All posts filed under: blueberries

buckwheat blueberry muffins, plus bonus cute baby animal eye-candy, from A Raisin & A Porpoise

get away

In the blink of an eye, or rather the long, cramped blink of a shuffle through airport security, some hours in an improbably airborne metal device, and another set of shuffles (is that my bag?), we have gone from winter wonderland to tank tops.  This is blessedly disorienting.  It has been quite some time since my last vacation, Father. As always, the period before departure gave me cause to wonder if in some earlier episode I have angered the gods of vacation.  There were the snowstorms, which of course we could not take personally.  Our dog ruptured a tendon in his knee. Our sheep began lambing two months before such an event was anticipated, and into deep snow and freezing temperatures.  And to drive home the point, one lamb was rejected by her mother and left to our attention. It’s a tall order to find good care for such an impressively precarious house of cards. It is also tough to feature how a creature fitting the description of the teeny lamb (winsome, petite, fuzzy, floppy-eared) …

everyday muffins

shop: a frolic

In college, my roommate knew the sure-fire way to turn my frown upside down was to administer an immediate cream puff.  I am harder to please in this way now, having developed a few objections to eating a cream puff the size of my head, but there is another activity that approximates this level of joy for me. I speak, of course, of the grocery safari.  Holiday shopping fills me with dread and alarm; most shopping, in fact, rapidly loses its luster once it moves from the theoretical to the overheated, over-soundtracked reality.  But give me a cross-cultural food outing any day of the week and I am a happy girl. Last week, on a junket to the Asian grocery that I like in Albany, I tacked on a side trip to an Indian grocery I discovered with my mad Google skills.  This gem happened (cue harps!) to be both a block away from the Asian grocery and in possession of a lunch counter.  When we (I always take a buddy, in case joy overwhelms …


hedge your bait

In an old Pillsbury Bake-Off cookbook that my mom has, of early 70’s vintage, there is a recipe for Blueberry Boy Bait.  It’s a very buttery and sweet, cinnamon-sugar-dusted one-bowl cake, but it almost doesn’t matter what it tastes like, right?  The name does all the work.  We used to make batches and batches of it.  As near as I can recall, no boys were baited.  But it was a tasty cake. I woke up thinking about Blueberry Boy Bait because someone left the freezer door open yesterday–not the Big Kahuna Freezer, thank goodness, because if that puppy defrosts, you will find me in the nut-house with all the nuts and the squirrels.  The mere notion of such an event gives me grey hairs.  This was just the little bottom-of-the-fridge freezer, where snacks are snatched hourly, and nothing much was lost besides a set of those yogurt & jam popsicles.  But a little bag of blueberries did thaw and then re-freeze, making me think that quickly dispatching them was best for all concerned. When it …