Yesterday my mom and I went blueberry picking with the kids. It’s a Michigan necessity to pick at least a few quarts of wild blueberries every summer.
After picking, we brought our spoils home to be washed and bagged. (I think the only reason some of us Yoopers survive the winter is because we have a freezer full of wild blueberries.) Aili ate everything she picked immediately and then when my back was turned, she went to town on most of mine. I was extremely bummed out because visions of homemade blueberry jams were floating in my head.
Well, wouldn’t you know it, Robert watched the whole situation play out and he felt bad that I no longer had enough berries for jam. He told me to wait in the living room so he could make me something.
After a nerve-wracking ten minutes, Robert came to me with a small plated of Boston lettuce, pickle chips, and all the blueberries he had left.
“I made you a salad!” He told me proudly.
It was so dang cute and sweet, I ate the whole thing.
Note: blueberries and pickles are a horrifying combination.