Blueberries

Maine is well known for a lot of things; its lighthouses, rocky coasts, when the leaves change to golden oranges and fiery reds, endless pine trees, brutal winters, potatoes (?), lobster, and of course blueberries. When I was in summer camp a million years ago they would gather up all the kids and take us blueberry picking, it was sort of a haul distance wise and keeping track of all of us was a pain so we were limited to one visit a season. I remember it being so much fun, even if the blueberries were far and few in between. Real Maine blueberries are actually pathetically tiny, so we had to gather a lot for the counselors to make us each a blueberry milkshake

These days I forget that blueberry picking is a thing, so when our friend Rachel invited us out to Blueberry Hill Farm I got incredibly excited. We picked over five pounds for only $14, what a deal! These blueberries were massive though, compared to the smaller-than-a-dime typical Maine stock these were about the size of quarters. We probably picked about ten pounds but ate half before we got the scales.

With two huge containers I decided we couldn't just eat them all by the handful, I mean we could, but we'd probably get sick of them really quickly. So I decided to whip up a blueberry pie, my first pie ever! With the squeeze's mom's help it was a success and I didn't burn their house down, with some vanilla ice-cream on top it was, how you say, magnifique!