While Matt et al. played an interminable round of golf yesterday, I caught up on chores and waited for it to cool down enough for an enjoyable run. Kate's still out of town and Katie had run before work so I had to go it alone. Around 7:45 p.m. I finally started running my No. 7 route.
I had gone about three-fourths of a mile when I spotted blackberries on a vacant lot. I abandoned running and, even though I was wearing a company shirt and technically trespassing, ate every ripe one I could reach. In about 10 minutes I ate probably $10 worth (based on Harris Teeter pricing) -- store-bought blackberries are unbelievably expensive.
Then I resumed my run, which by then was simply a quest for more blackberries. I was disappointed, though. I found only two more small patches of them before giving up and turning around.
When I was a little girl my family would go on summertime walks through what is now a neighborhood close to their home, and we would pick bags and bags of blackberries. Now most of those bushes have been torn down as houses were built on the lots. I am determined to grow blackberries and possibly other fruits in the back yard of our new house. I need to research how to do that.
In honor of today, here is Mom's simple, scrumptious blackberry cobbler recipe:
Cover bottom of 8"x8" pan with blackberries. Sprinkle a little sugar and add a few spoonfuls of margarine on top of them.
In separate bowl combine 1 egg, 1 cup milk, 1 cup sugar, and 1 cup Bisquick. Pour mixture over blackberries.
Back at 350 degrees until done.
2 comments:
What an appropriate post! Thursday night I ate 90% of mom's scrumptious blackberry cobbler all by myself. Mom sent it home with me, and Stephen doesn't like cobbler, so I had to take on the daunting task alone. I graciously accepted the challenge, of course.
Matt doesn't like cobbler either. What is up with these boys? You'd hardly know they're Southern!
But as you say, it just means more for us.
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