I am always on the watch for what I call the "proscenium effect" after a rainstorm. You have seen a proscenium effect ("proscenium" means the wall that separates the stage from the audience and makes an arch over it) if you have ever sat in a theater with darkness overhead and darkness below and a wonderful slash of light coming from the stage. Tonight looked like a good bet. The back edge of the storm was moving inland from the ocean just as the sun was dropping into position to light up the eastern horizon. But then the overhead lighting director fell asleep and let the black ceiling break into clouds and sky. Imagine if the sky above the house in this photo was a black ceiling. That would put the house into the proscenium effect I keep watching for.
It didn't happen, but I can't complain too much about the result. Below, I cheated some with a tight shot to take out the blue sky, and it gives an idea what a good proscenium effect might look like. You can only do so much with the timing of these things.
First of all, you can't put peaches, bing cherries, Trader Joe's whole grain artisanal loaf, butter, cinnamon, and peach schnapps together and somehow manage to screw it up.
At the same time, some original recipes take a little work. In my second attempt at Cobbler Jubilee, for example, I plan to drain the heavy syrup off the bing cherries. This first version came out too wet.
Here's how it went. I got a Rosemary Sourdough loaf and the whole grain loaf at Trader Joe's. I cut the bottom crust off the sourdough and cubed enough to pack into a single layer in the bottom of a lightly buttered three-quart Corningware casserole. As you recall, the goal was to create a peach cobbler with a dumpling-like bottom crust. Having achieved that by baking Dinty Moore Beef Stew on top of take-home sourdough from the Fish Market, I reasoned the same result might be possible with peaches.
I mixed together a 29-ounce can of sliced cling peaches in heavy syrup and a 13-ounce can of bing cherries in heavy syrup (this is the syrup I will omit next time). I added a teaspoon of cinnamon and a couple tablespoons of peach schnapps. My original vision called for Grand Marnier, until I saw the price of Grand Marnier. From the liquor department I walked to the meat cases and saw for the price of one bottle of Grand Marnier, I could buy 12 pounds of hamburger. I knew we had triple sec at home and decided that would work. Then I the liquor cabinet, behind the triple sec, I spotted a bottle of peach schnapps. I have no idea how we came into possession of a bottle peach schnapps, but for a Cobbler Jubilee experiment it was serendipitous, and free.
I poured the fruit mixture into the casserole, instantly wondering if I should have put in a second layer of sourdough. There was a reason, incidentally, for using rosemary sourdough; same reason I added the bing cherries. It would give the cobbler a Tuscan influence. Then when a guest said the cherries gave it a Tuscan influence, I could nod and refer to, also, a hint of rosemary. Guests might also surmise that the name, "Cobbler Jubilee" derived from the bing cherries, which star in the classic dessert, Cherries Jubilee.
The whole grain loaf was dense, slightly sweet, and with a nuttiness provided by the whole grains. I cubed enough to cover the top generously, swirled the cubes in melted butter, and spread them over the top, pressing them down gently into the fruit. I baked it at 350 for 45 minutes.
It smelled great, but it came out too wet. Even after cooling, the bottom crust was soggy, and there was some standing juice. I like my cereal soggy, but not my bottom crust, which had been saturated beyond the desired dumplingness. I tasted the crust while it was still warm, and it was definitely soggy. Our friend Janie, who is a fellow Southerner, dropped in just at that time, and I sent some home with her to share with Roland. That was day before yesterday, and I have not heard from them, so it's not likely they thought it was the best thing they had ever eaten.
I refrigerated it, and yesterday morning heated up a bowlful for breakfast. Not bad. Less syrup next time, and I am toying with the idea of the whole grain on both the top and bottom.
This is from yesterday morning, Feb. 11. That line of cloud is the contrail of a jetliner, headed for Los Angeles from South America. Every morning, that contrail appears and provides me a terrific lift before my day even begins. I am so happy not to be on that airplane.
Earlier this week, the Sun began its transit of Dolly's Right One, which is the most prominent feature in the Alta Mira Calendar. Through binoculars or a telephoto lens, the Sun, just as it begins to appear, lights up the distant ridgeline as if it had caught fire. On some mornings you can see the silhouettes of individual trees outlined for an instant against the brilliance. The sequence below offers a glimpse of that presence. In the top photo, you can just see the first speck of Sun, then the ridge catches fire, and then the Sun appears. The last photo is pulled back to show Tut on the right as a reference of where we are on the calendar. This morning, the Sun would have transited the summit of Dolly's Right One, but it was cloudy, darn it. For a closer look, you can click on the photos to expand them.
I am hearing from people who think I am the Michael Grant who wrote “Gone,” a popular novel published last summer. Actually I am not that Michael Grant, or the Michael Grant who is a deceased English scholar, a New York crime writer, a heavyweight boxer, a 12th-century baron, a character in the “Manhunt” video game, an Arizona television personality, a Washington Redskins cornerback, or a hockey player.
I do pop up third, among 381,000 results, if you Google “Michael Grant.” That is mainly because I have posted a mess of blogs in the last four years, and every blog I write, when it encounters a search spider in the byways and barrooms of the Web, influences that spider to identify with me. I am the Michael Grant whose Google results tagline reads, “Life is infinitely interesting, as long as you are interested in life.” (Hint to the other 380,997 MGs out there: if you want to move up on the list, write a blog.)
I am the Michael Grant who, among other works, wrote “Michael Grant’s Cookbook.”
In the cookbook is the recipe for peach cobbler that I was blogging about recently. I don’t care which other MG you talk to, none of them will know as much about bottom crust as I do, even though it is only theoretical knowledge. I write about it very warmly, in the cookbook, but I never can get it to come out right, which is to say like a dumpling. Jessie, on the other hand, brought over peach cobbler for dinner the other night. She said she made it from my recipe, and it had a terrific, doughy, bottom crust. Can you see the unfairness here? I heated up the last of it for breakfast yesterday morning, poured a little half-and-half over, and it was like I was back at my grandmother’s table again.
I promised the visitors who have made me No. 3 on the Google returns an experiment with peach cobbler that uses high-quality sourdough to achieve the desirable dumplingness on the bottom. I discovered by accident that Dinty Moore Beef Stew poured over inch-thick slices of sourdough in Corningware and then baked at 325 for 30 minutes produces a terrific dumpling effect. It should work with peach cobbler, but I need to try it first. I haven’t yet, because we have all been glued to the bread-and-water news about the economy. My old cookbook was based on recipes my grandmother used to “stretch things” during and after the Great Depression; wading through the present doom and gloom, it occurs to me to revise the book and publish it as “Stimulus Cooking.”
Of course a recipe, even in experimental form, is only a starting place. Lately I have developed a vision of sourdough on the bottom, a mix of syrupy peaches and bing cherries with a dollop of Grand Marnier inside, and on the top, cubed whole wheat artisan bread I get at Trader Joe’s, swirled in butter, and the whole thing baked at 350 for 25 minutes. I would call it Cobbler Jubilee. Then I might become in the public consciousness “the Michael Grant who invented Cobbler Jubilee.” Or maybe not. I swear, however, I am going to try it this weekend, which is supposed to be rainy and cozy.
It didn't happen, but I can't complain too much about the result. Below, I cheated some with a tight shot to take out the blue sky, and it gives an idea what a good proscenium effect might look like. You can only do so much with the timing of these things.
