After dinner parties, if half your friends flake off, all “Oh God no, I’m so full, no dessert for me please,” you’re doing it wrong. And by doing it wrong I mean you need to slide a bowl of boozy fruit crisp in front of them with a fork and a look that says “Trust me – shut the fuck up and eat.”
Just like Grandma used to.
I prefer to prep and make this when my kid is out doing charity work or something else that make me sounds like a better parent. She’s three. She SHOULD already be thinking of others and the plight of the North American beaver seal. There’s browning of butter, tasting of bourbon and a lot of fruit cutting so it’s best to bliss out uninterrupted with some terrible early 90’s rap, an empty kitchen, and a big glass. You know, for taste testing. I like to use Bulleit Bourbon Whisky. It’s delicious.
I make the crap out of this in the Fall when apples are prevalent and cheap, but you can make it any time and really sub in other fruits like peaches, cherries, blueberries or a combo of all of them. I’ve made this a million different ways and the result is consistently amazing. I also make mine gluten-free because I have celiac disease which is a drastic way of saying I’m genetically shitty and will never know what a real cronut tastes like. Bow your head in silence for me and then go make this crisp.
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