Rita Pooler won a wild blueberry pie contest in Maine with this recipe. I pulled it off the Martha Stewart website in the 1990s. It’s still there, if you search “Rita’s Simply Blueberry Pie” there or on just about every other major foodie web site.

We don’t have wild blueberries in North Texas, but every year, I try to make a run to East Texas to pick some up. Lately, Blueberry Hill Farms in Edom has been the place to go.

I’m posting it now for Sarah Junek, whose birthday is today. Sarah went picking at farm near Houston and made a pie she was disappointed with.

When you work that hard for your berries, you should always be able to count on the pie. So, here you go, Sarah. Happy Birthday! This pie is awesome.

Rita’s Simply Blueberry Pie

Crust:

2 1/3 cup flour
1/3 cup cake flour
1 T. sugar
1/2 tsp. salt
1/2 cup unsalted butter
1/2 cup shortening
1/2 cup ice water

Filling:

5 cups blueberries
1 cup sugar
2 T. flour
2 T. cornstarch
1 T. lemon juice
1 T. butter

Glaze:

1 egg white
2 T. white sugar
1 tsp. brown sugar

Sprinkle lemon juice on berries. Mix flour, sugar, cornstarch and add to berries. Toss lightly. Set aside while you make the crust.

Mix flour, sugar, salt. Cut in shortening and butter. Add water and mix gently until moist. Divide into two balls and roll out one into pie plate. Spoon in filling and dot with butter. Roll out second to cover the top. Fold top edges under the bottom and flute. Slit the top to vent.

Beat the egg white with the water and brush on top of the pie. Sprinkle with sugars. Bake at 425 F for 10 minutes. Reduce heat to 350 F and bake 45 minutes or until done.

When an etude or solo went well in my weekly lesson, my music teacher at the Eastman School, Cherry Beauregard, would so clearly enunciate his compliment — “that was pretty damn good” — I’d almost not notice how inappropriate it was.

Of course, times were a little different then, too.

Mark had never been a student of Cherry’s, but when he finally met him, he’d heard me repeat the compliment for more than five years. After he met Cherry, Mark could parrot him almost perfectly.

It was one of the great private jokes between us.

After I made this ice cream this weekend and took my first bite, I wished Mark was nearby to hear, because it’s Pretty Damn Good.

Caramel Ice Cream

1 1/4 cup sugar, divided

2 cup cream, divided

1/2 tsp. kosher salt

1/2 tsp. vanilla

2 eggs

1 milk

In a wide, heavy bottom saucepan, melt 1 cup of the sugar until it turns amber. Stir until it begins melting, and then swirl to keep it from burning. Add 1 cup of the cream (careful, it can splatter), then remove from heat and stir until caramel dissolves.* Stir in salt and vanilla and allow to cool to room temperature. Whisk eggs with remaining 1/4 cup sugar until frothy, stir in milk and remaining cream. Fold in caramel and freeze.

*Don’t worry if it doesn’t all dissolve at first. It will keep dissolving as it cools. And if a few bits are still there when you start churning they will melt into cool little pockets of caramel in the ice cream.

I pulled out my file of old-school cakes from Regina’s recipe collection to look for something new- to-us. We may have an occasion soon that calls for cake.

I got excited when I read the earnest description Regina’s friend, Doyline, wrote at the end of this recipe. “It will rise and then fall. It is supposed to do this.”

When it comes to Regina’s old-school, cook-from-the-box cake recipes, I’ve learned to roll with it, but this one has a real problem. It calls for Betty Crocker Butter Pecan frosting mix. The good people at General Mills don’t make that anymore. After a bit of research, I’ve learned that it’s been so long since they’ve made this product that it doesn’t even show up on the purge-your-coupon-collection lists. (And also, I found a Facebook group “Hey Betty Crocker Bring Back Rainbow Chip Frosting” with nearly 6,000 members, but I digress.)

