Blueberries are very yummy and very good for you, but I never really thought anything of them til last weekend when I went blueberry picking with my Dad and Mom.
Usually I would arrive with kids and hubby in tow, my hungry and happy entourage of messiness and noise. In fact, I usually wouldn't dare arrive without them - my parents always hug me tight when they see me, but I can feel them peering over my shoulder greedily, anticipating the sight of grandchildren - that most coveted of creatures to any grandparent!
But that weekend it was just me, and so my parents and I set out every morning for adventure - long drives down dusty dirt roads would lead us to rolling hills dotted with doe eyed cattle chewing their cud and noble horses tossing their manes. Walks through the garden led to sitings of bright red cardinals, spunky blue jays, and close encounters with bald eagles and osprey, and an afternoon exploration of a neighboring town took us quite by accident to a local "pick your own" blueberry farm.
I admit it, this city girl was very skeptical at first - it was hot and sticky out, I was of course wearing 3 inch wedges (duh! I had on boot leg jeans! Fashion dictates!) and the pails they gave us had to be filled completely, according to my Dad. After a very long and treacherous (in wedges) walk to what the farm hand called the "best patch out of them all" we settled in for an hour and a half rhythm of picking, sweating, swatting and eating (mostly my mom did that last one).
It was during this part that my view on blueberries began to change forever. My father doesn't talk much when completing a task - he is efficient and focused, mostly just grunting in response, can't waste time, gotta get it done - typical first-born child. But today, he was full of wisdom... and not just about berries. At one point I made note of how full each bush seemed to be with ripe berries. "I don't think I could pick every single berry from even ONE of these bushes, Dad," I yelled out to him. His reply, "You really shouldn't try to pick every single one, it would discourage those who will come behind you later."
Something in my heart warmed up right there on the spot - it was such a wonderful, toasty feeling that had nothing to do with the sun beating the sweat out of me at that very moment. It was the warmth of my heart telling me "pay attention - this isn't just about blueberries.. this is a life lesson." It was the warmth of being reminded of the kind of man my father is. What kind of man cares about those who will "come behind us later?" I'll tell you... my Dad. Admit it, most of us wouldn't have given a single thought to the next days' berry picking tourists - not that we would have purposefully and maliciously picked every berry on the bush, maniacally laughing like Ursala in the Little Mermaid "HAHAHA! Now you will NEVER pick enough berries for that pie you were going to make!!!! Buahahaha!!!"
More than likely, most of us... well, we wouldn't have thought of anyone else at all... just blithely go along with our pail and pick, pick, pick.... but not my Dad, he finds something amazing and good,... and he thinks of others, of someone else having the same joy we were having right at that moment.
Later that night, my Granny was about to make her famous dump cake, with our fresh picked blueberries! As I sat back to rest my abused city feet, my mother called to me "You need to make the dump cake tonight, you need to learn how it's done, girl!" Ummm, excuse me? I usually just sit back and relax, until a warm bowl of the stuff is presented to me. Dump cake is a standard in my Granny's house - I've eaten more servings of dump cake then there are episodes of every sort of Law and Order in existence (that's alot!)... and yet, I couldn't have told you how it's made.
Until that night. I obeyed every order, standing alongside Granny, as she leaned precariously on her cane like a bone china tea cup - fragile, beautiful, and made of the best stuff. She and my parents showed me how to wash the berries without squishing them, how to freeze them without frosting them, and finally, it was just she and me, cooking berries, cutting butter, and mixing ingredients in the baking dish.
When it finally came out of the oven, bubbling and golden brown, I looked down at it with pride. Dump cake never tasted so good as it did that night! It wasn't until I lay staring into the darkness of their guest room much later that I realized another nugget had found it's way to me that day... ... I knew how to make our family's dump cake...Wait a sec.... I know how to make.. our family's dump cake! I sat straight up in bed, eyes brimming with tears, smiling goofily into the darkness. I just made Granny's dump cake. It wasn't granted to me with pomp and circumstance in some grand cathedral ceremony and you wouldn't find it bequeathed to me in any will... but right there, in my mother's kitchen, a rite of passage had taken place. Granny had just given me an inheritance and it had less to do with berries and more to do with a piece of her that was now in me, my hands could now move a little bit like hers, my kitchen could now pass on that bit of her to my children, and maybe one day, their children.
So, yeah, it's official, I love blueberries! Before last weekend, they never would have hit my personal Top 40 list of foods... but after that weekend, I'll never be able to see a blueberry without being reminded of some important values: to think of others and to value joy enough to pass it on.
Granny's Dump Cake Recipe
2 sticks of salted butter, thinly sliced into pats
2 cups of chopped pecans
3-4 pints of fresh blueberries (or your favorite fruit pie filling or frozen fruit)
2 cups of sugar
1 yellow cake mix
Cook fresh berries on medium high til about to boil, remove from heat and mix in sugar. Spoon out the berries into a 9x13 baking pan, discard the liquid (it's ok if some of the liquid gets into the pan). Spread the dry yellow cake mix over the top of the berries. Place the butter pats over the entire top. Sprinkle with desired amount of nuts (it's ok to leave nuts off if you don't like them). Bake uncovered for 30-45 minutes at 350 degrees (until golden brown).
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