These are the first days of summer, and the strawberries are starting to ripen, and that means it's jam time. Of course, you can't make jam and not have fresh bread come to the party, so I took care of that little problem too. I think the bread and jam thing is something that has carried over from my mom. I still remember spending summer days playing outside and coming home to a kitchen filled with the aroma of fresh bread and strawberries. I was a little more svelte back then and could put away about three buns and jam with a cold glass of milk. If I tried that now, I'd have quite a collection of increasingly larger big boy pants.
"Strawberries, raspberries, and blackberries thrive here. From these they make a wonderful dish combined with syrup and sugar, which is called 'pai.' I can tell you that is something that glides easily down your throat; they also make the same sort of 'pai' out of apples or finely ground meat, with syrup added, and that is really the most superb."
From a letter written by a Norwegian immigrant to friends back in Norway (November 29, 1851)
Imagine the sense of anticipation experienced by the early settlers as they waited for the blueberries to "come in." A pail full of blueberries must have been equivalent to a Doctor's prescription of a remedy for the winter doldrums. A cache of little blue pills enveloped in a flaky pastry crust or made into jam. Canning jars full of the cure, put away to enjoy later, knowing that later would come sooner than you think. It's a part of the fruitful abundance of a Minnesota summer. Blueberries.
I have family visiting and made a Blueberry pie, it's almost required at this time of year. All that is left is an empty pan.