BLACKBIRD PIE

"Blackbird singing in the dead of night.You were only waiting for this moment to arise..." -the Beatles

My father called it Blackbird pie, way back when. Blackberries were something my mother loved to pick in late August. She would be amazed that we can now get farm blackberries earlier. Without the picking. But back then we used to have to pick them way out at a church graveyard. I hated going out there. It was so far. The canes were so scratchy. wasps buzzed. Snakes slithered.  We  loaded up the old Dodge with basins galore and a large metal ladder. The old car had holes in its floorboards. You could see the road swish by. I could stick my toes down into the holes.  Feel the wind on them. Shudder.

My mother wore her engineer overalls. Stained with blackberries, bleach, paint, etc. She drove in them. Stopped for gas on the way. Got out of the car to open the gas cap. Someone else pumped gas....those were the last   years of THAT before we had to  do it ourselves. The other car behind us   thought she was an employee. They asked for gas. I  slumped down in my seat. Stuck my toes into the holes in the  floorboard. Then we'd be off for the blackberry patch. My mother sang as we went. Her out of pitch songs wafted out of the open car windows.

The Blackberries were located in a cemetery on the outskirts of town. The church it was connected to is now long gone. Years later, they put up a parking lot and aerobics studio around the old  gravestones. But back then, I imagined zombies and vampires coming to get us. My mother  grabbed her long metal ladder and laid it up the massive bramble wall.  Cars whizzed by overhead. People trundled by on the sidewalk above.  She climbed that ladder like a pro and her hands flew. Berries plopped into basins . They sounded like bullets.

I think I ate more then I picked.  My mother's face was streaked with purple juice , on her hands, on her overalls. Basins were full. But my mother couldn't get down from the ladder. One of her suspenders got caught  on the ladder rung, and she swung from it like a pinata, shrieking for me to cut her down. She managed to rip off the offending suspender and plopped into the brambles; just scratched up a little but fine. She  laughed and retied the scarf on her head. She was pleased with our haul.

The ladder, the basins of blackberries all piled back  into the car. On the way back I stuck my toes into the holes  on the floorboard. It was starting to rain, and my toes got wet. My mother  made Black bird pies, Blackberry cream pies, tarts, crumbles, Blackberries and cream, Blackberry muffins, jams, jellies, even juice. She mended the overalls. Much to my chagrin. She wore those overalls  to the store later that week to get varnish to do the downstairs floors and when she took a pie to the couple across the lane, and the neighbours  on the other side as well. 

The next  August we returned  to our blackberry haunt, like we did every year.  It was all  torn out. The graves were still there. But the church was gone, the little forest was gone. A construction sign had gone up. My mother got out of the car. She just stood there for a while. She finally told me how she used to come to this place with my dad. They'd pick blackberries almost every year. Only then he was the one wearing the overalls. That's why she wore them. They were his. And this was their place. Where they would pick enough blackberries  to make him Blackbird pies.......

BLACKBIRD PIE: 6-8 cups fresh blackberries ( Better than frozen which can make for a gooey pastry), 2 pie shells ready to roll out, 1 cup sugar, 4-6 tablesp flour, sprinkle cinnamon, sprinkle almond flavouring, 

Combine washed berries with sugar and cinnamon and almond flavouring. Preheat oven to 400F  Add the flour .............

"If reasons were as plentiful as blackberries..." 

                   -Shakespeare

Combine all together.

Pile into pie crust. If you want to blind bake the bottom you can first. But I didn't. Worked well.

Top with pie shell and slash with a knife.....

Melt a little bit of butter and spread over top of pastry.

Sprinkle with raw sugar

Bake at 400F for about 30 minutes. Really does a nice job on the pastry. Cover with foil and then lower temp to 350F and back a further 40 minutes till the juices bubble out. Serve plain or with vanilla  ice cream.......

Photographs 2021