Cherry Clafoutis

Putting aside for a moment that ‘clafoutis’ sounds like a venereal disease, clafoutis are super tasty and so easy that I’m actually thinking of not publishing this so people will still think I’m impressive (no one thinks I’m impressive) and they also are an excellent way to use up those cherries you bought because you are incapable of walking past a bag of cherries at the market without buying them but then you get them home and are all, “LOL what am I going to do with these cherries?!”

You’re going to make clafoutis, is what. And you could do it the gross New York Times way or you could do it my way, and I know very well which you’d prefer.

Okay so the only hard thing about making clafoutis is pitting the cherries, which isn’t even really hard so much as it’s a pain in the ass, which are two different things. But I have a solution for you, oh yes I do!

Ladies, and certain gentlemen, are you familiar with the sort of man who hovers around the kitchen while you’re trying to incant and cast spells on produce? Have you ever gotten one who comes up behind you and rests his chin on your shoulder in a “Whatcha doin’” type move while you’re slicing bell peppers? (Mmm-hm. It’s a miracle I’ve not been imprisoned for knife crimes, is all I’ll say.) Well the point is this: Pitting cherries is a good task to give to that particular sort of man, if you are unlucky enough to be saddled with one. It gives him something to do other than annoy you. If you aren’t in possession of one of those, you’ll have to pit the cherries yourself, which is fine because you can put on some music and take off your clothes and pit cherries in the nude while singing along to “Right Here Waiting” by Richard Marx and no one will ever know about it until you slip up and tell the Internet that that’s how you pit cherries—oh and also by using a Leifheit Cherrymat Cherry Stoner, of course.

(And before one of you know-it-alls chimes in: Traditional clafoutis are made with unpitted cherries but the cost of modern orthodonture being what it is I don’t think any of us are going to risk our teeth for a dessert.)

Once you’ve pitted the cherries—two cups or so? That will be just fine—dump them in a baking dish that you’ve sprayed lightly with PAM. Oh sure, if you’re the last person on the planet who butters a baking dish go right ahead and do that instead. [Ed Note: GOD, SERIOUSLY, DO NOT USE PAM!]

Get your hands on a mixing bowl, and whisk together the following things:

3 eggs, 1 cup of sugar, ½ cup of flour that you’ve sifted (which is different from a half cup of sifted flour) and ¼ teaspoon of salt.

Okay great, are these things smooth now? Fantastic, now whisk in these things:

1 cup of milk, 1½ teaspoons vanilla and 2 teaspoons of kirsch OR ¾ teaspoon almond extract.

(Should we take a moment to talk about kirsch? Yes let’s! Kirsch—properly kirschwasser—is cherry brandy with a bit of an almond flavor to it and doesn’t that just sound delightful? Honesty time: It’s sort of a bitch to find an affordable bottle of it so if you want to substitute Grand Marnier or Cointreau that will be A-OK. Or you could use the almond extract! This also might be a good time to mention that if you don’t care for cherries or nudity or Richard Marx you could certainly substitute other fruits into this recipe. You might want to consider adjusting your sugar levels based on the sweetness of whatever fruit you choose—definitely less sugar works, not more—but maybe you don’t want to consider that, which is fine too! It’s your mouth!)

Okay now pour that wet stuff over the cherries. Yeah, really that’s all. I know! Put the whole thing in a 9×9 or 10×7 square or rectangular Le Creuset or other form of baking dish. Do not use what is photographed here, a foil thingey, because, ew.

It goes in a 350-degree oven for 40-50 minutes. When it’s very lightly brown on top it’s done! It will be slightly wobbly in the center, and kind of puffy, but will set up and then deflate and try not to feel upset about that.

You could sprinkle it with some powdered sugar before serving. You know, if you’re not a monster who holds out on the powdered sugar.



Jolie Kerr has run out of clever byline bio ideas.