Making the Most of the Local Harvest: Bourbon Caramel Peach Cobbler

I'm not usually a person who plans too far ahead.  After all, I like a bit of uncertainty in my life. And, although I can appreciate good planning as much as the next guy, I'm well aware that not every aspect of life can be perfectly orchestrated.

However, there are some areas in life which require me to exercise foresight.

When the dog days of summer have come to an end, and crisp autumnal breezes have blown their last... when the snow sits idly on the ground and the February wind whips through our hair, there's one thing for which I long: FRUIT.

We get spoiled during the summer months when sweet, ripe, locally grown fruit is at the ready just about any time we have a craving.  But, by the time January rolls around in this Wisconsin climate, I'm hard-pressed to find much beyond a few storage apples in the back of my refrigerator and insanely priced packages of frozen berries at my local coop.

So this year, we're preparing for the winter by putting up as much fruit as possible.  So far, we've managed to sock away 5 lbs of strawberries, 6 lbs of raspberries, 10 lbs of sour cherries, and (just this weekend) almost 50 lbs of Door County peaches.  I'm freezing the fruit -- in great part so that I can reduce the amount of added sugar as much as possible. But, I may also try my hand at canning a few jars of apple or pear butter by the time the season ends.

Of course, when there's this much delicious fruit lying around, it's also difficult not to enjoy a bit of it while it's at its peak.  In addition to eating dozens of these lovely peaches out of hand, we also managed to enjoy a few of them in one of our favorite sweet treats.

Rather than make our usual batch of peach ice cream, we decided to go with something warm and comforting -- a peach cobbler.  But, this particular cobbler has a twist. Its peaches are cooked in a caramel sauce that's accented by a bit of Kentucky Bourbon. And the best part is - it can be made in September with the best, fresh peaches of the season.  But, it also turns out great when made in mid-February with fresh frozen peaches -- you know, the ones you stockpiled during the height of the season.

If you're using fresh peaches, you'll want to sprinkle them with a bit of sugar and allow them to sit for about 1/2 hour so that the sugar can draw out their juices.  However, if you're making it with frozen peaches, you may find that the thawed peaches produce enough juice on their own.

 Meanwhile, you mix together a sugar syrup, place it into a cast iron (or other heavy-bottomed) pan, and allow it to caramelize.

To the caramel, you'll add the juices from the peaches, a bit of butter, and a splash of bourbon.  Toss the caramel with the peaches, and top the fruit with a classic crumble mixture (made from butter, flour, brown sugar, another splash of bourbon, some oatmeal, and a pinch of salt) and a few chopped pecans.

 Bake until caramel is bubbly and topping is crisp and browned.  And serve warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.

I could begin to tell you all about how delicious this cobbler is -- how the bourbon flavor cuts the sweetness of the caramel and enhances the fruitiness of the peaches.  I could describe the buttery topping -- which is crusty and light and nutty all at the same time.   Or I could just stand by and let you make your own -- which is probably the smart thing to do.


Bourbon Caramel Peach Cobbler


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Using and Preserving Summer Herbs: Rosemary Comes to Dinner

I've been friends with Rosemary for a long time now. When we first met, she was dry, and her disposition sharp.  When we talked, I always seemed to get her caught in my teeth.  And I couldn't seem to appreciate her harshness.

However, as the years wore on, I found that there were many sides to Rosemary.  If I caught her in the morning, fresh from the garden, her smell was intoxicating -- a bit like fresh pine boughs, and filled with the earth.  But, if left alone for too long, she grew parched and brittle, and her perfume would start to smell astringent.

Her marriage to garlic is almost too good to be true. But, it's taken many years of practice.  When they first met, they both tried to hog the spotlight. Inevitably, one of them ended up wounded or broken. But, over the years the two lovers have learned to move together in perfect harmony. And everyone is happier -- including the neighbors.

Although she turns some people off with her assertiveness, I'm Rosemary's biggest fan. You always know where you stand when you're with her. And there's no hiding behind false pretenses. She puts herself right out there in front, and you can't help but notice her.  And I'll be honest, that's a big part of her appeal.

I had her over for dinner the other night. At first, we were uncertain about what to make. So, we took a trip to the supermarket. Rosemary pointed to the tender young Strauss free-raised veal shanks and smiled. I knew then that we were in for something special.

 She took me by the arm and led me back into the kitchen. And that's where the lessons began.  I learned to rely on the basics -- celery, onions, carrots, a splash of white wine, and very good chicken stock.  But, she also taught me to think outside the box -- adding petitely diced guanciale, briny anchovy filets, last summer's dried Principe Borghese tomatoes, and (of course) a generous helping of garlic.

As the ingredients simmered, I was mesmerized by how the ingredients danced together -- playing off of one another's strengths, waxing and waning and gradually mellowing.  And, as the components came together, they formed a symphony of flavors... of colors...

With Rosemary at the helm, I began to realize that it couldn't help but become a thing of beauty.  So, I reliquished control. While Rosemary worked her magic, I pulled together a pot of risotto. Simple. Elegant. Embellished only by a grating of Carr Valley Gran Canaria -- an intensely nutty cheese that I figured would be the perfect match for Rosemary's intensity.

The dance took almost two hours to complete, but when we finished, I wasn't even tired. In fact, I felt invigorated. Delighted. Inspired. And as we finished, I couldn't help but savor those final bits of sauce -- deliciously unctuous and smooth, subtly herbal, and ... well, perfect.

Sometimes there's nothing like a new dinner with an old friend.


Osso Buco with Rosemary & Sundried Tomatoes

This guest post wraps up our Summer 2010 Herb Series: Using and Preserving Herbs. Thanks to everyone for making this series such a great success!  And we wish you much luck making use of your bountiful harvest.


©BURP! Where Food Happens