I must admit, certain produce is drawing to a close. This may be the last weekend to make good with peaches, so use them while you can. But remember, just because the August fruits are gone, doesn’t mean the summer’s over. I’ll rebel, as usual, by swimming until the geese have flown. I love the way my lips turn a corpse-ish lavender in a late-September lake. It’s perfectly subversive because it’s a bit masochistic. It’s not easy to jump first thing into cold water, but when I’m done, the morning is mine.

I made this crumble last weekend, and there are still peaches lingering at farm stands, so I might make it again on Sunday. It was a great dessert with vanilla ice cream, although I thought it was better the next day: warmed up and served with Greek yogurt after an early swim. It’s got all the components of a satisfying breakfast–oats, stewed fruit, brown sugar. Don’t let it get away.

Happy long weekend. I hope you eek out every last, golden moment of this fleeting season.

Peach and Cherry Crumble

Makes 8 slices

Preheat oven to 350.

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For the fruit:

Pit and peal 8 super-ripe peaches.

Cut 12-15 cherries in half, and pit.

Toss fruit with 1/4c all-purpose flour, 1/4 c brown sugar and the juice of 1/2 lemon.

Spread fruit evenly into a pie-plate.

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For the crumble:

Toss ½ c flour with ½ c oats, 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon and 1/4 teaspoon salt.

Once combined, add 1 c white sugar and 1/2 c gently packed brown sugar.

Blend in 1 stick of cold, diced butter until sugar, flour and butter combine. The butter should form pearl-sized crumbs.

Add 2/3 c chopped pecans to the mixture and spread evenly over fruit.

Bake for approximately 45 minutes, or until fruits are bubbling and oats are browned.

Sometimes the only ambition you need is a heap of browning bananas.

Both Christopher and I recently both bought bunches, and the next thing I knew, our kitchen was overcome with the smell of very ripe fruit. I came home one afternoon and realized I had to put away (or put up) five bananas before the morning, or I might not get any at all. Another neglected foodstuff came quickly to mind. And so breakfast for the week was born.

And then breakfast for another week. And snacks. I made my latest batch into muffins, so they could be toted around or easily frozen. I haven’t had to save any yet, though. I think I’ll probably just make a batch of muffins every Sunday, and finish them off by Friday. Aside for the time this loaf is in the oven, it takes longer to wash the two bowls than to use them for mixing. And there’s not a single, regrettable item in the batter.  Unless you don’t like bananas or buckwheat.

Buckwheat Banana Bread

Makes 8 slices or 12 muffins

1/2 cup buckwheat flour
1/4 cup whole wheat flour
1/4 cup oats (toast lightly in a dry skillet until golden)
1 tsp cinnamon
1/4 c toasted, chopped walnuts or pecans (plus extra for garnish) 
1/2 tsp salt
1/2 c birch sugar (or 1 c regular sugar)
5 ripe bananas, 4 mashed + 1 sliced for garnish
2 large eggs, whisked
1 c plain yogurt

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Pre-heat the oven to 350.

Mix the flours, oats, salt and spices in a medium-sized bowl.

Mix the mashed banana, sugar and yogurt in a large bowl.

Add the flour to the wet ingredients and stir gently to combine.

Pour the batter into a greased and floured bread pan.

Garnish with sliced bananas and nuts, and bake for 35-45 minutes.

(If you do these as muffins, bake only 20-25 minutes.)

A classic pecan pie should have a few things: some orange zest, a flaky crust, and a layer of fat pecans embedded in soft caramel. I like it best when the pecans are candied through and though. This is accomplished by pouring a warm mixture of sugar and butter over the nuts after laying the pecans in the crust: they get  lacquered then rise up. They get extra crunchy when they bake. I will never understand the decision to leave a layer of naked nuts sitting on top of a pie.

I like mine with coffee ice cream (a Northerner’s touch).

Classic Southern Pecan Pie

From the final issue of Gourmet.

Pastry dough (see below)
¾ stick butter
1 ¼ c packed brown sugar
¾ c corn syrup
2 tsp pure vanilla extract
½ tsp grated orange zest
¼ tsp salt
3 large eggs
2 c pecans

Preheat oven to 350, with baking sheet on middle rack.

On a lightly floured surface, roll out dough with a rolling pin (also lightly floured) into a 12 inch round and fit into a 9 inch pie plate. (I had a slightly larger tart plate, and was able to roll the dough thin.)

