On having it all

"To me, having it all - if one wants to define it at all - is the magical time when what you want and what you have match up. Like an eclipse. A perfect eclipse is when the moon is at its perigee, the Earth is farthest from the sun, and when the sun is observed near zenith. I have no idea what that means. I got the description off a science website, but one thing is clear: It's rare. This eclipse never lasts more than seven minutes.

"Personally, I believe having it all can last longer than that. It might be a fleeting moment - drinking a cup of coffee on a Sunday morning when the light is especially bright. It might also be... a three-hour lunch with my best friend... Having it all definitely involves an ability to seize the moment... It can be eating in bed when you're living on your own for the first time...

"Having it all are moments in life when you suspend judgment. It's when I attain that elusive thing called peace of mind.

"Not particularly American, unquantifiable, unidentifiable, different for everyone, but you know it when you have it.

"Which is why I love bakeries. Peace descends the second I enter, the second I smell the intoxicating aroma of fresh bread, see apricot cookies with scalloped edges, chocolate dreams, cinnamon and raisin concoctions, flights of a baker's imagination, and I know I am the luckiest person in the world. At that moment, in spite of statistical proof that this is not possible, I have it all. And not only that, I can have more."

Delia Ephron in "Sister Mother Husband Dog (Etc.)"

Cake love

"I could kill for cake. Here's the list: 1 carrot cake, 2 cheesecakes, 3 chocolate cakes, 3 slices of fruit bread, 9 slices of fruit cake, 2 slices of birthday cake, 2 slices of Pret a Manger pecan pie, 5 slices lemon cake, 1 apricot tart, half a ricotta tart, 5 fairy cakes (once you start you can't stop), 2 battenburg and a slice of walnut pie. Not bad, until you add it to the 32 biscotti, 8 flapjacks, 4 Jaffa cakes, 500g pan forte, 2 madeleines, 14 double choc chip cookies, 4 meringues, 12 amaretti and a fortune cookie, which I promptly spat out.

"I have separated puddings and cake for obvious reasons (put them together and I sound like Billy Bunter). Anyway: 3 chocolate banana fritters (which I didn't want but Ruth Watson made me eat), half a pannacotta with passion fruit, 2 mouthfuls of zabaglione, 1 apple crumble and custard, 4 plum crumbles and custard, 1 blueberry tart, 1 apricot tart, 1 raspberry tart, 1 lemon tart, 1 fig tart, 1 gooseberry tart, 6 mince pies, 1 prune tart, 1 plum pie, 5 portions of trifle and a summer pudding. On the ice cream front I managed to get by with only 2 tubs of vanilla ice, 2 of orange sorbet, 1 portion of rose, 2 of pear, and 500ml of mango. Oh, and I almost forgot, 2kg of chocolate ice cream."

Nigel Slater, in the article "Last Year I Ate...," anthologized in Bonnie Marranca's "A Slice of Life: Contemporary Writers on Food."

Is it any wonder I love him?

Three-quarters plum, one-quarter apricot

Chip Brantley remembers eating a pluot for the first time at a farmers' market in Culver City in the middle of the week.

"I was warm and hungry, and it looked like a plum... When I bit into it, it felt almost liquid, like plum jelly. I ate it outside the fruit tent, bent forward, dripping juice onto the pavement, and I used my two front teeth to scrape off the flesh that clung to the pit."

He remembers learning its name and proper pronunciation at another farmers' market a few days later.

"Feeling somewhat justified for having majored in French, I asked the man at the stand what the story was with the 'plew-ohs.' He looked over at me and said, 'PLEW-ott. PLUH-um and ay-prick-OT. Plu-ots.' 'Pluots,' I said, turning it over in my mouth."

In "The Perfect Fruit: Good Breeding, Bad Seeds, and the Hunt for the Elusive Pluot," Brantley details his affection for the unique fruit. He sings its praises. Co-founder of the website cookthink.com, he traces the development in California of the hybrid fruit and its increasing popularity among growers and shoppers in recent years.

Three-quarters plum and one-quarter apricot, the pluot is prettier and substantially sweeter than either of the individual fruits. The Flavor King, for instance, one of a handful of pluot varieties, is "dark purple, almost blue, and lightly specked with gold," Brantley tells us. It tastes "of caramel and almonds."

Pluots appeared initially in the early 1990s in markets on the West Coast, after decades of experimentation by Floyd Zaiger, "considered by many who knew about these things to be the foremost fruit breeder in the world."

A scientist in Modesto and owner of Zaiger Genetics, Zaiger, 83, has helped to create more than 200 new and improved fruits, from low-acid peaches to different types of apples and pears. For his contributions, he was awarded the American Pomological Society's Wilder Medal in 1995, "the fruiticultural equivalent of the Pulitzer Prize."

Brantley sheds light on the late Luther Burbank, too, a botanist in Northern California who cultivated numerous strains and varieties of plants during his lifetime, including the Santa Rosa plum and the plumcot, equal halves plum and apricot. He describes Burbank's work and achievements in the field, remarkable accomplishments that preceded Zaiger's by a generation.

