There’s something incredibly comforting about a Fruit Cobbler. It’s a dessert that embraces versatility with open arms, allowing you to switch between peaches, strawberries, blackberries, cherries, and more. The choice is yours! I have always loved how this dessert adapts to every season, making it a staple in my kitchen. Originating from the British American colonies, this dessert has stood the test of time. And there’s a good reason for that – it’s downright delicious! The sweetness of the fruit, combined with the rich, buttery crust, creates a symphony of flavors that’s hard to resist. What I love about this Fruit Cobbler recipe is its simplicity. With just five ingredients and a few steps, you can create a dessert that’s sure to impress. Plus, it’s a great way to make the most of seasonal fruits. Remember, the key to a great cobbler lies in the quality of your fruit. So, always choose ripe, in-season fruits for the best results. Now, let’s get baking!
Ingredients
- 3/4 stick margarine
- fruit of your choice (I use peaches, strawberries, blackberries, cherries, etc.)
- 1 c. sugar
- 1 c. milk
- 1 c. flour
Baking Instructions
- Melt margarine.
- Put in 2-inch deep dish.
- Add fruit of your choice.
- Mix together sugar, milk and flour.
- Mix well and pour over fruit.
- Do not stir.
- Cook until brown or fruit is done at 350° (approximately 30 minutes).
Calorie: 250
Total cooking time: 45 minutes
Difficulty level: Easy
The Comical Tale of My Fruit Cobbler Extravaganza
It’s a well-known fact that the kitchen and I have a love-hate relationship. I love to cook, and it seems to hate me. But this time, I was determined to make a delicious fruit cobbler. The ingredients? 3/4 stick margarine, fruit of your choice (I used peaches because why not?), 1 c. sugar, 1 c. milk, and 1 c. flour. Simple, right? Let’s dive into my culinary escapade.
The Mysterious Case of the Melting Margarine
The first step might fool you into thinking this will be a walk in the park. Melt the margarine. Well, let me tell you, margarine melts faster than a snowman in a heatwave. One second it’s a stick, the next it’s a puddle. And let’s not even mention the mess it makes when it pops in the microwave, giving the inside a nice, buttery sheen.
The Great Fruit Debate
Next up, the fruit. The recipe says to use the fruit of your choice. My choice? Peaches. Why? Because they were on sale. Also, they’re delightfully fuzzy, and who doesn’t love a fruit with personality? But let me tell you, extracting the pit from a peach is like trying to separate a toddler from their favorite toy.
The Sugar, Milk, and Flour Fiasco
Then came the sugar, milk, and flour mixing saga. A seemingly simple task turned into a powder storm that looked like a scene from a slapstick comedy. And who knew that flour could find its way into the most unexpected places? You know the rule about not crying over spilled milk? I think it should extend to sugar and flour too.
The Artful Pour
The next step is to pour the mixture over the fruit. The key word here is ‘pour,’ not ‘dump.’ Trust me, there’s a difference. A ‘dump’ results in a floury tidal wave that engulfs the fruit and sends you into damage control mode. A ‘pour’ is much more graceful, like a ballet of baking.
The Waiting Game
Do not stir. I repeat, do not stir. The dough knows what it’s doing; it doesn’t need your help. Now comes the hardest part: waiting. Watching the cobbler bake is like watching a slow-motion video of a sunrise. It’s beautiful, but excruciatingly slow.
The Moment of Truth
Finally, after the longest 30 minutes of my life, the cobbler was done. Or at least, it looked done. The top was brown, the fruit was… there. And oh boy, it smelled like a peachy paradise. I pulled it out of the oven with shaky hands, a mix of excitement and fear. But one bite and I realized, it was worth every comical mishap.
So there you have it. The journey of my fruit cobbler extravaganza. It was messy, unpredictable, and involved more flour than I ever thought possible. But you know what? It was also a whole lot of fun. And the best part? Eating the fruits (pun intended) of my labor.