Trim edges until you have a ½ inch overhang. Tuck extra dough under and lightly press against the rim of the plate, creating a lip. “Crimp decoratively,” Gourmet instructs.

Lightly prick bottom of pastry with a fork, then chill until firm, at least 30 minutes—or freeze 10 minutes.

Meanwhile, melt butter in a small, heavy saucepan over medium heat.

Add brown sugar, and whisk until smooth and thick.

Remove from heat and whisk in corn syrup, vanilla, zest and salt.

Lightly beat eggs in a medium bowl, then whisk in corn syrup mixture.

Put pecans in pie shell and pour sugar mixture evenly over them. Bake until filling is set, approximately 50 minutes. Cool completely before eating.

Pastry Dough

1 ¼ c all purpose flour
1 stick cold, unsalted butter cut into ½ inch pieces
¼ tsp salt
3 to 5 T ice water

Blend together four, butter and salt in a bowl with your fingertips until mixture resembles coarse meal with some pearl-sized lumps.

Drizzle 3 T ice water evenly over mixture and gently stir with a fork until incorporated.

Squeeze a small handful to see if batter comes together. If not, add a bit more water until it does, ½ T at a time. DO NOT OVERWORK, or pastry dough will become tough.

Turn out dough onto a lightly floured surface and divide into 4 portions. Press each portion with the heal of your hand, smearing dough forward to distribute fat.

Gather dough together with a pastry scraper or butter knife and press into a 5 inch disk. Chill, in plastic wrap at least 1 hour. (Can be chilled up to 3 days.)

My mother and Christopher share a lot of things, none the least of which is incredible ambition and a love of hard work, which, I believe, is at the heart of their thirst. Predictably, when we were all together at Easter, my mother and husband could be seen ambling down the hill to the dock, glasses in hand. They sat together, talking, staring at the water, reading books, and enjoying one of the most civilized habits I can think of.

Nothing makes me happier than observing their ritual from the front porch. I watch them in the distance, two little figures with sandy hair flapping in the wind. I like to show up at seven or so, to give them some time on their own. That said, I can’t resist having my presence felt somewhat, and this past visit, I did it through a bowl of spicy nuts.  Frankly, it felt like defying the laws of nature: I was there for the nightly ritual while simultaneously pedaling away into the sunset.

At four o’clock, I searched through the cabinets and found several bags of wonderful nuts: pepitos, walnuts, pecans, cashews and almonds. I melted some butter, poured it into a ramekin with spices then spread the mix over nuts and roasted them, with just a pinch of sugar and salt. Savory, spicy, and subtly sweet, they were just right with a gin and tonic. Or so I’m told—I had them with champagne, which, may I say, is a damn good way to end a bike ride.

Spiced Nuts with Turbinado Sugar

1 lb mixed nuts
2 T butter
2 T pulverized spices: I like coriander, curry, cumin, fennel seeds
1 t turbinado sugar
pinch of kosher salt

Preheat oven to 300.
Melt butter in a small saucepan.
Mix spices in a small bowl.
Pour melted butter into spice mix and stir to blend.
Pour nuts onto a baking sheet and coat with butter mix, stirring to distribute. Sprinkle with salt and sugar.
Bake until crisp and hot, about 30 minutes, tossing several times.

Melissa Clark first pointed out this interesting distinction in 2008, in a recipe that inspired my original food blog, TASTE. She asked a friendly pastry chef what the distinction between cupcakes and muffins really was. And the answer—very little. Except the obvious things we all recognize: muffins happen at breakfast. And they usually don’t have thick coats of frosting. Muffins are a little bit crispy around the edges, maybe, and tend to have a bit of texture somewhere… nuts or something. Nobody ever puts anything in the batter of a cupcake—except maybe cream filling.

So, even if the batter is about the same, quite a few important distinctions set these pastries apart from their ‘sweeter’ kin. These are one of the best possible hybrids: gingerbread cake in the shape of a cupcake, with key attributes of a muffin. If that’s not healthy, I don’t know what is. Best of all, they are a total meal/snack hybrid, very well accompanied by a smear of crunchy peanut butter at about 4pm.