Except for Fluffy White, Betty doesn’t sell box mixes anymore, just frosting by the can. Online, I found one recipe that took its inspiration from this old-school recipe. It calls for you to fold in a can of the coconut-pecan frosting, instead of the mix, the pecans and the coconut. But I think I might try something else. Trader Joe’s still sells vanilla frosting mix in a box. And, maybe toasting pecans in butter and salt before folding them in.

I have a microwave. It’s good for warming a cup of coffee, which is very important, don’t get me wrong. But I try not to cook in it.

With this significant exception: peanut brittle

I got this keeper of a recipe out of a family cookbook from an old friend in California. It turns out every time.

Peanut Brittle 

1 cup white sugar

1 cup white corn syrup

1 cup roasted, salted peanuts

1 tsp. butter

1 tsp. vanilla

1 tsp. baking soda

In a 1 1/2-quart microwaveable bowl, stir sugar and syrup. Microwave on high power for 4 minutes. (Be careful each time you remove the bowl from the microwave as it gets increasingly hot.) Stir in peanuts and microwave on high for 3 – 5 minutes until light brown. Stir in butter and vanilla, blending well. Microwave on high 1-2 minutes. (By now, everything is very hot.) Add the baking soda and stir gently. It will become lightly foamy.

Pour over a lightly greased cookie sheet. Let cool about one hour. When cool, break into small pieces. Store in airtight container. Makes about 1 pound.

I didn’t want to post this recipe until I had a chance to talk to Aunt Regina again about it. A few of these old recipes from her collection have called for ingredients in ways that you don’t often see anymore. This one called for a “can of coconut.” I searched on the web for some understanding, since you can still get coconut in a can. But I wanted a better understanding from her. We went out for a visit today and enjoyed barbecue from Bodacious. I got her Mailbug to 10-digit default dialing and Michael changed out eight lightbulbs. Then we sat in the parlor and I played sing-along songs on the old upright piano and Michael got her talking about her shadow box of trinkets from three trips to Israel.

She told me that canned coconut was moist, and that was important to this recipe. And, it was about the size of a Coke can. So, about 1 cup of fresh grated coconut should do. (I’d substitute butter for the shortening and skip the butter flavoring.)

By the way, she has another coconut cake recipe that takes a cue from a tres leches cake and couldn’t be simpler. Bake a yellow cake. When it’s still hot, poke holes all over. Pour over a can of coconut cream and a can of sweetened condensed milk and then top it with coconut flakes.

I had the pleasure of sharing some of Aunt Regina’s recipes with Ashley West when I spent the afternoon with her recently. She cans preserves and pickles and sells them at the Denton Community Market on the Farmhouse 43 label. We featured her in a recent story to advance the fair. Ashley ended up winning six ribbons for her creations, including two blue ribbons. (I bought a jar of that blue-ribbon blueberry mojito jam last weekend. Yum.)

It was nice to spend a little time with someone who appreciates what can be found in old recipes.

Like any good cook, Aunt Regina collected a lot of cake recipes. I’ve shared a few here and here. I’ve noticed that her collection favors pound cakes. I like them, too. They are easy to make and they keep well. No fancy decorating required either. Top with fruit or whipped cream.

This one calls for a glaze. I don’t know the history of this recipe, but I checked what some Internet Peoples had to say about it. I’ve seen references to its publication in a Southern Living magazine in the 1980s. J.R. Watkins has a variation on its web site.

Given how many extracts the recipe calls for, it seems a recipe like this would have been developed in their test kitchen.

But, if it was good enough for Aunt Regina to write it down and keep it in the accordion file, then it’s a keeper.

Maybe we’ll see pickles like Aunt Regina used to make. Here are some more pickling recipes for the bounty from your garden.

For the first time in many years, I’m growing dill and okra for okra pickles. They were one of Mark’s favorite. It’s taken a while for the heart to heal enough to make them again.

Don’t let anyone tell you that cooking and food and love don’t go together. They totally do.

Although I am also growing elephant garlic, I discovered one year that it doesn’t pickle with okra. Well, it does, but only if you don’t mind eating blue-colored garlic.