Picked some blackberries from our yard the other day.
When I was 11 years old, my mother and I moved from Tampa, Florida to Intercoastal City, Louisiana. Most Louisianans haven't even heard of Intercoastal, it's so small. It was situated right next to the Vermillion bay, and parts of it were so low that every time it rained, some of the roads would flood. We only lived there for 3 years, but when Hurricane Katrina came in 2006, I couldn't even let myself think about what remained of that little city.
When we first moved there, we lived with my uncle's family. One day, out of boredom, my cousin suggested that we go pick blackberries. There was a field close by that no one owned, and it was filled with low blackberry bushes. When I think about my summers in Louisiana, I think of the heat and sweat on our backs as we bent down, of the thorns scratching our legs, and the purple stain on our fingers, as we picked those berries. After picking, we would wash them, and stick them in the freezer. Once they were frozen, we would eat them like ice, or smash it with a bit of sugar for a poor man's fruit sorbet. Sometimes, the berries might go into cold glasses of Sprite, and the bubbles would pop, pop, pop around the fruit until we chugged down the fizziness to get to the tart berry at the bottom. I really miss those summers now, because they were also filled with crawfish boils, oyster bakes, and the best $1 boudins from the corner grocery.
Great. Now I'm craving cajun/creole food, too.
I reduced the sugar (of course) by only using half of the amount called for, subbed lime for lemon, and it still turned out delightful. I like the tartness with a hint of sweet...It goes great on english muffins, cinnamon bagels, vanilla ice cream, and
with a pb sandwich.
"I don't mind the seeds too much" is what I keep telling myself since I don't have a medium sieve to strain out the seeds. Really. I don't mind the seeds too much.