Did you ever read Blueberries for Sal growing up? Little Sal is supposed to be picking wild blueberries, but instead of going into her pail (plop, plop!) they go into her stomach instead.Sounds like someone I know.
A few weeks ago, Lorne and I took one last ‘Hurrah for summer!’ trip up to Acadia National Park (adore) in Maine. There was already a tinge of fall in the air, but the last of the summer crops were in full swing. Including this roadside operation that specialized in wild blueberries—all straight from this family’s backyard.
They sort the berries on a conveyer belt (this is remarkably similar to how wine grapes are sorted, too, I’ve since learned).
And package them into big, beautiful five pound boxes.
Five POUNDS of wild blueberries!? I’ve never seen anything so gorgeously abundant. Normally a little pint in New York goes for upwards of $5, and these huge boxes were $15.
Reader, we got a box. Truth: We should have bought two.
The blueberry containers for storing. So colorful!
And the wild blueberry machine…it has a comb-like bottom that goes through the low bushes and literally just pulls them off.
This is a sign to make you turn off the road in a heart beat. (Our super sweet campsite at Blackwoods, where all of the blueberry “cooking” magic happens.)
First up: Peanut Butter and Blueberry sandwiches, perfect for wrapping in foil and taking on long hikes. The tiny blueberries get a little smashed and are like a thick compote come lunch time.
Peanut butter on both sides of the bread is crucial to keep these from getting too soggy (plus everything is better with two times the peanut butter.)
And then blueberry yogurt parfaits, tucked into plastic containers to carry down the little secret path for ocean side breakfasts.
Go to Acadia. Buy blueberries.
And have one last sweet bite of summer. Happy October 1st! (And white rabbit…does anyone else play white rabbit on the first day of the month!?)