![]() ![]() In another bowl, mix flour, remaining sugar, milk, olive oil, baking powder and salt. ![]() Put the slices in a bowl and add 1/4 cup of the sugar, then let the peaches macerate for at least an hour, longer if you can. Cut the halves in half again, then slice about 1/4 inch thick. Cut peaches in half around their equators (as opposed to down the butt crack-like indentation), twist, and remove the pits. The only thing you’ll notice about the skins is that they add a slight bitterness that offsets the sugar. I don’t peel the peaches (if it’s good enough for baking legend Dorie Greenspan, it’s good enough for me). ![]() While almost any fruit or berry works, the window for local peaches closes quickly, so when they’re ripe that’s all I ever use. But “Cuppa Cuppa Three-Quarters Cuppa Halfa Cuppa” just isn’t as catchy. If you’ve got ripe fruit, a cup of sugar is too much. My version deviates from the eponym a bit, but not much. Some wags add “sticka” to the name since that’s how much butter you use, but I use olive oil instead. The triad of cuppas refer to flour, milk, and sugar. You don’t need to know the difference between crisps, crumbles, pandowdies, sonkers, slumps, and buckles, because the best and easiest old-school fruit dessert is a cobbler aptly named Cuppa Cuppa Cuppa. We’re happy to have him back creating some special dishes just for WW readers. Jim’s always loved to eat, and he encourages his customers to cook by sending them recipes every week through his newsletter. Jim Dixon wrote about food for WW for more than 20 years, but these days most of his time is spent at his olive oil-focused specialty food business Wellspent Market. ![]()
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