Apricot and Blueberry Cobbler Recipe — Sweet Summer Dessert

I’d been living in California for a few months, enjoying the energetic dotcom atmosphere at my workplace, when management announced we were having a company barbecue.

To me, this was quintessential Silicon Valley at the turn of the century: playful perks meant to make employees happy — water guns, a foosball table, free pizza on Fridays — all designed to encourage people to stick around and bring their best ideas to work (until the market shifted, but that’s another story).

A cobbler, someone explained, is someone who mends shoes. This didn’t make much sense to me, so I gently inquired: okay, but, um, why? My American-born coworkers conferred for a while, spoon in mid-air, brow furrowed, until they had to admit no one had a reasonable explanation.

On barbecue day, everyone pitched in: some assembled burger stations, others grilled patties (and veggie alternatives — this was California), while a few ladled potato or pasta salad onto plates and coaxed out anyone hiding in their cubicle. Then we settled on the sunny deck behind our offices to eat.

Several people had volunteered to bring dessert. Among them, Barbara from client operations brought a peach cobbler.

As people oohed and aahed over the dish, I asked, “What’s a cobbler?” Someone explained that a cobbler is literally a person who mends shoes (un cordonnier in French). It struck me as odd, so I pressed: “But why?” My American-born coworkers paused, spoons suspended, and after some speculation admitted they didn’t know the origin either.

No matter — the proof of the pudding is what counts, and Barbara’s cobbler was delicious.

The cobbler is one of those classic all-American desserts with playful names — like brown betty, buckle, grunt, slump, and pandowdy — consisting of seasonal fruit topped with some kind of dough and baked until bubbling and golden.

For a cobbler, the topping is typically a sugar-dusted biscuit dough. It can be scattered in rough hand-torn pieces, which I prefer, or arranged in neat rounds if you like a tidier presentation (often achieved using store-bought biscuit dough).

Compared to a crumble or crisp, a cobbler offers a wider range of textures: the dough browns and crisps on top, remains tender and scone-like inside, and melds with the juices of the fruit beneath.

Because Barbara’s peach cobbler was my introduction to the dessert, I forever associate cobblers with peaches. In truth, however, any ripe fruit will work. Recently I baked an apricot and blueberry cobbler for friends, and it was equally satisfying.

For the dough I often include almond flour to give a smoother mouthfeel, and when the cobbler features stone fruit I like to add a hint of orange blossom water. Many serve cobbler with vanilla ice cream; as a French cook, I prefer it with crème fraîche, which, to my taste, better highlights the fruit’s natural sweetness.

If the name still puzzles you, one theory links it to the topping’s resemblance to cobblestones, or to “cobbles,” which can mean rounded stones or lumps. But the exact origin is uncertain — food historians and librarians have traced references and quotes, yet no definitive answer emerges.

Have you tried this? Share your photos on Instagram and tag them with #cnzrecipes — I’ll repost my favorites.

This post was first published on August 17, 2010.