I've been kind of slack posting my Saturdate with Southern Plates over the past few months, but I've been cookin' them just not posting them. Here's a recipe I made over a month ago.
One night, Shad and I were riding around on the farm he works on, and Shad said, "Here's the berries I've been eating this week." Normally that line would make me nervous about what he was eating, but I immediately recognized these berries...blackberries and raspberries, and bunches of them!
I knew blackberry cobbler was in Southern Plate cookbook, and being ever so adventurous (and cheap) I set out to pick my own blackberries.
I had several thoughts running through my mind in this picture. Here are just a few of them.
Doesn't everyone wear a sequined sweater when they go blackberry pickin'?
Was that a snake slithering across my foot? Oh, it was just a stick.
Flip-flops were definitely not a smart berry picking shoe choice.
Is that poison ivy?
Does poison ivy have five leaves or three?
Mama said to watch out for chiggars when you pick blackberries?
What are chiggars? (by the way I googled chiggars, and the actual picture of a chiggar now haunts my nightmares)
Is it safe for Brandon to be eating these right off the vine?
He's eaten much worse.
Note to self: Never let the four year old be in charge of the berry bucket.
Here was my harvest (I know "harvest" is an overstatement, but humor me.) Yes, I survived blackberry pickin' chiggar free!
We ate most of the raspberries before we got home, but I saved the blackberries for the cobbler. I hate the little seeds in blackberries so I only put about a cup and three quarters of blackberries in it. I guess it should have been called "cobbler with a few blackberries in it" instead of blackberry cobbler, but it was great. I love the tartness of the blackberries with the cobbler. I will definitely make this again next year when blackberry season rolls around.