Blueberries Quotes

“...and the story as it plays out in my mind is that I became a writer (if that was what it was) when I started to realise that I wasn't loved and that maybe I never would be. I was nineteen and poetry was snaking out of me because I felt badly treated, or I was newly aware that I'd colluded in my self-annihilation and the love I had sought up until then was shit. I became a writer when I learned that I was a person and not just a figure inside another person's libidinal imagination - I am still not entirely that, though, a person; still part of my brain is lobotomised by the fantasy of glory and worthiness in libidinal abjection and I have to somehow live with that.”
― Ellena Savage, Blueberries: Essays Concerning Understanding

“Most people don't know that heartache smells like blueberries.”
― Stacey Lee, The Secret of a Heart Note

“When you stand on the banks
of Penn Swamp Pond in August,
those injuries can save your life
and keep you picking till the bush is bare.”
― Charles Rafferty, Where the Glories of April Lead

“I have many wonderful memories of this days we had together. It would make me happy to know that at least a few of your memories of me are good ones. I wonder if you ever think about sitting under that oak tree, with the cicadas buzzing, and, at night, the crickets. Or how the ice used to cover the blueberry bushes in the winter, giving them that dreamy look. Or how we used to sell the pies for your mother at the roadside stand.
I still think of you whenever I see blueberries.”
― Mary Simses, The Irresistible Blueberry Bakeshop & Cafe

“I have many wonderful memories of those days we had together. It would make me happy to know that at least a few of your memories of me are good ones. I wonder if you ever think about sitting under that oak tree, with the cicadas buzzing, and, at night, the crickets. Or how the ice used to cover the blueberry bushes in the winter, giving them that dreamy look. Or how we used to sell the pies for your mother at the roadside stand.
I still think of you whenever I see blueberries.”
― Mary Simses, The Irresistible Blueberry Bakeshop & Cafe

“Yeah, this place needs a better-quality blueberry muffin." I raised a pointed finger. "And I could provide it."
"You sound pretty sure of yourself," Jim said, placing a pat of butter on his baked potato.
"And there are always blueberry pies," I said, pausing to think of other possibilities. "Turnovers, cakes, croissants..." I popped the fry into my mouth. "I don't think anybody's done blueberry croissants."
"No," Jim said slowly. "I don't think they have."
"Of course, I'd sell some other things, too. Can't all be blueberries," I mused as I began to envision the bakery- a tray of lemon pound cake, peach cobbler in a fluted casserole, a basket of pomegranate-and-ginger muffins. I could see myself pulling a baking sheet of cookies from the oven, the smell of melted chocolate in the air. There would be white wooden tables and chairs in the front room, and people could order coffee and sandwiches. Maybe even tea sandwiches, like the ones Gran used to make. Cucumber and arugula. Bacon and egg. Curried chicken.”
― Mary Simses, The Irresistible Blueberry Bakeshop & Cafe

“Without thinking about what she was doing, she pulled blueberries from the icebox and peaches from the fruit bin.
She might have only been seven years old, but she was smart enough to know that her mother would have a fit if she pulled out knives, or did anything near the two-burner hot plate. Instead, Portia, pulled the peaches apart, catching the sticky-sweet juice on her tongue as it ran down her fingers. She found a slice of angel food cake wrapped in plastic and plopped the fruit on top.”
― Linda Francis Lee, The Glass Kitchen

“Bonnie comes over with a metal sugar duster and taps it over the top of the cake, the little blueberry globes and peach crescents turning frosty white with powdered sugar.”
― Jennifer Gold, The Ingredients of Us

“Lottie's cake is last. This one is layered three deep, impressive for a moist, snacking-style cake, which normally couldn't be stacked. The bottom layers are bound together by a thick cream cheese icing, while the top is coated with a thick streusel crumble held in place by a circle of decorative piping.
"It's a layered blueberry buckle," Lottie says, looking at Betsy hopefully.
"Now that is another unconventional choice from you," Betsy says, eyeing the streusel topping, an odd choice for a layer cake.
A buckle is a humble sort of cake--- old-fashioned in its simplicity--- that she hasn't seen around in years. Nowadays most prefer a thick layer of icing, buttercream they can decorate, or the scraped edge of a naked cake. Something meant to impress on a table or in a photograph rather than just be eaten at a family dinner or on a picnic. Secretly it's kind of a relief to see such a normal person's cake given its due.
"The decoration is lacking," Betsy tells her flatly, though the completely bare sides show an even sprinkling of blueberries, which is impressive. It can be difficult to keep berries from falling to the bottom of a cake, but these are evenly distributed throughout.
The knife glides into the cake, which has a springy sort of give to it. She cleaves a slice away, leaving a small avalanche of streusel crumbs in its wake. The cake inside is plump and golden, studded with juicy blueberries. Betsy can tell before she even takes a bite that it has been cooked to perfection.
The flavors hit her tongue and bring on a wave of nostalgia so strong that she has to steady herself against the table. It is heavenly, the sweet and sour of the blueberries wrapped in the soft vanilla-y cake. She is instantly transported back in time, back to her childhood. It is unquestionably the best cake of the bunch, simple and satisfying, the kind that if you were to bake it at home would leave you wanting more, taking secret trips to the kitchen to cut another slice.”
― Jessa Maxwell, The Golden Spoon

“WHITE PEACH AND BLUEBERRY SALAD WITH ROSE SYRUP
Salade de Pêches Blanches à la Rose

It's nearly impossible to improve on the white peaches in Provence, but I did find a bottle of locally made rose syrup in the boulangerie that piqued my interest. This makes a quick but surprisingly elegant dessert for guests.

4 perfectly ripe white peaches, cut into 1/2-inch slices
1 cup blueberries
1-2 teaspoons rose syrup

Combine all the ingredients.

Serves 4.


Tip: Rose syrup is available online and from some specialty supermarkets. A small bottle will keep forever in the fridge. You can use it to make champagne cocktails or raspberry smoothies, or to flavor a yogurt cake. You may find rosewater, which is unsweetened (and very concentrated), at a Middle Eastern grocery. Use it sparingly (a few drops plus 1 or 2 teaspoons of sugar for this recipe), otherwise your fruit salad will taste like soap.”
― Elizabeth Bard, Picnic in Provence: A Memoir with Recipes

“Through the plastic wrap on top of the box, I showed Selma all the little five-pointed stars on top of each berry. A whole box full of little blue-black stars. “Pepere said that the early Wabanakis called blueberries ‘star berries.’ They believed the Great Spirit sent them down from the sky once when there was no other food to eat.”
― Cynthia Lord, A Handful of Stars