the bottom crust? If I had a Webcam, you would see that my cheeks have become rosy, my teeth are showing, and my eyes are a roaring hazel. Don't try this at home until I have experimented; it may not work with peaches. But it damn sure does with Dinty Moore Beef Stew. Try it sometime. Just be sure the sourdough is an inch thick and has a good bite, not that cottony supermarket stuff. Trader Joe's has good sourdough, and a great whole-grain, maple-y, wheat loaf. Hey . . . .