It’s July, and cherries have arrived. The big, plump ones we all eat too many of – if that’s possible – and a wee bowl for spitting pits (although it’s infinitely more satisfying to spit them into the grass) has been on my counter all week. My fingers are perpetually red. Most people buy cherries (these come from BC) to eat them by the bag; rarely to bake with. I seek out those who own cherry pitters and make their own pies and try to become their best friend, but those people are few and far between. If you, like me, aspire to be a cherry pie baker but never quite get around to it, a clafoutis might make a good first step. (Or last step – who needs a pie when you have clafoutis?