The Blackberry-Apple Ritual

When we were young, we would spend the summer with our dad in London. He had a house in Wembley with a garden. And in the darkest corner of the garden was a blackberry bush. We always came in August, and were always "lucky" (so we thought) to get the blackberries at their ripest. We would each get a large bowl, wade through that dark corner, and somehow it was always a fantastic surprise. "Blackberries!"

We would pick blackberries until our fingers were deep red with juices -- looking like we had lost the fight with the blackberry thorns. But we would emerge smiling and carrying bounty!

We would walk into the kitchen, where Beverly would have the apples already sliced. We'd help crumble the crumble. Top the pie, put it in the oven. Eat dinner. Take out the pie. Make custard while it cooled just a little. And have the warm deep red blackberry-apple juices peeking from under golden crumble and ochre custard.

So now you know why I had to make this. This is the late summer ritual. Even if our bush isn't that large and our harvest wasn't that huge. Plus, we have apples from our garden. And these were the first ripe ones!

Oh, and I added blueberries (more than the picture shows) - because the blackberries needed some help. So, I guess, it is really a mixed-berry-apple crumble. More than good enough!