There is a moment in early summer when being in France is the best place to be. The strawberries, the asparagus, the green beans. The cherries. And when the cherries arrive, it is time for clafoutis aux cerises.
Clafoutis, if you have not yet sampled one, is a dessert that is not quite cake and not quite pudding. A baked custard seems the best explanation. Traditionally, it is made only with cherries, whole and with their stones intact. It is also, and this matters, easy on the cook, which leaves you free to appreciate everything else about it: the seasonality, the regionality, the fact that it is, in the most unshowy way possible, quite perfect.
So what is this cherry dessert thing? It has its origins in the Limousin region, and the name comes from the Occitan clafir, meaning ‘to fill’. Cherries grow all over France, but the tiny black cherries from the Limousin are where this started. Because most locals had this tree on their land, there was a need to make something from the glut, and this is how clafoutis came about, which also situates it firmly in home cooking rather than fancy pâtisserie. Sadly, this particular variety has not been produced commercially for many years, though you may still find trees in speciality nurseries.
Look for the fresh green stalk
When buying cherries, look for firm, glossy fruit with the stalks still attached; a fresh green stalk is a reliable sign that the cherries were picked recently rather than stored.
The two main families are easy to tell apart by size. Bigarreaux are the large, firm eating cherries you see piled high at market stalls from late May: Burlat, dark red and juicy, is usually the first to arrive. Then there is the Bigarreau Napoléon, bicoloured yellow and pink, which follows in mid-June, and is the variety behind the famous cerises confites of Apt. Cœur de Pigeon cherries, as the name suggests, are slightly heart-shaped and deep crimson; beautiful to look at, and best eaten out of the hand.
Look for cherries with their stalks attachedbarmalini
The other cherry variety is Griotte, which is a good choice for a clafoutis because it is a small, dark, slightly acidic cherry that holds its character in the heat of the oven. The Griotte de Montmorency is the most widely available and reliably good. More regional is the Griotte d’Itxassou which is darker and more intense. It is worth seeking out, if you are in or near the Basque Country. That said, use whatever fresh cherries are at the market in your clafoutis. The season is brief enough without being too particular.
Almost every French household has its own version of clafoutis and the differences centre mainly on two things: stones in or out, and milk or cream. There may also be some cornflour alongside or instead of flour and a splash of something boozy, mainly kirsch. A vanilla pod is better than extract, if you have one, but this is not necessary. I have a friend who makes hers with the stalks intact so it is easier to pick out the cherries. Each cook brings their own flourish and perhaps that is the real tradition of the clafoutis.
The one thing that is non-negotiable is the fruit. A clafoutis has cherries. Anything else: pears, plums, apricots or apples and it becomes a flaugnarde. Same batter (almost), different name, different season. The flaugnarde is for autumn and winter, when the market cherry stalls are long gone. It is perfectly good. But it is not this.
The beauty and the essence of a clafoutis is its plainness. It is a simple recipe, it is old, and it belongs to nobody in particular. No chef invented it, no restaurant made it famous, no television programme reinvented it with powdered lavender and smoked salt.
It started in Limousin farmhouses, made by people who had a cherry tree, a few eggs, some milk and no need to overthink things.
The gastronome Curnonsky, elected Prince of Gastronomes by French chefs in 1927, was unambiguous on the matter: a real clafoutis contained the small black cherries of the Limousin, and to make it properly, you needed Limousin blood in your veins. A recipe for extinction. Make it wherever you are, while cherries are at the markets, all dark and juicy and wonderful. The season is short, the recipe is not complicated, and the result is entirely worth it.
Recipe: Clafoutis aux cerises
This is best when served still warm from the oven. Stones stay in the cherries, so warn diners. Serves 6.
Preheat the oven to 200°C. Generously butter a ceramic baking dish. Arrange 500-600g cherries in an even layer in the dish.
In a bowl, combine 200ml whole milk, 200ml cream, three eggs, two tsp vanilla, 120g sugar and a pinch of salt. Stir in 50g flour and mix just to combine; do not mix so much it gets frothy.
Pour over the cream mixture, sprinkle with demerara sugar and bake until puffed and golden, 35-45 minutes. Serve warm, lightly dusted with icing sugar.
