I’ve let you know previously that Texas-sized (I use the term disdainfully, which you can’t hear from typing, but know it’s there) containers of blueberries are available at the grocery store here. Well, I got another one the other day and started parading a series of blueberry-related treats around the house like a blueberry pimp sticking its blueberry hos on street corners waiting to be picked up by any muffin or cake that walks by and looks interested. And I still have a sack of blueberries in the fridge, just so you know.
Here’s the first blueberry product–blueberry coffee cake with cinnamon streusel. My brother asked a valid question; why are coffee cakes called such? I think the answer is that people traditionally served them with coffee, but I don’t drink coffee on the grounds that it a)tastes like total ass and b)makes the drinkers breath smell like total ass. I’m more of a tea girl, I guess. So this could be called a tea cake. Regardless, it’s dessert that I can call “breakfast” and then secretly enjoy much more than a typical breakfast. This is how I feel about waffles, french toast, pancakes, muffins, doughnuts, et al. I always feel totally jilted when I’m given eggs or something for breakfast because it’s the only meal I can substitute dessert for with impunity.
I liked that idea so much that this morning I did what amounts to a pastry instant replay and made blueberry cream scones with sanding sugar topping. Mmmmmmmmm. I felt like they needed that special “something extra,” so I made a batch of vanilla blueberry whipped cream to serve with them. Again, this appears to be nothing more than cake and frosting, but people would get all kinds of uppity if I just sucked it up and actually ate cake and frosting for breakfast, like I was some kind of repulsive anomaly. Oh well. I sent the extras home to my mother and sister, which is my little version of a humanitarian aid mission to Colorado. It is unknown whether or not the cargo was actually delivered or was confiscated by airport security.
And don’t think the blueberry is the only kind of berry getting stroked and prodded into sweet submission. This week’s grand rounds included a dessert of chocolate raspberry fudge bars with bittersweet chocolate ganache.
Incidentally, I just heard somebody on t.v. behind me say “blueberry mojito.” I feel a project coming on…