Dry Bones: Blueberry Pie Filling

I'm serving a church right now, that's about to suck me dry.  I mean really, bone chillingly, joint achingly, dry.

There's a saying, that travels around pretty frequently with us church-y types, that laughingly says: "The church would be perfect, if it weren't for the people."

Up until these past few months... such a statement always made me sort-a sad, in that "what a shame that some poor soul came up with that sentence, no doubt, as a result of their circumstances" sort of way.  But now I get it.

The people...
...are tiresome.
...and angry.
...and hateful.
...and passive aggressive.
...and manipulative.
...and sick.
...and needy.
...and whiny.
...and they don't wear white until after Memorial Day.  (Which means, by the way, that I was not to be trusted for the first two months...me...with my white pants and all, on *gasp* May 3rd.)

And I drag my dry bones home...waiting for the next ball to drop...knowing that THIS is why clergy have a disproportionately high percentage of heart attacks. 

Then I sink into my lounge chair, eating several servings of ice cream...okay, so maybe THIS is why clergy have a disproportionately high percentage of heart attacks...to satiate my aching soul and I wonder why I can go months without serving the church -- longing, gut wrenching months -- but when I get the chance, when I get the call...

...it hurts.

And then I remind myself that...

the people...
...are human.

And these humans, especially in this particular church... have the decked stacked against them.

Yet despite that stacked deck and their distaste for white capris even when the thermometer reads 91*...God's Spirit emerges...albeit, sometimes, begrudgingly or hesitantly or slowly... and you find...

Though some are tiresome... there are those who will lift them up.
Though some are angry... there are those with a good word.
Though some are hateful... there are those who offer forgiveness.
Though some are passive aggressive... there are those who will call them on it.
Though some are manipulative... there are those who are not.
Though some are sick... there are those who will visit them.
Though some are needy... there are those who will provide.
Though some are whiny... there are those who will sing.

And I suppose, if I were to be honest, it would be just as appropriate to say, "the church would be perfect, if it weren't for the clergy."

...who is so very human.  Bones and all.

I trust this moment of humanness will pass for this church... and it will not be so hard, so lonesome, so aching.  But I also trust that the humanness will remain for this church... and a world will be reminded that even dry bones can dance.

And when that day comes, I will need something besides all that ice cream I'm eating... so, I made Blueberry Pie Filling.

What you'll need:

10 Cups blueberries, washed
½ Cup water
1 ½ Cups sugar
6 Tablespoons cornstarch
5 Tablespoons bottled lemon juice
2 Quart sized canning jars

Wash the blueberries and set aside. Sterilize 2, one quart jars along with the lids in boiling water or in a dishwasher run without soap.

In a large stockpot bring the water, sugar, corn starch and lemon juice to a boil.  Pour in the blueberries and bring the mixture back to a boil, stirring continuously for about 5 minutes while the berries release their juices and the mixture thickens, becoming blue and glossy.

Set a funnel over a quart jar and ladle in the blueberry mixture, leaving a 1″ headspace. Repeat with second quart jar. Place the sterilized lids on the jar and seal them with the rims, only tightening the ring as much as you can with two fingers.

Place the jars in a pot of boiling water standing upright. Make sure the water covers the tops of the jars. Boil for 30 minutes, starting the timer when the water has returned to a boil.

Remove jars and place in a cool, dry place on a kitchen towel. Allow to cool overnight. Store jars for the long term in a cool, dry place until using.

******

I had fully planned to store and save this pie filling...for that rainy day or for when bones were once again alive...but unfortunately, the lids didn't seal and the jars overflowed.  So for now, they sit in my fridge...waiting.  Waiting for white pants and soothed souls...

Eggs And Jam Don't Mix

There are certain things in life, that just don't mix.

Like oil and water (though apparently, BP disagreed). Peanut butter and banana (yuck). Angelina and Billy Bob (what was she thinking). Or baked beans and my husband (they'll bring tears to your eyes... seriously).

But custard and jam? Yeah. Add them to the list. I'm just not sure that Emeril Lagasse knew what he was doing here.

If you wanna give it a whirl, here's what you'll need:

1 Pie crust (You can go to the trouble and make one yourself, or do the sensible thing, and have the Pillsbury doughboy do it for you.)
4 large eggs
1 Cup heavy cream
2 Cups half and half
3/4 cups sugar
1/4 teaspoon salt
Pinch nutmeg
1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla extract
Blueberry Jam (see recipe here)

Preheat the oven to 400*.

Bake until the crust is golden, 8 to 10 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack to cool. Reduce the oven temperature to 375*.

In a heavy saucepan combine the cream and half and half and heat until mixture just comes to a simmer, stirring occasionally. Whisk the eggs, sugar, salt, nutmeg, and vanilla together to combine. Add the hot milk mixture to the egg-sugar mixture and whisk briskly to blend.

