Ode to Blueberry: Pie

I’ve encountered enough supermarket blueberries to be jaded by their lack of flavor. But somehow the sight of those round marble-sized berries still draws me. Wouldn’t it be wonderful to live within walking distance of a blueberry farm? What does a sun-ripened blueberry actually taste like? I image somewhere out in Maine there are wild blueberry bushes that children run to on lazy summer afternoons to pick and eat the berries just because they can.

Sometime last week after work I stopped by the local grocery store to pick up just a couple of things I needed. When the sliding doors opened, and I crossed the threshold, there right near the entrance was a stand stacked with pints of blueberries. SALE. Two pints for three dollars. I would have walked past unaffected; however, I noticed how plump these berries were. My goodness, I thought. These are not shriveled up misers that appear during the winter season. These are fleshy, contented looking blueberries. Summer is just around the corner.

I left the store with two pints of blueberries.

I ate them fresh–and was I surprised by their flavor! They HAD flavor. The berries indeed were fleshy, and they were sweet.

A couple days later I went back to the store, only this time there was no stand by the entrance loaded with blueberries. They probably sold out, I thought. If only I could get another couple of pints I would make a pie. Oh, that would be divine!

Lo and behold, the blueberries were relocated to the produce section, and there were only a few pints left. I checked them carefully to make sure these weren’t rejects. Nope. They looked happy and healthy to me.

So, without much ado, I made my purchase and that evening I baked a pie.

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