Part personal narrative, part food world exegesis, "The Perfect Fruit..." brings to mind other nonfiction titles. The author's love for the pluot, for instance, recalls David Mas Masumoto's devotion to the peach in "Epitaph for a Peach: Four Seasons on My Family Farm."

His look into the lives of fruit breeders and his forays into the Central Valley, "that enormous trough that occupies the whole middle of California," remind us in some way of Susan Orlean's experiences with orchid collectors in South Florida in "The Orchid Thief."

And his talk of taste, of pluots grown primarily for mouth feel rather than size or durability, makes us want to re-read Russ Parsons' "How to Pick a Peach: The Search for Flavor from Farm to Table." It makes us want to celebrate, and indulge in, truly amazing summer fruit.

Straightforward and occasionally humorous, Brantley's book provides insight on a burgeoning industry, one that can benefit farmers and retailers as well as consumers. It makes agricultural science accessible, helping us to realize where some of our best foods come from and the effort involved in producing them.

(This review appears originally in the San Francisco Chronicle.)

Fruit bliss

In addition to bananas, which I always seem to have, there are plums and nectarines in the kitchen.

There are pluots - a plum and apricot hybrid - I have been meaning to taste. Three-parts plum, one-part apricot. Not to be confused with apriums - three-parts apricot, one-part plum.

There are white peaches and yellow peaches. There are kiwis from New Zealand.

In the refrigerator, there is cantaloupe and pineapple cut into chunks. There are pints of blueberries. There is a bag of cherries from Washington and a flat of strawberries from Watsonville.

This, I learn to appreciate, is Northern California in the middle of the summer. Pure fruit bliss.

Weekend cobbler

"There are two types of people in this world: those who like pie and those who prefer cobbler," Cory Schreiber and Julie Richardson write in "Rustic Fruit Desserts: Crumbles, Buckles, Cobblers, Pandowdies, and More."

Me? I like them both. Hesitant to prepare pie crust from scratch, however, I tend to make cobbler, incorporating fruits I have in the house at the time. This weekend, there are apricots.

The recipe, from Schreiber and Richardson's cookbook, calls for raspberries as well. I substitute frozen blackberries. I also decrease the amount of sugar for the filling. If I am lucky, the fruits should be sweet enough on their own.

Apricot Raspberry Cobbler

1 Tbsp. unsalted butter, at room temperature, for dish

fruit filling:

10 apricots, pitted and each sliced into 8 to 10 pieces
2 cups raspberries, fresh or frozen
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/2 tsp. fine sea salt

batter:

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. fine sea salt
6 Tbsp. unsalted butter, at room temperature
3/4 cup granulated sugar
3/4 cup whole milk
1 Tbsp. turbinado sugar

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Butter a 2-quart baking dish.

To make the fruit filling, toss the apricots and raspberries with the sugar and salt in a bowl and set aside to draw out some of the juices while you prepare the batter.

To make the batter, sift together the flour, baking powder, and salt in a bowl. Using a handheld mixer with beaters or a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, cream the butter and granulated sugar together on medium-high speed for 3 to 5 minutes, until light and fluffy. Stir in the flour mixture in three additions alternating with the milk in two additions, beginning and ending with the dry ingredients and scraping down the sides of the bowl occasionally.

Spread the batter evenly in the prepared pan and distribute the fruit over the batter, being sure to scrape the bowl well. Sprinkle the turbinado sugar over the top.

Bake in the bottom third of the oven for about 45 minutes, or until the center of the cake springs back when lightly touched. Cool 20 to 30 minutes before serving.

Storage: This cobbler is best if eaten the day it is made. Any leftovers can be covered with a tea towel to be finished for breakfast. Reheat in a 300 degree F oven until warmed through. Makes 8 to 10 servings.

Simple and seasonal

With apricots from the market and sour cream in the refrigerator to use up, I decide to make coffeecake. If I have plums or peaches, I could use those as well. I need something simple and seasonal.

Spongy and mildly fragrant, the coffeecake does not disappoint. Thankfully. It looks lovely coming out of the oven. I grab a mug for a caffeine kick, and sit down at the table to cut a slice.

Apricot Coffeecake

8 medium apricots
cooking spray
2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking soda
1 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. salt
1/4 cup canola oil
1 cup sugar
2 tsp. vanilla extract
1 large egg
1 large egg white
1 cup sour cream

Rinse and dry the apricots. Cut them in half and discard the pits. Set aside. Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Coat a 9- by 12-inch Pyrex pan with nonstick cooking spray. Set aside.

In a medium bowl, whisk together the all-purpose flour, baking soda, baking powder and salt. Set aside.

In the bowl of an electric mixer, combine the canola oil and sugar. Beat. Add the vanilla extract, egg and egg white. Beat on a medium speed until smooth. Alternate portions of flour and sour cream into the wet mixture. Mix until just combined.

Pour batter into the Pyrex pan and spread evenly. Top it with the apricot halves, cut sides up. Bake 30 to 35 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Makes 15 or 16 servings.