Blackberry Pie

When I was a little girl, we'd spend summer vacations at my Grandparents ranch in Southern Arkansas.  There would usually be a family reunion of sorts during those hot days and always cousins around to play or do chores with.  One of our very favorite chores was to go down by the creek, each of us with pails, and pick wild blackberries.  We'd pick one for the pail and one or two (or more) for us.  By the time we'd get our pails full our faces, hands and shirts were stained purple and we'd all be itching from the pricks we'd received from the blackberry thorns.

We would proudly take our pails and show our mothers our hard work.  They would then turn the buckets over to my Gammer who would magically transform those delicious berries into a more delicious cobbler.  Gammer's blackberry cobblers were the stuff of legend in my family.  Though I haven't tasted one of Gammer's blackberry cobblers in probably 25 years, they still rank as my favorite dessert.  Many have tried to duplicate the cobbler but sadly, all have failed.  I think the magic of her cobbler was a combination of Arkansas wild blackberries picked at the peak of ripeness and the love that only Grandmothers can put in their creations.

My pie in the pictures above was a tribute to my Gammer and those lazy summers of my youth. 

Note to self:  We must plant blackberry bushes at Prairie Cairn Cottage!  This pie was delicious!  Even Little Black Brindle thought so.