Blackberry. Blackblerry, as Claire calls it. One of my favorite things. Recently a flat of these divine brambles crossed my path. I can't get my nose close enough. I love the perfumey goodness that can only be experienced with mass amounts of blackberries. I so wish that that was how jam tasted. I have an idea for that but I will have to wait until next season. Because, of course I made jam. I brought them out to my moms and we made some low-sugar and some no sugar. It was like old times, canning with my momma.
There were so many berries left. What to do with them?? Well, as passed done for generations, just like jam, once must make pie. I am not going to pretend to have the all knowing pie crust recipe, that is reserved for my mom. In fact pie making in general should be left to my mom. But, I must learn. So I bought a pie crust, sacrileges to some I know. I followed a recipe and some knowledge passed down from momma. Here it is:
Isn't it beautiful? I was so proud of myself. My first real pie. I added some spices, not too much of course. I was certain it was going to be divine. Then reality hit. While it may look like perfection, it was far from it. It didn't gel at all. I was so sad. It was a lovely store bought crust with reddish berrilicious soup inside. The guys were such troopers. They said it tasted good. It did. But I wanted it to be a success. So, now I am trying to find my next pie. I think it'll be in the berry category. How about huckleberry?
2 comments:
It tasted great, that's all that really matters!
There appears to be a troubled face image in the crust. Would that be a bit of B's magic or a little blackberry soul?
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