Vegan Black Raspberry Cobbler with Biscuit Thick Crust (Heirloom Amish Recipe. . . and your mother was right: Always. Wear. Sunscreen!)

This week: bake, eat, bake some more, run, garden, pet the dogs and bake again--oh and attend a medical procedure for DH. This cobbler is a result of what happens with a black raspberry patch that's gone amok and a whole lot of stress on the side. The cobbler is an old recipe from one of my mother's Amish cookbooks. Growing up in Indiana, many of our summer trips involved a visit to Amish country. Mom was into the Amish. Though I don't think she'd trade her modern conveniences like electricity (powering her sunlamps!) for the whole "Amish" way. Ever. 

A huge black raspberry crop showed up in our yard this summer. (I have the remnants from the thorns all over my upper arm to prove it--a small price to pay for enjoying these delicious fruits.) We had no trouble devouring them. On my last trip down the hill, I had harvested about four cups of berries. I knew immediately they'd be made into a cobbler (one of DH's favorites). Problem was, I didn't know which recipe I'd use. About ten years ago, I had used this same Amish recipe, but with the traditional butter/fat/and a TON of sugar--the recipe called for. Not this time. I whole-grained the crust up and then cut back on the sugar and of course, used vegan butter. The result was pure heaven. You should check to be sure you have some vegan ice cream on hand. Pretty much mandatory for finishing this dish.

Vegan Apple Pandowdy (The Vintage Un-Pie)

I had little time, lots of apples (still) and a craving for something in pastry crust. Isn't this how most amazing desserts happen? Couple things struck me about the name "pandowdy" when I first stumbled across it. First thing was where in the heck did this name come from? Well actually I didn't spend much time thinking about this--I craved dessert, not a dissertation. But in the off chance you're curious about the origin of the old pandowdy, I "discuss" more fully below. But not in length, 'kay? Second thing was a southern declaration I'd heard first after moving to Missouri when I was in high school: Boy Howdy! Strange little thing to remember. It seems to fit nicely with "pandowdy". 

Rustic Peach Apple Galette (Roll It. Pile It. Fold It. Bake It.)

The hands-on time for this dessert is under fifteen minutes. The result is unabashedly sublime. To gild the lily, a scoop of vanilla bean coconut ice cream served in a bowl with a slab of the galette, and all will be right with the world. I've noticed the supermarket slowly receiving "not-quite-seasonal-for-Missouri" produce. Last week there were the bing cherries and Georgia peaches. The cherries really tempted me. I cannot resist them once the full line of cherries arrive. But even I have standards. It's far too early for a decent cherry. But the peaches. . . they were in perfect condition. They had that peachy aroma. Plus they were displayed in individually slotted spaces in cardboard boxes. As if the shipping box was specifically designed just for the semi-long trip they had getting to Missouri from Georgia. I came home with two pounds. My impulse control was low, what can I say.