I need answers.
Do you fall asleep with the TV on? Are you married, single, or living with a partner? I’m conducting a little informal research for a study I’m starting: How High Is The Divorce Rate Between Couples Who Fall Asleep With the Television On. If you’d like to contribute, keep reading.
Over the past month, Mr. How Sweet has somehow jumped several decades in maturity. He’s always been a bit older-souled, but lately he insists on sleeping in darkness and silence. Apparently my nightly habit of zoning out to reality TV until late is no longer acceptable. When else am I supposed to witness celebrity antics or marvel at extravagant food competitions?
He’s also become a one-channel man: news. Well, except for the royalty marathon he watched this weekend — he apparently rewatched the Royal Wedding for far longer than seems reasonable. He’s taken up lawn care with alarming enthusiasm, mowing multiple times a week, perhaps to get out of the house and away from my late-night TV. Next thing I know he’ll be reading the daily paper and trimming nose hairs in front of the bathroom mirror.
My defenses have included claiming writerly angst — yes, I use the term “writer” loosely — and confessing to being afraid of the dark. I get spooked by shadows and fall into tiny melancholies after finishing a great book. Unfortunately, none of that moved him; he values his uninterrupted sleep more than my evening wind-down ritual. Fair? No.
Since I can’t sleep with the TV off and my imagination runs wild in the dark, I’ve developed a new pastime: counting food. It dawned on me recently how utterly, ridiculously, passionately in love I am with food — its aromas, textures, tastes, and appearance. If this is no surprise to longtime readers, it was still a revelation to me: a small epiphany that became the nightly ritual.
I lie in bed and pick an ingredient, then imagine every possible preparation. Blueberries: pancakes, muffins, cookies, maybe even pasta, salad (no thank you), scones, ice cream, sandwiches, crisp — definitely crisp. I wonder what they’d be like with steak, pork, rice, or quinoa. Suddenly I’m hungry and dreaming of blueberry pies and the treadmill I’ll never quite use enough.
One of those late-night ingredient brainstorms produced this blueberry crisp. I’m also smitten with blueberry balsamic vinegar and highly recommend trying it if you can find some — it adds a surprising brightness to fruit desserts. Regular balsamic works too, but the blueberry variety brings an extra layer of flavor.
Balsamic Blueberry Crisp
Serves 2–4
Ingredients:
- 2 cups blueberries
- 3 tablespoons sugar
- 1/2 tablespoon flour (for fruit)
- 1/8 teaspoon salt
- 2/3 cup oats
- 2/3 cup loosely packed brown sugar
- 1/4 cup flour (for crumble)
- 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
- 1/2 stick softened butter
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1/2 cup + 1 tablespoon balsamic vinegar
- 1–2 tablespoons coarse sugar for crunch
- Vanilla ice cream, for serving
Directions:
Preheat the oven to 375°F (190°C). In a bowl, toss the blueberries with sugar, 1/2 tablespoon flour, and salt. Spray a baking dish with nonstick spray and add the blueberries — a smaller dish will yield a thicker fruit layer, while an 8-inch dish will work fine. Toss the berries with 1 tablespoon of balsamic vinegar.
In another bowl, combine the oats, brown sugar, 1/4 cup flour, and cinnamon. Add the softened butter and vanilla, then mix with a fork and your hands until clumps form. Spread the crumble evenly over the blueberries and sprinkle coarse sugar on top. Bake for 25–30 minutes, until the top is golden and the fruit is bubbling.
While the crisp bakes, put the remaining balsamic vinegar in a small saucepan and simmer over low heat until reduced by half, about 5–6 minutes. Let it cool and thicken. Serve the warm crisp with vanilla ice cream and a drizzle of the balsamic reduction.
One last tip: use a larger plate or a bowl for your crisp — you’ll want something to catch the melting ice cream and sticky blueberry juices. And be prepared: blueberry stains are stubborn, so you might have a little laundry to tackle afterward.