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Wednesday, 06 July 2016 10:14

Black and blue perfect colour combination for berries

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I don’t think of myself as superstitious. At least, I really don’t want to.

The superstitious, after all, have to contend with all kinds of neurosis and I have had enough of those.
For example, there was the horror of walking to Kindergarten, anxiously hopscotching over cracks in the sidewalks, lest my careless, walk-where-I-please-ways, put my mother in a wheelchair.
Did the curse of Step-on-a-crack-Break-you-mother’s-back include only large fissures and frost heaves, I wondered as I side-stepped and tip-toed? Or would trodding on surface crackles cause, perhaps not a broken back, but some kind of horrible strain?
Did it apply to sidewalks alone, or also paved streets?
 Shoes, for certain, but what about roller skates and bikes?
 These were the questions faced by my Kindergarten self.
As a result, I trespassed on a lot of lawns.
In the intervening years, however, I learned to place no faith in sidewalk-based theology.
I walked and ran and skipped and rode bikes over all manner of cracks. And nary a one of them, so far as I could tell, caused anyone else’s spinal damage. Except, perhaps, my own.
 There was a rollerskating incident that mangled my tailbone and earned me a trip to the Mennonite bonesetter (an unlicensed chiropractor who’d gotten her start on chickens before moving up to sheep and people).
For five dollars, this ancient woman would correct matters of the spine, in her living room/practice that smelled of lineament.
Other minor back injuries have followed over the years.
I slipped and fell on a rise of outdoor steps that had been left mounded with compact snow and ice by a new-to-Canada couple from California, who either didn’t have a shovel, or understand winter.
A dozen visits to a physiotherapist mostly fixed that damage.
Then, while reaching into our chest freezer for a box of blueberries I’d tagged for a cobbler, I bent at the waist. I leaned deep down into the bottom of our chest freezer, all the way to the bottom.
I grasped a box of frozen berries by its edges.
I tugged with too much conviction.
And POP! went something in my back.
I’m on a wait list for an MRI.
Meanwhile, Chefhusband is carrying heavy pots and small appliances from one side of the kitchen to the other for me, and fetching all groceries more cumbersome than a jar of jam.
And when a recipe calls for cutting cold butter into flour, or beating cream cheese into hard ice cream for cheesecake sundaes, he’s there for that, too.
So while it’s true that I’m no longer superstitious about sidewalk cracks and mother’s broken backs, I do have to say, i’m just a little paranoid, now, about lifting boxes full of berries.
As it turns out, “Lift with your legs” is much a more sound philosophy than “Don’t step on cracks.”
Cheesecake Sundaes with Black and Blueberry-Rum Sauce
4 cups vanilla ice cream
1 cup cream cheese, softened
1/3 cup whipping cream
2 Tbs granulated sugar
crushed graham crackers
Using a wooden spoon, beat together cream cheese, cream and sugar until smooth. Beat in ice cream until incorporated. Transfer to an airtight container and refreeze.
Sere scoops of ice cream with crushed graham crackers and black and blueberry-rum sauce.
Black and Blueberry-Rum Sauce
1 1/2 cups fresh blackberries
1 1/2 cups fresh blueberries
1/3-1/2 cup sugar  
3 tbsp cornstarch
1-2 tbsp cold water
3 tbsp lime juice
1/3 cup demerara rum
Into a medium pot over low heat, combine berries and sugar. Crush half of the berries with a wooden spoon, then stir until juices run and sugar dissolves.
In a small bowl, whisk together cornstarch with water and lime juice. Add to berries, increase heat to medium. Stir briskly until the cornstarch is cooked and juices have thickened somewhat.
Adjust for acidity and sweetness as desired. Stir in rum and cook a minute longer. Cool and serve.

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