Blueberries taste like my childhood.
My mother and stepfather lived for most of my childhood in a magical house on a hilltop covered in wild blueberries. Fresh blueberry muffins were a summertime staple in our family.
I had a hankering yesterday for blueberry muffins, so I went looking in the one place that probably had just the right recipe.
My mom always saved her favorite recipes by writing them in the blank pages of her favorite cookbook, or stuffing them in its pages. First it was her Joy of Cooking. Then, when it disintegrated with use, The New York Times Cookbook. I am now the keeper of that particular treasure trove, and for the first time since she died, I dug it out to look for her favorite blueberry muffin recipe.
It was there as I hoped, along with a whole lot of other memories and feelings and treasured tastes.
I’ve got some cooking to do this summer.