No, not the sequel to Three Idiots!

These fruity fools are part of my ongoing celebration of the berry harvest of summer. There’s a wealth  of recipes out there to transform this bounty into all kinds of cakes, pies, tarts, ice creams, sorbets, jams and jellies. I love it all, but, at the end of the day, there are few things I find more satisfying than a fruit fool.

All it takes to make a fool is crushed or puréed fruit, whipped cream, a little sugar to taste, all folded together gently. That’s it, a quick-fix. And for very little effort, you’re rewarded with a silky dollop of fruity luxury.

This “fool”, said Jane Grigson in her aptly titled book “Good Things”, “comes from the French verb fouler, to crush; it is not a description of someone prepared to pay 24p for half a pint of cream.” I wonder how much that translates to in today’s sterling, 40 years from the time the book was written. I also wonder just how much I’d be willing to pay for good cream.

Fruit, cream, and I go back a long way. As someone who was allowed to skip the dreaded daily dose of milk in boarding school on account of being mildly lactose intolerant, I never seem to have had any trouble with downing ice cream, cheese, yogurt, the odd milkshake and, of course, cream. Back then, the quick-fix dessert in many homes happened to be fruit and cream. There were fresh fruit salads with cream, bananas and cream, mangoes and cream, tinned peaches and cream, tinned “fruit cocktail” and cream, tinned pineapple with cream. Oh, and the cream was sometimes tinned too!

So many years later, with some of the finest fresh produce in the world at my doorstep, it’s definitely not tinned fruit and cream that I’m thinking of. Not when there’s excellent fresh cream available and a dazzling array of locally grown fruit throughout the summer. There are raspberries, strawberries, blueberries and blackberries, red and green gooseberries, currants of several hues, stone fruit like apricots, peaches, plums, cherries and nectarines. As good as they are out of hand, they’re also great for fools.

Some fruit, like gooseberries and plums are the better for being cooked very gently (in butter – if you’re following Jane Grigson’s directions for a classic English gooseberry fool), before being incorporated into the cream. Before you begin to assemble your fool, chill everything thoroughly, including the bowl in which you whisk the cream because there’s no fool like a cold fool.

With berry fools, macerating the crushed fruit with a small amount of sugar or a little jam of the same fruit, really brings out the flavour. You can dress it up with little touches that complement the fruit – a dash of lemon or orange zest or juice, a liquer, or flower waters. Layer the fruit and cream for a little variation. I prefer not to sweeten the cream, adding any sugar to the fruit. A few delicate biscuits are a good accompaniment.

Fool around, but don’t lose sight of the fact that simplicity is the essence of the perfect fool. Use the best fruit and the best cream you can lay your hands on. And don’t tell anyone what you paid for them.

These are fools you’ll suffer gladly.

I believe good things come in threes, so I’m serving these with Trader Joe’s Triple Ginger Snaps, a wonderfully spicy foil to the fruit and cream. Say, three per fool?