The Things We Do For Love...

Larry & I had volunteered to drive Andy to basketball camp at the UW yesterday. I was looking forward to it. It would be a good opportunity to spend some time with Andy, and a chance to visit Seattle as well.

The day started out a bit drizzly. We picked Andy up at around 11:00 and off we headed. He probably thought the ride there was pretty boring. I know how hard it is for a 15 year old to make conversation with his grandparents! The traffic wasn't too bad and didn't slow down much until we were just about in front of Matt's crane, so I had a good opportunity to take a couple of pictures of my baby boy way up there in the sky!

Matt obviously didn't inherit my fear of heights. He loves it up there!

Before we knew it we were turning off at the 45th Street exit and heading for the University of Washington. It always brings back such wonderful memories for me. A lot has changed - The "Ave" is totally different than it was in the early '70s, but the walkway onto the campus looks just the same, except for the big "W"...

We dropped Andy off at Hec Edmundson Pavilion and promised to pick him up at 4:00. We began driving around, and before we knew it found ourselves heading for the waterfront.

 Our plan was to drop me off at the Pike Place Market - I would run in and buy some fish and chips - and Larry would pick me up. We would then find a park somewhere to eat lunch. Well, that didn't happen! The traffic was really bad, as usual in downtown Seattle, and we couldn't figure out how to get onto the street that runs in front of the market. Before we knew it, all of the street names had "south" at the end, so I knew we were going in a direction we didn't want to be. We ended up driving along Lake Washington and saw some fantastic mansions, but weren't really sure where we were going.

We headed back toward the University District and looked for the park Larry had seen on the map, but it turned out to be a golf course. We eventually ended up at University Village and, since I was starving, I ran in and  got a Bombay Bowl at the Veggie Grill.

It was delicious - quinoa, cauliflower, broccoli, potatoes, mushrooms, and a yummy coconut sauce.

Duchess got a lot of attention from passers-by.

and gave Daddy a kiss...

 

It was so pleasant in the shade that we just waited there until it was time to get Andy.

We picked Andy up and started for home. As we were at a stoplight, I noticed that we were in front of a very memorable place...

A bit of history, from Wikipedia...

The Blue Moon is located on the west edge of the University District. It has been visited by many counterculture icons over the years. It opened in April 1934, soon after the repeal of Prohibition in December 1933. It is the first and oldest tavern in the U-District. It was an instant hit with students; under state law, students had to trek one mile from the campus to purchase drinks. The Blue Moon was one of the rare bars outside of the Central District to serve African American servicemen during World War II. It had further heyday in the 1950s and 1960s. Regulars included author Tom Robbins, poet Theodore Roethke, and painters Richard Gilkey and Leo Kenney. Visitors included Dylan Thomas, Ken Kesey and Allen Ginsberg.
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A popular story states that sometime in the late 1960s, Tom Robbins tried to call the artist Pablo Picasso in Barcelona from a pay phone at the Blue Moon Tavern. Supposedly, Robbins got through to Picasso, but the artist refused to accept the overseas collect calling charges.

The Blue Moon declined in the 1970s. Efforts to "redevelop" the property in 1989 were derailed by community activists; however, an attempt in 1990 to gain landmark status failed. Developers spared the tavern after landmark status was denied. The Blue Moon remains one of the few surviving blue-collar landmarks in Seattle.

I remember visiting at least once, back in the early 70s. I can't imagine wanting to set foot in there now!

We finally made it back onto I-5, and it was pretty slow going. I took a couple of more shots of Matt's crane...

and  we managed to get Andy safely back to Nora's office. Whew!  Every time Larry  drives to Seattle, he swears it's going to be his last time, but we love you, Andy, and it was worth it!