The fact that these are more cake than muffin will become quickly apparent to the cook. The batter is extremely wet and somewhat labor intensive as far as muffins go. This is no, throw-wet-and-dry-together-and-stir affair. So don’t worry when your baking soda renders your molasses and oil a murky fizz. Fret not when you pour your liquid dough into your paper muffin cups, and try not to be alarmed by the long cooking time. Remind yourself, for just a second, that these really are miniature gingerbread cakes and then move on. Don’t dwell on the oil or sugar glaze. Just eat them for breakfast as if they were as hale as a bowl of steel cut oats. It all depends on how you think of things.

Like Melissa, I drizzled these with a bit of glaze, just to give them an extra bit of texture. I changed a few things, though. For posterity, I threw in some whole-wheat flour. I also replaced the currants with more pecans, as I am a crunchy fanatic. I couldn’t remember how these went when I baked them for the first time in April, 2008, and I almost added more flour before sending them to the oven as the batter looked too wet. I managed to control myself, which was fortunate—have I mentioned that the batter is meant to be runny? Finally, I undercooked these a touch. I like my breakfast chewy and supple. Just like dessert…

Crunchy Ginger Muffins

Makes 12 diminutive muffins
Time: 1 hour

Butter for greasing muffin tin

1 ¼ teaspoon baking soda
½ cup dark molasses
½ cup vegetable oil
2 eggs, lightly beaten
1 teaspoon grated fresh ginger
1 2/3 cup all-purpose flour
½ cup sugar
2 teaspoons ground ginger
¾ teaspoon salt
½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
Pinch ground cloves
5 tablespoons crystallized ginger, finely chopped
½ cup chopped toasted pecans
1 1/3 cups confectioners’ sugar
3 tablespoons whole milk.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees.

In a medium saucepan, boil ½ c water and pour into a large bowl.

Whisk in baking soda until dissolved, then add molasses and oil.

When mixture is tepid, whisk in eggs and grated ginger.

In a medium sized bowl, whisk flour, sugar, spices and salt.

Gently fold wet ingredients into dry and add pecans and ginger, stirring minimally.

Bake until a toothpick inserted in center of a muffin comes out clean, just under 30 minutes.

Cool in pan then transfer to wire rack.

In the meantime, whisk confectioners’ sugar and whole milk. Spoon glaze evenly over muffins. Sprinkle tops with remaining tablespoon crystallized ginger.

Yield: 1 dozen muffins.

But, they persisted in my house, a Christmas tradition handed down by my Polish Great Grandmother. When I was a kid I imagined that Russian Tea Cakes were the only cookies in Eastern Europe. It seemed fitting: they’re not too decadent, don’t require too many ingredients and seem like little snowballs that could be drifting around the other side of the Iron curtain. Even though I didn’t like them much, I used to brag about these little tea-cakes, proud was I of their ancestral history. As a kid, I described to friends and classmates that we still had my Great Grandmother’s recipe, well worn and sugar-coated on an aging index card.

Then I found out that they’re also called Mexican Wedding Cakes. They are, as it turns out, a rather ubiquitous cookie—not at all unique to Poland. This discovery was made a few years ago and only strengthened my disinterest. Now they had absolutely nothing to offer—except coveted space in my stomach where another cookie might fit instead.

Well time does a funny thing to taste buds. In a scant few years I’ve come to love these little morsels as much as any, comforted by the fact that multiple culture have laid claim just as I have. And although I’ve never had these at a wedding, they really do go great with tea, which is exactly how I’m enjoying them now.

Russian Tea Cakes AKA Mexican Wedding Cakes
Makes about 4 dozen

Preheat oven to 400.

Mix thoroughly together (a Kitchen Aid really helps)

1 c soft butter
½ c sifted confectioner’s sugar
1 t vanilla

Sift together and stir in

2 ¼ c sifted flour
¼ t salt
¾ c finely chopped walnuts (though pecans would do)

Have ready

1 ½ c sifted confectioners’ sugar

Chill dough. Don’t worry: it will look crumbly, but will form smooth balls when pressed between warm palms.

Roll dough into 1” balls. Place 2 ½ inches apart on an un-greased cookie sheet.

Bake approximately 10 minutes, or until just slightly brown.

Remove from heat and let sit just a few minutes—roll in sugar while still warm but not piping hot.

Roll once more in sugar after cookies have cooled completely.

Store in a sealed container for up to 5 days.