#FOODFFICTION Fruit Clafouti and The Castle Blues Quake

Pepper’s parents are chefs and she loves to cook with them. Here’s one of their favorite desserts, a custard-like crustless pie—easy to make and great with summer berries.

Fruit Clafouti

Ingredients:

1 tablespoon unsalted butter

12 ounces fresh fruit, such as cherries, berries, or stone fruit

1 cup whole milk

1/2 cup granulated sugar

3 large eggs

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

1/2 cup all-purpose flour

1 teaspoon lemon zest

1 teaspoon fine salt

Powdered sugar, for serving (optional)

Instructions:

1. Arrange a rack in the middle of the oven and heat to 400°F. Coat a 10-inch cast iron or other oven-proof skillet with the butter and set aside.

2. Remove stems and pits from the fruit. Cherries and all berries can remain whole, except halve strawberries. Thinly slice stone fruit. Set aside.

3. Combine the milk, sugar, eggs, and vanilla in a food processor fitted with the blade attachment and process until the batter is smooth, about 20 seconds.

4. Add the flour, zest, and salt and pulse until just incorporated, 5 to 7 pulses.

5. Pour the batter into the prepared pan. Top evenly with the fruit.

6. Bake until set, puffed, and light golden brown around the edges, about 50 minutes.

7. Place the skillet on a wire rack and let cool for 15 minutes (the clafouti will deflate). Dust with powdered sugar if using, cut into wedges or scoop to serve.

Recipe courtesy of https://www.thekitchn.com/

The Castle Blues Quake

12-year-old Pepper moves from New York City to Santa Cruz, CA into a spooky Victorian house and discovers a boy, Corey, hiding in the backyard shed. Without realizing he’s a ghost, she agrees to help him find his grandfather. Earthquakes, haunted house rides, crystal ball readings, and time travel propel Pepper toward the shocking end of her search as she learns about the give and take, the heartache and joy, of true friendship.

EXCERPT:

A circle of light slid across the wall. I froze, thinking it might be my dad with a flashlight. I dropped the harmonica, ready to hide. Then the light disappeared, and a cry from another harmonica pierced my ears. Coming from the neighbor, I figured. The sound grew louder, higher, and then twisted into a crescendo, into a wail full of such sorrow it pulled at my insides. The music sang about loneliness, about leaving friends behind, about losing those friends forever. The sound rolled back to a soft whine, and then stopped. Wiping tears from my eyes, I turned toward the door. Corey stood there. A net of misty fog covered his black hair.

I swiped my cheeks. “Where were you?”

Corey shrugged. So what else was new. He squatted on the can next to me and peered at my face, into my eyes. “You been crying?”

My nose was stuffy with leftover tears, and I forced myself not to sniffle. “No, I—” And then, maybe because the neighbor’s song had reminded me of how much I missed Chrissie and how much I wanted a friend, I said, “I guess so. I was thinking about my best friend in New York. It’s just, sometimes I wonder if I’ll ever see her again.”

“I know what you mean.”

Of course. His parents and missing grandfather. I felt so stupid. “I’m sorry. You’ve had it a lot worse than I have.”

“If you only knew.” He started to laugh, but it sounded more like a splinter was stuck in his throat.

“You’re right. Geez, what have I got to complain about? I know there’s no way I can really understand what you’ve gone through, what you are going through. But, I promise, I’ll help you the best I can.”

“Thanks.” The corners of his mouth went up, but the smile never made it to his eyes.

I wished I could really make him laugh. Wouldn’t it be cool, I thought, if everything was normal, if Corey didn’t have to hide, if we could go inside and hang out? I’d make some popcorn, and we’d find something to watch on TV…

The popcorn reminded me of the sandwiches. “I have a surprise for you. I brought you something to eat.” I unwrapped the sandwiches. With a flourish, I placed the paper towel on his lap like a waiter in a fancy restaurant, and presented him with his sandwich. “Sir, for your dining pleasure this evening, we have for you Pepper Connelly’s super select primo deluxe sandwich of all sandwiches—ta da—Marshmallow Cream and Bananas enhanced with a delightful layer of peanut butter.”

And this time he did laugh. His face softened around its hard edges, and a light came into his eyes, turning them from hard black ice to warm sweet cocoa. It made me feel so happy—like my insides were floating—to hear him laugh.