Transfer custard mixture to the pie shell and bake until the custard is set but still slightly wobbly in the center, 40 to 45 minutes. Transfer to a wire rack to cool. When cool to the touch, store it in the fridge.

When you're ready, top with blueberry jam. Or don't. Either way, it's best at room-ish temperature.













I just wasn't taken by the egg and jam mixture. It's like my tastebuds didn't know what to focus on. I'd give this a C+ and Brett would give it a B. The custard itself, isn't bad, if you're into that sort of thing... but don't bother with the jam.

It's like toothpaste and orange juice (the worst). Or Brett Farve and retirement (eye-roll).

Visa's Got Nothin' On Me

Canning supplies.
$49.99

Jars, rings, and seals.
$27.99

Six cups of blueberries.
$6.76

Pectin, sugar, and cinnamon.
$5.00

One kitchen towel that did NOT see the blueberry blood bath comin'.
$2.50

Bandaids and Neosporin to cover the unfortunate splatter burns on the tops of my feet.
$2.84

The perfect piece of toast with homemade blueberry jam.
Nauseatingly expensive.













Clippity clop, clip clop. Calculator. Tappity, tap, tap.

Yep. Each jar of jam has cost me $11.89.

Sigh.

Here's the recipe for the jam, found in the book aptly named, You Can Can. I've made a few adaptations, so I'll list it the way I made it, and you can look the original up yourself.

What you'll need to make Blueberry Jam:
6 Cups blueberries
2 Tablespoons lemon juice
1/4 Teaspoon cinnamon
7 Cups sugar
2 Foil pouches of liquid fruit pectin

Once the blueberries are clean and dry, do the blueberry mash with a potatoe masher or the back end of a spatula. Mash those suckers until there's about 4 1/2 cups. In a large stock pot combine the crushed berries, lemon juice, cinnamon, and sugar, stirring well. Continue to stir as you heat to a full boil. Stir in pectin then return to a full boil. (Side note: I find it helpful to open both packages of pectin before you begin and stand them up in a coffee mug, for easy access... that way, you never have to stop stirring all that sugar, ensuring that scorching doesn't occur.) Boil hard, for one minute.

Ladle at once, into hot sterilized jam jars, leaving a 1/4 inch headspace. Process filled jars in a boiling water canner for 5 minutes (start the timer, when the water returns to a boil). Remove jars and cool on a towel, on the counter. (Another side note: make sure you use a towel, because the temperature differences between the jar, and some countertops, can make the jars crack.)

This was GREAT jam! That little bit of cinnamon is the perfect addition! We both give it an A!

Sleep Deprived Blueberries

Those blueberry plants I spoke of, produced (to date) twelve berries. They're tired... that little one, is just struggling to survive and the other one is wondering how weeds got to be as tall as he is, where the heck the pruning sheers are, and how come the to'maters get all the glory.


Okay. So we're not exactly Mo and Flo Farmer. We're city folk... we like the smell of exhaust in the morning. We like being able to reach out and touch our neighbors house. We like not knowing where our food comes from, dangit. *sigh*

Not really. We're just lazy and the weeds take over quicker the weed eater can keep up with them. (Yes. Brett took the weed eater to the garden. I know. You don't have to say a word.)

Anyway, I have big dreams for those plants... and their time will come. It will. But as I've said, I'm bound and determined to can, so we made an early morning trek to the the u-pick-it farm here in Northwest Missouri.

And see... this is why I take pictures. I honestly don't remember it looking this beautiful. Between some serious caffeine deprivation and trying to wield my picking-bucket, camera, kleenex, cellphone, and inhalers... I was a mess. Somebody should make something, that can easily carry all your necessities. You know, kind of like a bucket that hangs on your shoulder and thus, frees up ones hands, for other tasks. Huh.

We came home with about six cups of blueberries, ready to go to work!

And tomorrow? Tomorrow, I shall can!

And Now We Return To Your Regularly Scheduled Programming

I mentioned several posts back (like, before I got sidetracked with my husband being in another country) that it was my desire, to can. The strawberries didn't exactly pan out, but the one berry that did appear, was freakishly pretty.

We divided it in fourths and each had a sample. And yes, by "we" I mean myself, my husband, and our two dogs. Shuffles (the bunny) doesn't like strawberries.

It was tasteless, and I lose interest pretty quickly.

So I moved on to blueberries.

Months ago we rescued a fledgling blueberry plant out of the belly of WalMart. I can't stand WalMart, so I don't even know why we were there... I think I went in for a musket and some toilet paper. Instead, I walked out, with the first season of Jersey Shore and a dying blueberry plant. Good times.

Then we got crazy and sprung for the high dollar bit, snagging this beauty.

And for my birthday, my dear sweet, ever encouraging husband... bought me this.

He has such faith in me, I can barely stand it. That, and he knows I need a hobby. Unemployment is not my friend, people. Nope. Not even a little bit.

So. Let the canning begin.