We’ve been berry-picking on an almost weekly basis for going on two months now.
Strawberries are my personal favorite, but E. is especially fond of blueberries (even though he tends to call them grapes). He has been on a real blueberry bender lately, working steadily through the big bucketful that we picked a few days ago.
I feel bad denying my baby fresh fruit, but I had to hoard a few of the berries so that I could make my great-aunt Marnie’s blueberry ring.
Marnie had a big, metal recipe box full of recipe cards and newspaper clippings that I was lucky enough to inherit several years ago. She loved to entertain and her recipes reflect that, with little notations about dinner party menus or cocktail pairings, like the words “good port” scrawled at the top of a recipe for chocolate walnut wafers.
Flipping through the recipe box is like stepping back in time. There are handwritten recipes for gingerbread and lemon meringue pie attributed to my great-grandmother who died 80 or 90-some-odd years ago, when Marnie was just a teenager; instructions for once-fashonable dishes like tomato aspic and Waldorf salad; a newspaper clipping about crab imperial from the now-defunct “Washington Star” newspaper….