black + berry = delicious

I love blackberries. I love them a lot. I'd characterize it as more of a passionate, sparkling affair.

Vine-ripened, they are just about the most delicious thing I've ever tasted. They are summer, freedom, fun, giggling, adventure, end-of-a-hot-day sighs. Perfection.

Every summer (assuming I'm in the Northwest), I head out with my pails (typically a random assortment of plastic tubs). I dress in hardy clothing (if I don't, there will be blood). I wear tough shoes (again, with the blood). And then I pick. I pick a lot. Enough for pies and crisp, ice cream and breakfast (which is often crisp). I freeze it for later, and savor every bite. There is something about this amazing, weed-like vine (it grows like crazy out here!) offering nature's bounty that delights me to no end. If I don't make at least one blackberry crisp, I feel it as a loss.

Blackberry picking is the perfect combination of danger, tantalizing moments, sweetness, and effort. Danger because the thorny vines grab and poke and tear your skin (ask a friend who tried to wear shorts and sandals out picking with us last year). Tantalizing moments because the best, biggest, ripest berries are always just out of arms' reach. Sweetness, because, well, they're ripe berries. And effort for the hours of reaching, and narrowly escaping sharp thorns, for the hot sun, the little spiders, and the standing on tip toes or reaching from ladders. All of this is totally worth it.

This Labor Day weekend we (I had help) picked nearly 4 gallons of blackberries. We picked at a place I've been going since childhood, where the berries get so big that just two of them can fill your hand. I have to remind myself to eat them as I'm picking, because since the age of about 9 it occurred to me that if I didn't eat so many as I was picking, I'd have loads more to cook with and munch on later...

We made a cobbler. Then we made a crisp. We made vanilla ice cream to go with the crisp. We ate the crisp after dinner, and again for breakfast. It's delicious with yogurt. It's probably delicious with bacon and sandwiches.

My crisp recipe is one of the best. It has come from years of practice, having to make it up when I didn't have the recipe with me, adding more of this because we were out of that. It's best just out of the oven, when the crisp is still crispy and the berries still hot. It is a delectable combination of brown sugar, butter, old fashion oats, flour, and cinnamon. Sometimes I add nutmeg. With apple crisp I add a little bit of powdered ginger. With blackberries, I add almost no sugar to the berries themselves because the sweet topping and the sweet-tart flavor of the berries is the perfect combination.

After our picking extravaganza, I lugged a giant plastic bag of berries home with me and it is sitting in our fridge, taunting me with its potential. I put blackberries in my breakfast this morning. Tonight I might make jam.

photo credits:

Blackberry Crisp

Tiny crisp

Fresh Blackberries

here we go again

As the leaves start their autumnal procession (suddenly, shockingly beginning to change colors just in time to greet September) I am motivated by the urge to grasp every last moment of summer. Grilling, dips in the lake, sailing, walking under umbrellas of greenery, making fresh summer-things salads... These will all too soon seem a distant, shaded memory replaced with candlelight and rain, puddles, and piles of crispy leaves.

Have we come this far? Will I survive until next summer without bare feet or a sun-kissed nose? I'm not ready, I tell you.

jarry eyed

There's nothing quite like using an every day item as a special decoration. I like to put rocks in jars, and candles: what a lovely idea!

Candle light is de-light-full. Even in the middle of summer (when we get daylight in the Northwest until after ten) I like to light candles and listen to Thievery Corporation or Norah Jones. I'm drawn to restaurants and cafes that have candles on their tables.

"I don't mind much what food you're serving, but I see you have candles.... "

And so, I settle into my afternoon. Ready for the weekend and a whole lotta stuff to do. Painting, cleaning, prepping, and hopefully at least a little time romping with the Pup.

I'd like to come home to flowers in jars and candles everywhere, but it's almost as good when I do it myself.

Almost.

toast

It's crunchy and delicious, I like to use butter and jam. My favorite toast is an English muffin with berry preserves and salted butter. It's part of my Saturday morning breakfast, and includes leaving a little corner free of sweet spread so I can dip it in my poached eggs. I always ask for Poached Medium, but it's always Poached Rare. I don't mind too much. It reminds me of being a kid, feeling goofy as I try and try to scoop it up with my fork, forever failing but always entertaining myself. That's kind of the best part.

All that is beside the point, though, because really I just wanted to tell you a little bit about this soiree I'm planning. The details have been forming over the last six months, and I'm only a week away from implementation! There are trays to fill and things to chop, colorful papery things to find, and a bride to toast.

I am picturing this beautiful woman in a lovely summer dress, her honey hair shining in the sunlight, surrounded by warm smiles from dear friends who love her and want to celebrate with her.

She may not like it, she may feel a little awkward at being the focus of so much attention. But we won't make it too hard. We'll decorate like Martha Stewart and offer her gifts and champagne. Lots of champagne.

laura gordon photography