Wild Blueberries

Last summer I discovered mulberries; yesterday I picked my first quart of wild blueberries. A walk around the block brought me to the mulberries; a drive across state lines and a five mile hike was necessary to find these blueberries, but it was well worth it. Wild blueberries are the very essence of blueberry. They're not as fleshy as their cultivated cousins and their seeds are more prominent, but they taste sweeter and bluer and somehow... berry-er.

These berries are probably best enjoyed in the woods: a sweet reward for energy spent, but if you do happen to have a container with you and if you have the self control to put more berries in the container than in your mouth and if you manage not to trip over any roots or rocks on your way down the mountain and spill your hard earned loot and if there are any berries left after the car ride home, you can make a delicious jam out of them.

Wild Blueberry Jam

Adapted from the Pomona's Universal Pectin box

• 4 cups wild blueberries, mashed
• 1/4 cup lemon juice
• 2 tsp. calcium water
• 1 cup sugar, more or less depending on your taste
• 2 tsp. pectin powder

• Cover jars, lids, and rings with water in a large pot and bring to a boil. Turn of heat and let stand in hot water.
• Place berries and lemon juice in a pot and add calcium water. Mix well. Combine sugar and pectin powder in a separate bowl, mixing thoroughly. Bring the fruit mixture to a boil. Add the sugar-pectin mixture and stir vigorously for 1-2 minutes, until dissolved. Bring back to the boil and remove promptly from heat.
• Fill jars to 1/4 inch from the top. Wipe rims clean and screw on the 2-piece lids. Put filled jars in boiling water to cover. Boil for 10 minutes. Remove from water and allow to cool, listening for the distinctive popping sound of jars sealing.

Give as gifts or use to fill cakes.

When I have made jam in the past, I have used only fruit and sugar and lemon juice, shying away from adding pectin. I liked the simplicity of it. What I didn't like, however, was the vast quantity of sugar required. I felt that I could hardly taste the fruit through the sweetness, so yesterday I heeded a piece of advice I overheard an old lady dispensing two jam-making seasons ago: "Just buy pectin and use the recipe in the box. It works every time." And it did work. And for four cups of fruit I used just one cup of sugar and my jam tastes like the wild blueberries from which it is made.

Panna Cotta with Mulberries, Cassis, and Teeny Tiny Tuiles

I really like pudding. I am particularly fond of silky, smooth egg custards, but this slightly firmer cream and gelatin dessert is not half bad either. The nice thing about panna cotta is the complete absence of fretting. You just mix it up and bung it in the fridge and forget about it until after dinner. The most stressful part is the unmolding, and if you don't feel like it, you don't even have to do that. So thank you to David Lebovitz for sharing Judy Witts' recipe, which I have here cut in half to serve four.

Panna Cotta

• 2 cups heavy cream
• 1/4 cup sugar
• 1/2 vanilla bean
• 1 packet powdered gelatin
• 3 Tbs. cold water

• Heat the cream and sugar in a saucepan. Once the sugar is dissolved, remove from heat. Split the vanilla bean lengthwise, scrape the seeds into the cream, and drop the bean pod in too. Allow to infuse for half an hour.
• Remove the bean, then put the cream back over medium heat and while it is rewarming lightly oil four custard cups with a neutral-tasting oil.
• Sprinkle the gelatin over the cold water in a medium-sized bowl or large measuring pitcher and let stand for 5-10 minutes.
• Pour the very warm cream mixture of the gelatin and stir until the gelatin is completely dissolved.
• Divide the Panna Cotta mixture into the prepared cups, then chill them until firm, at least two hours, preferably more like four.
• Run a sharp knife around the edge of each PannaCotta and unmold each onto a serving plate, garnishing as desired.

Serve with berries or drizzled with honey.

For the syrup, I simply simmered 100g of berries in about 4 Tbs. of cassis until it had reduced considerably. I mashed the berries with the back of a wooden spoon and then passed the mixture through a sieve to get rid of the seeds, trying to get as much of the pulp through the sieve as possible.

Tuiles

• 1/4 cup butter
• 1/2 cup powdered sugar, sifted
• splash vanilla
• 2 egg whites, lightly beaten with a fork
• 1/2 cup flour, sifted

• Preheat oven to 350°F. Line baking sheets with parchment and set aside.
• Cream butter, sugar, and vanilla together on low spead. Beat in lightly egg whites a little at a time, beating very well after each addition. Fold in flour and mix until just combined.
• Chill the batter for half an hour.
• Place a circle stencil on parchment (or preferably silpat) lined baking sheet. Spread batter in stencil. Remove stencil and repeat, leaving some room between each one.
• Bake about 7 minutes, or until edges of cookies are golden brown. Centers should remain light. Remove cookies from baking sheet at once and drape over something that will give your tuiles the shape they're named for.
• Batter can be kept in the fridge up to a week.

A delicious accompaniment to just about any pudding.

The tuiles are very similar to last weeks langues du chat, though the proportions are slightly different and they take powdered instead of granulated sugar. I expected them to spread as the langues du chat did, but, probably because they use half the butter to the same amount of sugar, they didn't spread at all. So there you go--make your stencil the size you want your finished cookie to be.

A crisp cookie, a substantial, creamy pudding, and a berry whose acquaintance I am very happy to have made: a good end to any week.

Mulberries

I am so glad I went for a walk around the block this afternoon. I've been feeling a bit cooped up the past few days--a summer cold, knee surgery, and an entire month of rain will do that to even the most stalwart soul--so following on the success of yesterday's short venture outside, I decided to go for a stroll before cooking dinner. My block is not the most picturesque and I hesitated before turning the corner, but in the end I decided to take my chances. If only all my gambles ended so deliciously.

I past the saw mill on the left, S.'s house on the right, and just ahead saw a man obscured by foliage greedily gobbling whatever was growing on the tree. I started to walk by, but thought better of it and instead asked, "What do you have there?" "Berries." "Mmm. What kind?" "Mulberries." "I thought so," I said, "My mom and I were just talking about mulberries." And without an invitation I picked one for myself and popped it in my mouth. He assured me they were very poisonous. Not worth eating. Really, very bad for you. I paid him no heed and continued to pick and eat the small fruits because they were delish and just as much mine as his. I ate a few more and then picked myself a handful to take home for dessert. When the berries started rolling off the mound I held in my palm I started to feel like the greedy character in a Greek moral tale and decided I had enough.

Several possibilities ran through my head: mulberry cobbler for one; mulberry tartlets; mulberry crisp; mulberry crumble. In the end I just sprinkled them with a bit of sugar, let them macerate while I prepared and ate dinner, and yummed them up with some whipped cream and two of the langues du chat I made on Sunday.

I don't think you'll find them at market, somehow. They're not as luscious as a blackberry or spritely as a raspberry, but they're a fine berry in there own right. They're firmish, subtly sweet, and definitely tart--if you happen upon one that is perfectly ripe the sweetness does actually outweigh the tartness. Their seeds don't get stuck in your teeth--I didn't notice them at all--which is nice and although their little green stems don't seem to come off, I didn't notice them any more than I did the seeds. If you ever get the chance, definitely give these berries a try.

Having discovered this mulberry tree, I feel my block has become that much more attractive. I'll be walking that way more often, I think, and if there are any berries left--if the birds and that man haven't eaten them all--I'd like to pick enough to bake something.