So called because it's a mix of black and blueberries and my recipe needed a name.
It's a steamy June day here and because my little rooftop wheelbarrow and co. garden was a skillet, I opted to go see about those wild blackberries in the woods across from my house. Many were ripe and I decided to go a-picking.
Let it be noted that the pictured Sur le Table apple green colander was once my paycheck splurge and my subsequent Friday night date during my Cincinnati days. You see, Sur le Table was in the same open mall as Whole Foods, I was a graduate student and the colander had been on my radar. As I had been paid my pitance of grad. school salary, I picked up the colander, headed over to Whole Foods, set Sir Granford Smith Colander on the seat across from me (in its giant paper and twine wonderful Sur bag) and felt deeply satisfied.
As today, it gathers my requisite berries and our hunt is a success.
Now, I wanted to bake something with my gathered berries, preferably something that would also make use of the pint of blueberries in the fridge that needed to find a use, but I also didn't want to bake the fresh blackberries as I felt that something of their wildness might get cooked away.
I went another hunt, this time for a recipe. I found something that looked simple and kind of icebox pie-esque. I decided to use it as a guideline. ( It was called Todd and Jenny's Fluff Pie.) With no offense to T & J, it looked a little, well, dull, so I planned some rewriting:
1. Instead of the lemon yogurt, I did one lemon and one Greek yogurt in the honey flavor. That extra protein just seemed really filling and healthy.
2. I began with a layer of lemon yogurt that I smeared on the graham cracker crust.
3. I mixed the honey yogurt with the whipped topping and gently folded-in my about half of my wild blackberries and the store-bought blueberries.
4. I covered the top of the pie with the remaining blackberries and sprinkled candied ginger slivers over that.
Verdict? Well, I love super-strong flavors so I couldn't help but imagine either more ginger throughout or a stronger-lemon bite and cardamom (because I can't love that spice enough.) But the pie was meant to be a nice little breakfast option for Mr. P.C. and he is not so big the fan of all my strange seasonings as am I, so...
We have a lovely, light pie with a nice serving of protein, besides. There are more berries ripening even now. Soon, I try my first jam.
Late August, given heavy rain and sun
For a full week, the blackberries would ripen.
At first, just one, a glossy purple clot
Among others, red, green, hard as a knot.
You ate that first one and its flesh was sweet
Like thickened wine: summer's blood was in it
Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger
Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots
Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.
Round hayfields, cornfields and potato-drills
We trekked and picked until the cans were full,
Until the tinkling bottom had been covered
With green ones, and on top big dark blobs burned
Like a plate of eyes. Our hands were peppered
With thorn pricks, our palms sticky as Bluebeard's.
We hoarded the fresh berries in the byre.
But when the bath was filled we found a fur,
A rat-grey fungus, glutting on our cache.
The juice was stinking too. Once off the bush
The fruit fermented, the sweet flesh would turn sour.
I always felt like crying. It wasn't fair
That all the lovely canfuls smelt of rot.
Each year I hoped they'd keep, knew they would not.