The Journey of a Blackberry

Blackberries have always been my favorite fruit, but when I was a child, blackberry picking was a summer ritual that I absolutely hated. We donned our long-sleeved shirts and long pants, to avoid as many scratches from the prickly vines as possible. That alone was torture on a hot August day. And then out would come the pails, which were coffee tins with holes drilled on two sides with wire handles. There was one for each of us, and our goal was to fill them to the brim. We would journey to some out-of-the-way spot, I remember that Chennault Beach was a particularly good one, and start picking. The berries grew up a gently sloping hill, so up we climbed.  It wasn't enough to just get the berries on the outer edges of the bushes - climbing in amongst them was necessary to get each and every little black morsel in our buckets. Dodging the blackberry vines was the least of the dangers - stepping in a rabbit hole was the worst thing that could happen! Spending the rest of the day with a tennis shoe full of dirt was not pleasant, and the thought of stepping on a bunny was even more terrifying. I really hated getting my hands dirty, and as the day progressed, the berry juice combined with the dust that we seemed to kick up as we traipsed through the bushes, turned into what looked like a permanent stain. I hated the feel of it, and couldn't wait to get home and wash my hands with Lava soap!

It was all worth it in the end. When we got home, Mom would gently transfer the berries from our pails into a big Tupperware bowl, pick out the leaves and twigs, rinse them well, and they were ready to be transformed into luscious treats. A blackberry pie would definitely be on the menu soon, with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, of course, but the very best thing to come from the blackberry picking experience was Dad's blackberry pancakes. My dad typically didn't spend a lot of time behind the kitchen stove. His only cooking skills involved grilling chicken or steaks in the backyard, but during blackberry season his griddle expertise shone through. His pancakes were so delicate and full of juicy berries that all they required was a pat of butter and sprinkling of sugar.

I have to admit that my fingers had not touched a blackberry bush for fifty years or more until I visited Margie last summer and helped her glean the last few berries from the vines behind her house. They became a scrumptious cobbler, which brought back so many wonderful memories. When we discovered the massive amounts of berry bushes behind our motor home this summer, I was thrilled. Sylvia must have felt somewhat the same when she wrote this poem:

Blackberrying

By Sylvia Plath

 

Nobody in the lane, and nothing, nothing but blackberries,   

Blackberries on either side, though on the right mainly,

A blackberry alley, going down in hooks, and a sea

Somewhere at the end of it, heaving. Blackberries

Big as the ball of my thumb, and dumb as eyes

Ebon in the hedges, fat

With blue-red juices. These they squander on my fingers.

I had not asked for such a blood sisterhood; they must love me.

They accommodate themselves to my milkbottle, flattening their sides. 

Yesterday Larry and I picked enough of the very first ones to ripen to make a cobbler in the crockpot...

We did not crawl into the bushes, however, although there were some gems to be found there!

 

and there are still a lot waiting to ripen!

Since we don't have much room in our refrigerator, we only picked enough for the cobbler. 

I found a recipe online at crockpotladies.com

Crock-Pot Blackberry Cobbler

Ingredients

Fruit

4 Cups fresh or frozen blackberries

1/2 Cup granulated sugar

2 Tablespoons corn starch

Cobbler Topping

2 Cups All-purpose flour

1/2 Cup granulated sugar (or sugar substitute such as Splenda)

1/4 Cup Butter, melted

1/4 Cup milk

1 teaspoon baking powder

Pinch of salt

Instructions

1. In the bottom of a 4 – 6 quart crock-pot pour the berries, 1/2 cup sugar and cornstarch and toss lightly to coat the berries with the sugar and cornstarch.
2. In a medium bowl mix the cobbler ingredients – flour, sugar, melted butter, milk, baking powder and pinch of salt until a soft dough forms.
3. Dot the top of the fruit in the slow cooker with spoonfuls of cobbler dough, making sure to keep the dough off the side of the crock.
4. Cover and cook on HIGH for 4 hours or until the fruit is bubbly and the dough is is cooked through.
5. Serve plain, with ice cream or whipped cream and enjoy!

I had to make a quick trip to Albertson's for more sugar and cornstarch...

I love this little crockpot! It's just the right size for the two of us.

  Whenever I'm adding milk to a batter, I can't help but sing the song from Maurice Sendak's "In The Night Kitchen," one of Matt's favorite books when he was very little....

 "Stir it! Scrape it! Make it! Bake it!"

The berries are ready for the topping!

 Woops! I grabbed the pepper grinder instead of the salt! Only a few grinds made it in ~

 should be interesting!

  Needs a little more milk... actually, it's half & half...

Perfect!

and on goes the lid...

 

It needs to cook for four hours...

I'm never sure how the crock pot recipes will turn out, but this one was fantastic!

 Thank you, Crockpot Ladies!

 

Yummo!