Blueberry Buckle

by Caitlin

Some of my fondest and earliest childhood memories are of being in the kitchen. Dad's homemade mac-and-cheese in the fall, or maybe Pot roast on a cold, dark Sunday in the winter, the whole family assigned to their tasks with music playing in the background. To this day I can't hear Eric Clapton, Fleetwood Mac, Paul Simon, or the Moody Blues without thinking of my parents' kitchen.  

I remember being 8, and Mom letting me make bacon and eggs on my own. (It's how I learned that eggs will stick to the pan unless you use something to keep them from doing so.) I remember my first cookbook: Put out by the library, it was a collection of recipes from people in the town, and many of them used the microwave. I was in love.  

My parents were pretty liberal when it came to use of their kitchen and ingredients, and for that I will be forever grateful. My brother and I loved making "potions" out of whatever we could find in the cabinets. It was a total waste of ingredients, but priceless fertile ground for our imaginations. Oh, how the concoctions would fizz when you dumped in baking soda.

My grandmother has always been a good cook, with a particular penchant for baking. I loved going over to her little yellow house, coming in through the breezeway, and making a direct right into the tiny galley kitchen. There was an orange ceramic cookie jar on her counter, and I can probably count on one hand the number of times that I lifted that little round lid -- oh delicious anticipation! -- to find it empty. Chinese chews, lemon squares, chocolate chip cookies, snickerdoodles, the beloved molasses crinkles. 

 

Oh those molasses crinkles. 

 

When I was first living on my own after college Gram and I used to exchange letters. I would ask her for certain recipes (blueberry buckle, her famous apple pie, lemon lush, cereal mix), and she'd write back about her recent activities, painstakingly handwritten recipe cards enclosed, just as I'd requested. I've saved them all, in a tin box she once gave me that she used to use for recipes. What a fantastic rainy day activity that is, pawing through cards and letters with Gram's handwriting on them. The truth is I've only used the recipes a handful of times, but I can't bear the thought of her someday not being here and no one knowing the recipe for her apple pie. 

 

She used to always tell me, back when she still lived in a place with a kitchen, that she was saving her cookbooks for me. That she'd even written my name in them, because when the time came, they were mine. Gram's a strong, feisty, independent lady and I guess I never imagined she'd ever not have a kitchen, ever not cook. But today she lives in an assisted living home, no longer has a kitchen, and somewhere along the way she passed on several of her cookbooks to me.  

 

(Fret not, she's doing pretty okay: She even has a boyfriend. He lives across the hall and they have their nightly cocktail together before heading down to the dining hall. She's robbing the cradle though. He's only in his 80s!)  

 

Flipping through those cookbooks, seeing the splashes and dabs on the pages, her notes in the margins, the well-worn spines: It's a piece of living history, a time-machine to my childhood and part of her life. I picture her in that little kitchen, bent over the cookbook, making notes as a cobbler sits cooling on the stove, the counter covered in mixing bowls. My favorite has to be the book put together by people in her hometown church. She told me it was her favorite cookbook, and she wrote my name right on the front. Taped inside the front cover is a piece of yellow paper that says "Anything made by Anita Buddington is good."  

Well-noted, Gram. 

Thanks, Anita. 

image from closetcooking.com

Anita Buddington's Blueberry Buckle

(Gram made this often when I was growing up, usually in the summer during prime blueberry season. We often ate it as dessert, but it's great for breakfast too.) 

 

Cake

1/4 cup butter

1/2 cup sugar

1 egg

1 cup flour

1 1/2 tsp. baking powder

1/2 tsp. salt

1/3 cup milk

1 pt. blueberries

 

Topping
1/2 cup sugar
1/3 cup flour
1/2 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 cup butter    

Cream butter, add sugar and mix well, add egg. In a separate bowl sift flour, baking powder, and salt and alternately with milk to first mixture. Fold in blueberries and pour into an 8 inch greased square pan. Mix first three ingredients of topping, then rub in butter. Sprinkle over blueberry mixture and bake at 375 for 45 minutes. Also good with chopped nuts added to topping.

Comments

[Charese]

That was lovely. It made me think of my own grandma and what a treasure she is.

[stephanie]

A food site should not bring tears to my eyes, but I love, love, love this post so much.

[Airlie]

This is one of the best things I have read. Thank you for the story...it reminded me of my own grandmother.

[Jennie]

It really was lovely. Such a sweet post for your family and a delicious recipe I want to try. Thanks, Caitlin.

[Tracy]

Caitlin, you are such a talented writer. I love this post and it too reminds me of my grandmother (and grandfather who is also quite the cook)! I will have to remind my mom not to throw her original betty crocker cookbook. It has lost its binding entirely and has splatters on almost every page and hand written notes all over. I want my own piece of living history!

[Rebecca (Bearca)]

I love this post, Caitlin! Almost teared up because I was remembering my own grandma. She passed away four years ago.

[Alison Ryan]

um, YEAH. Making this for sure. And Now I'm all goosebumpy about your sweet Gram. I don't even KNOW her and I'm charmed!!

[TeF]

best post ever, not kidding
<3

[Dani]

This was the most beautiful recipe post I've ever read. Thank you!

[Rebecca]

This is fantastic. This is very similar to my childhood . . . right down to the Moody Blues (let's not even mention the food my little sister and I wasted on those long summer days!) My grandma, now 90, is also a wonderful baker. Now the cookie jar is often empty or filled with some store-bought cookies, but it never was when I was a child. I am going to go bake a pie!

[Duncan Hannah]

Holy Mackerel. That orange cookie jar was in my house when I was a kid. I wonder where itisnow. I sure wouldn't have thrown it out.

Gram is 94 And her main squeeze, Al, is 92 now. He's still driving sobecareful if you come to RI.

Caitlin, You always had the ability to make her young again. She's gotten a tad cantankerous but when you come home, she lights up. I can still see her and you sitting at the kitchen table, and her saying to you ' Oh, Caitlin, we don't reallyNEEDmen!'

This was after I spent a daydrivingher around looking for a new TV.

You now have the awesomeresponsibility of making her apple pies. The secret lies in only your head and hers. I hope you are not overcome.

Love,
Dad

[Caitlin]

Dad, I was wondering the same thing. I wonder if she got rid of it when she moved? Also, remember the little pattern on it? Did she paint that? It kind of looked like some of her paintings to me.

Wow, it's been a while for she and Al then! Time flies when...you're in your 90s? I guess? And yes, do be careful on those RI roads AIEEEEEEE

I think this is my favorite comment ever of yours. And fear not: Gram's pie recipe is safe.

Speaking of: When she was teaching me growing up there was a recipe (it was in her head, but it was a recipe). When I asked her for it she wrote me a letter and said she didn't have a recipe "So I'll just tell you what I do..." and wrote it out. Amazing lady.

xoxo

[Caitlin]

Also: I had no idea she'd had that since you were a kid. That's...wow. I sure wish that it were still around.

[Duncan Hannah]

I'll have to check the cellar but I don't recall seeing it. It made that distinctive little clinking noise when you were trying to steal a cookie. I know that sound well. And it was never empty when I was a kid, either.

[Heather]

I miss my grandmother.