Tag Archives: blueberries



I was away from home last week, working on the other side of the country.  When I returned, a visit to my farmers market was very near the top of my “To Do” list.  Once there, I found the summer produce season at its peak, and amaranth, corn, lemon cucumbers, sweet onions, green garlic, chilis of every variety, baby eggplant, carrots, zucchini, okra, edamame, sugar snap peas, English shell peas, cranberry beans, watermelon, cantaloupe, peaches, cherries, blueberries, and countless varieties of tomatoes, all found their way into my cart.

I still have no idea what I will do with most of it, but I can hardly wait to find out.  I love a surprise!



Only the Biggest Ones

One summer morning, when I was about 10 years old, my mother  — before she left for work  — gave me instructions for the day.

“Keep an eye on your sister, and make her lunch,” she said hurriedly.  ”Oh, and I bought some blueberries last night; they’re in the refrigerator.  Please wash them so they’re ready for dessert tonight.  You can have a few, but don’t eat too many.”

Then off she went to her job, and off I went to my “work” washing the berries.  My sister, four years my junior, was soon on my heels, so I pulled a chair up to the sink and told her to help me.

“Can we eat some?” she asked.

“Mom said not to eat too many,” I replied. 

“Okay, let’s only eat the biggest ones,” came my little sister’s response.

So we ate only the biggest berries, happily discovering that other berries — which only moments earlier had not been big enough to eat — were now the new biggest ones in the bowl.  So we ate those, too.  

That evening, when my mother returned home from work to discover that we’d eaten all the blueberries, I defended myself and my sister by describing exactly how we’d eaten only the biggest ones.  It was an exasperatingly logical and convincing defense when I explained it just so, and my winning argument not only won us a reprieve from punishment, but it reinforced my newly burgeoning dream of becoming a lawyer. 

It was a long, long time, however, before I was again permitted to wash berries unsupervised.



Blueberry Pie

Although there are few places I’d rather be than my kitchen, I’m not what you’d call a happy baker.  I hate all that measuring and weighing and exacting over every little ingredient.  I much prefer to throw whatever I find in the fridge into a cast iron skillet, add a few herbs and spices, and enjoy the unpredictable results.  However, when local blueberry season rolls around, I find myself slaving over blueberry pie three or four times a summer.  On rare occasions, there will be a piece left for a lucky friend or neighbor, but — for the rest of you  I offer this photo.  Look quickly because I’m about to devour the last slice.

Blueberry Pie