Viva la recipe. Mangia!

Summertime evokes memories of picking blueberries — my favorite berry — with my dad and sister on a mountaintop in the Adirondack Mountains. We would walk down the dirt road to the Methodist campground along the Hudson River in a country town called Riparius in upstate New York. Here, the river was shallow with a gentle, swimmable current that turned to swift rapids in the Fall when rafters, even the Kennedys, would take to the swiftly moving waters for thrills and adventure. But this was our summer home, the summers of our childhoods when Dad was a bandleader at a summer resort. Although August meant that summer would soon end and we would return to the city and go back to school, August was my birth month and the month when big, sweet, juicy blueberries would ripen on the mountaintop in the campsite.

One year, Dad took ten-year-old me and my little sister up the winding dirt path, as high as we could go, because that was where we would find the most berries for our pies, pancakes, and cereal. We would carry our plastic sand pails that we took to the beach every day, but on berry-picking days, they became blueberry pails. We would pick and fill until we had three pails full and had eaten all that we could while we picked. It always felt closer to the sun at the top of that mountain, which in reality was more of a large hill. But at the top, the sun shone down on us with scrub and brush. It was only as we made our way back down the dirt path with our treasure that the taller tress shaded and cooled us. But this was where the downhill hike became slippery and tricky. The trail veered sharply to the left, and if you weren’t careful, you could slide straight off the side of the mountain.

On this particular day, I remember I was sweating, miserable and in a hurry to get down the hill, so I walked far ahead of my dad and younger sister. My dad called out for me to slow down so I wouldn’t spill any of the berries. Just as he cautioned me, my Keds skidded in the dirt, I landed on my bottom, and I slid right to the very edge of the slope, one foot dangling over the edge. All I could hear was my dad’s voice calling, “Save the blueberries!”

Miraculously, I managed to hold the pail up high by its handle, keeping it upright without spilling a single juicy blue orb. By the time I got to my feet, my dad and sister reached me. Dad kept asking if I had spilled any of the blueberries. I asked him if he’d even worried about me for one second, and he suddenly set down his pails of berries to give me a hug and a sigh of relief, waiting until I stopped shaking. My sister started to cry as she realized what might have happened.

We had a leisurely stroll home, walking three abreast down the dirt road and towards the hilly path up to our summer cottage above the river. The gentle rush of water and the breeze through the trees helped cool and calm us and by the time we reached mom, we were able to laugh as we told the story of “Save the blueberries!” Somehow, the pie we baked that day seemed to be sweeter and juicier than any we had previously baked. Each summer, we would bake with Dad, and we added new blueberries recipes to our repertoire — pies, custard tarts, muffins, pancakes, and waffles.

As an adult, I love all berries, and buy more than I can eat every time I grocery shop. Sometimes I spread them out on cookie sheets, then freeze and bag them for use once their season ends. One of my favorite recipes for blueberries is one that I’ve worked hard to perfect over the past several years. You see, I’ve loved tea and scones ever since we travelled to England when I was fifteen. But somehow, when I’ve bought them in the states, they’ve quickly turned into tasteless rocks.

The secret I’ve learned from other bakers is actually a trick I’ve used for my homemade pie crusts for over thirty years — grate frozen unsalted butter for the recipe — I prefer Kerry Gold or Cabot, and then chill the dough before baking. This produces a fluffier scone, crisp on the outside but moist and ready for butter to melt and drip as we devour the warm berry-laden pillows of goodness.

Blueberry Scones

2 cups AP flour^

1/2 cup granulated sugar (or 1/4 c. granulated + 1/4 c. turbinado)

2 3/4 teaspoon baking powder

1 1/4 teaspoon Vietnamese Cinnamon*

1/2 teaspoon salt

1/2 cup unsalted frozen Kerry Gold butter (1 8 T. stick)

1/2 cup heavy cream or half and half (but nothing lighter, and nut milks just won’t give you the same texture)

1 large egg

2 teaspoons pure Madagascar vanilla extract

2 cups blueberries++

Directions:

1. Use a large whisk to combine the first 5 (dry) ingredients in a large bowl
2. Grate the frozen butter directly over the flour mixture to avoid losing any in the transfer from another bowl
3. Cut the butter into the dry ingredients (I have best results with a wire pastry cutter, but I’ve also used my hands) The trick is to work quickly so the butter doesn’t melt too much, but you want the end result to feel like a bowl of tiny peas)
4. You can refrigerate this mixture while you mix your wet ingredients, or you can have your wet ingredients ready to combine into the dry mixture. The trick is to work quickly here to keep your butter as chilled as possible.
5. Wet ingredients: In another bowl, use a hand mixer to combine cream, egg, and vanilla extract. Add to the dry mixture and as you are working the dough, add your blueberries. Use a rubber spatula to gently work the blueberries into the mixture, working until all the dry ingredients are incorporated into the wet, and your blueberries are nicely dispersed throughout the dough without breaking too many.
6. At this point: Preheat oven to 400 degrees; Chill your dough in the refrigerator; Wash your berries, being sure to pull any stems that might still be attached.
7. Once your oven is ready, remove the dough from the refrigerator and turn it out onto a well-floured counter or onto a sheet of parchment paper that will fit your cookie sheet. The dough is somewhat sticky, so don’t try to use a rolling pin. Rather, flour your hands and gently work the dough into an 8″ round, about 1 inch thick, so it will fit but not hand over the sides of your cookie sheet.
8. Cut your dough into 8 wedges using an ulu cutter (a wedged cutting tool you can rock back and forth to separate the wedges – I LOVE mine! It was a gift someone brought back from Alaska). Leave at least 1-2 inches inch between the scones on the baking sheet. *** You can either work your dough in a floured surface or directly onto your parchment-lined cookie sheet but be sure to use your cutting tool to slide the wedges apart, so they don’t melt together in the oven.
9. Chill your wedges on the cookie sheet for about 15 minutes. (This step will also keep the dough from melting into one big glob and keep your scones in lovely wedges. Remember, the whole idea behind the chilled, grated butter is to produce fluffier scones. Yu can refrigerate the wedges overnight if you want to prepare them ahead of time.)
   Optional toppings: glitter or coarse sugar, vanilla icing, but they are sweet enough for those who don’t want the extra sugar.
   If desired, you can brush cream across the tops of the scones and sprinkle with a coarse or glitter sugar. OR you can make a quick vanilla icing of sifted confectioner’s sugar, vanilla and cream to drizzle on top after the scones are baked and have cooled slightly.

IF you have any scones left over, I recommend refrigerating or freezing them once cooled and heating thawed scones in the microwave or oven. I love them served warm with a tub of Kerry Gold unsalted butter.

Helpful Hints:

^+ 2 tablespoons flour for working the dough

*or a regular, good quality if you don’t have Vietnamese cinnamon, available from King Arthur; Vietnamese has a higher essential oil content and a stronger, almost sweet flavor

++ or less, but I want sweet, juicy berries in every bite!

NOTE: As tempting as it may be to skip the chilling steps, DON’T! I’ve done it in my haste to bake and eat already! But the end results are much better if you chill the dough while you mix your wet ingredients and before you bake.