A wintertime delight: Blackberry cobbler

I can remember my mother spent a few weekend mornings each summer picking blackberries all around the family farm and sometimes I would join her, bucket in hand, eating more right of the bush than what I reserved for taking home.

I examined each one carefully, noting the size and darkness of the berry. Tempted by the sweetness, it was easy to get carried away, but the true joy was going to come later in the day with a freshly baked blackberry cobbler, so I tried my best to help collect and fill the containers.

There were many drawbacks to picking your own out in the field. Fingers were torn up by thorns and the constant fear of a copperhead lurking somewhere in the brush was a main concern, but also the hot sun coming up making the chore almost unbearable in the late afternoon.

After a morning of berry picking, my mother would immediately make our family a cobbler, and all of that morning’s harvest vanished into a sweet memory by midafternoon.

I am convinced; no one can make a blackberry cobbler like my mother.

This week, I’m sharing my mother’s recipe.