Plum and Wild Blueberry Crisp

All the little acts create something extraordinary.

“The world will not be destroyed by those who do evil, but by those who watch them without doing anything.”—Albert Einstein

I stand in my little kitchen in my little French town, pitting plums for jam, comfortably isolated—as much as I want to be on any given day—from everything that’s happening in the world. How easy it can be to avoid the news, to stay off social media for a few hours or a few days, and just concentrate on my day-to-day activities. I make jam for my hotel, I research and write about food, I take walks and meet friends for a drink or ice cream, and life goes on.

When I do turn on the news, read the headlines, scroll through social media, I want to scream. I add my two cents on every platform I’m on (some of which is hair-on-fire yelling); I do try keep my wits about me, to inform people as much and as clearly as I can, citing House and Senate votes, listing the regulations, protections, benefits the right is slashing or gutting, and offering a view from France and from French politicians and pundits. I know I don’t make a dent in the machinery of dismantling democracy nor sway those politicians so determined to undo decades of progress and those who cheer them on from the social media sidelines, but I can at least add my voice to the rising din of resistance. Staying silent feels worse than shouting into the void; at least this way I feel I’m doing what little I can to push back.

I am aware that I am privileged in having the choice of tuning in or tuning out the political disaster rolling over us like a tsunami. Just go about my business. Living in a small town insulates me even from the rumblings here in France—the strikes, the protests, the political upheaval, the threat of the far right—if I choose to look away.

But something struck me this week as I watched an Instagram reel of a young soldier urging his fellow service members to resist illegal orders to march into American cities. I am in profound awe of those on the front lines fighting—very publicly—to save, reclaim, and rebuild our democracy—the soldiers, police, and National Guard willing to defy unlawful commands from an illegitimate commander in chief, risking their careers and, potentially, their lives. I am in awe of the pundits, journalists, and historians committed to truth, who use their platforms and visibility every single day to inform, to warn, to remind us what is at stake and the elected officials who refuse to bow to corruption, who stand boldly against the dictates of a would-be dictator, even when doing so puts their careers on the line or marks them for retribution. The activists who organize, rally, and refuse to back down. And the ordinary citizens who put their own bodies on the line, blocking Immigration and Customs Enforcement agents, standing between innocent families and detention, refusing to look away or stay silent.

I can’t do any of that, living so far away, my public platform too small. But I can shout into the void, adding my voice to the growing chorus, all of us combining into a force greater than its parts. I can refuse to remain silent. I can write. I can remind. I can inform. Small, deliberate acts—modest, yes, but no less essential.

Miep Gies, one of the Dutch citizens who hid Anne Frank, her family, and four other Dutch Jews from the Nazis, once talked about being a small light in a dark room. “Those little things (small acts of courage, compassion, resistance) can add up to be extraordinary.”

I look around at my fellow Americans who live in ignorant bliss by choice, those who don’t follow politics or watch the news at all, those who stay silent about democracy toppling because they simply don’t know—or don’t want to know. That’s not me. I left the United States decades ago because of politics, and, even here, across an ocean and all these years later, I still can’t turn away. Small. Deliberate. Acts.

I stand in my kitchen pitting plums, peeling peaches, chopping rhubarb; I sit at my laptop and research the history of frivolous—yet oddly historically important—things such as whipped cream, pumpkin pie, chicken Marengo, and éclairs; I develop and share recipes; I run a hotel. Some days, I have to catch my breath and step away from the world, burying myself in these small daily tasks and pleasures. But as I prepare fruit and transform it all into jewel-colored jams, the hotel fills with the heady, fruity scent of summer and I lose myself entirely in the work. I concentrate on what I am doing, and every movement, every completed chore, grounds me. And though my voice might be small, my platform modest, offering pleasure through a jar of jam, a shared recipe, or a well-told story feels like doing what I can—a quiet, tangible way to make a difference in the bit of the world I can reach.

Until, that is, I jump back into the political fray on social media and resume my usual angry, hair-on-fire posts. Honestly, I just can’t help myself. All together, we do “add up to be extraordinary.”

“Fruit is the natural confection of the earth; how exquisite are plums when they are perfectly ripe!”—Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin, Physiologie du Goût, 1825

Plum and Wild Blueberry Fruit Crisp

Summer-ripe plums are too marvelous to keep only for jam, so I made a 2-plum crisp, adding cherries and frozen wild blueberries for both body and depth of flavor; I find a mix of fruits better than a single fruit whether making a crisp, crumble, cobbler, or compote. I added balsamic vinegar to the fruit and topped the crisp with slivered almonds for crunch and a bit of nuttiness. It was simply out of this world.

I used a variety of ripe, local Reine-Claude—greengage—plums, golden and purple: Reine-Claude d’Oullins, Reine Claude de Moissac, and Reine-Claude violette; the golden plums were incredibly sweet while the purple were sweet with a slightly tart acidity, making for a beautiful balance of flavor and intensity. If you cannot get these varieties, choose 2 others with these complementary flavor profiles. Once pitted, I sliced each plum in half and then each half into 2 or 3 wedges.

Gather ingredients:

5 cups of pitted, sliced fruit total, about 4 cups plums if adding the cherries (see note above)

½ pound (250 grams) cherries, pitted and halved, optional but wonderful

1 cup frozen wild blueberries, thawed and drained (reserve the juice)

¼ cup (50 grams) sugar

½ tablespoon cornstarch

1 tablespoon good-quality balsamic vinegar

For the crisp topping:

¾ cup (100 grams) flour

½ cup (110 grams) packed or granulated light brown sugar

½ cup (110 grams) packed dark brown sugar

½ to 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon

½ teaspoon ground nutmeg

¼ teaspoon salt

7 tablespoons (105 grams) chilled or cool unsalted butter

¼ to ½ cup slivered almonds

Preheat the oven to 350°F (180°C). Have ready an oven safe baking dish - mine is 12 x 8 x 2 in (30 x 20 x 5 - cm).

Prepare the fruit:

Place all the prepared fruit in a mixing bowl; add the sugar and toss to coat the fruit evenly. Place the cornstarch in a small bowl or cup and add the balsamic vinegar; stir until the cornstarch is dissolved then pour this all over the fruit and toss to mix. Pour the fruit into the baking dish.

Prepare the crisp topping:

Stir together the flour, two sugars, cinnamon, and salt in a medium-sized bowl, breaking up any lumps. Cube the butter and toss the cubes in the dry ingredients to coat and separate. Then, using only your fingertips and working very quickly, rub the dry ingredients and the butter together until the mixture resembles damp sand and there are no more pieces of butter visible. Toss in the almonds until evenly distributed (or, save the slivered almonds to sprinkle evenly across the surface once the crisp topping has been distributed over the fruit). Sprinkle this mixture thickly and evenly over the fruit in the baking dish all the way out to the edges.

Cover with a sheet of aluminum foil and bake for ½ hour, then uncover and bake for an additional ½ hour. The top should be crisp – thus a “crisp” – and the fruit syrup should be bubbling all around the edges.

Eat warm or at room temperature with ice cream or lightly sweetened whipped cream.

Jamie Schler is an American food and culture writer—primarily immersed in French culinary history—living in France where she owns a hotel and writes the Substack Life’s a Feast.

---