Blackberry Peekaboo Cookies

July heat. Eighty-eight in the shade. Worked at the construction company in Lexington this week. The body holds. Most days.

Connie at the vet clinic, four shifts this week. Her back is tired. She does not say so. I see it. Mama is 86. She is the toughest person I have ever known. She still cooks every day in the company house in Evarts.

Venison steaks Tuesday. From the buck I got in November. Cast iron, butter, salt, pepper.

Travis called Tuesday. The landscaping company is busy. He sounds tired in a good way. Amber called Sunday. Things are good. James sends his regards.

Connie made biscuits. The biscuits were biscuits. Some things stay.

Sunday service at Harlan First Baptist when we go. Pastor preached about Ruth and Boaz. The choir sang. Connie wore her gray dress.

The creek was running clear Sunday afternoon. I watched a kingfisher work the riffle. Did not move for an hour. Some Sundays the watching is the worship.

I went up to Earl's grave at the Evarts cemetery Saturday. Brought a beer. Drank half. Poured the rest on the dirt. Some traditions are mine alone.

The dog — old Beau, fifteen years old — slept by the wood stove all afternoon Tuesday. He used to be a hunting dog. Now he is a heating pad with opinions.

Travis sent a photo of Earl Thomas riding on the mower with him at a job site. The boy is wearing a Hensley Landscaping T-shirt that's too big. Three generations on a mower. I saved the photo.

My back was tight after the wood-splitting Saturday. Took an Aleve. Slept eight hours. Got up.

Connie made jam Saturday afternoon. Wild blackberries from the patch up the hollow. Twelve jars. The pantry is filling for winter.

Connie cut my hair on the porch Tuesday afternoon. She has been cutting my hair for forty years. The barber in Pineville cannot do what Connie does, which is also love.

I sat on the porch with bourbon at sundown Friday. The fog rolled into the hollow the way it has every fog of every year. The porch was the porch. The bourbon was the bourbon.

Worked on a basement remodel job in Lexington. The work was good. The pay was good. The body is tired.

Read the paper at breakfast Tuesday. The county news is not great. The mines have not come back and they will not come back. The young people leave. The hollows empty. We stay.

Drove to Pineville for parts Wednesday. The hardware store man knew me. We talked about the weather and the price of feed. Forty minutes for a five-minute errand. That is rural Kentucky.

The neighbor up the road — Old Roy, eighty-seven, lives alone — had a small heart scare. We took him soup beans Tuesday. Cornbread too. He cried a little when he ate. We all cry over soup beans eventually.

I split a half-cord of wood Saturday. Slowly. The back does not let me work fast anymore. It got done. The wood was for the smokehouse.

Drove the truck to the dump Saturday afternoon. Saw three deer crossing the road on the way back. The mountains have been giving back this year.

Amber sent the kids' school photos this week. Nadia is taller every year. Marcus has Amber's serious face. Little Betty has Mama's eyes.

I sat at the kitchen table Tuesday night working on the recipe project. Mama's soup beans. I cannot get the words right yet.

I checked the truck oil Saturday. The mileage on this truck is criminal.

Connie read aloud from a novel Tuesday evening while I worked on the bench. Some Appalachian writer she had picked up at the library in Whitesburg. The voice was the voice of where we live. We listened together.

Connie put up twelve jars of wild blackberry jam Saturday — berries she picked herself from the patch up the hollow — and watching that pantry fill for winter is one of the quieter dignities of the life we live here. When I sat down to think about what recipe felt right for this week, it was not hard. Those blackberries earned their place on the shelf, and these cookies are a way to use what the hollow gave us, the way Mama always taught us to do: waste nothing, honor the work, and let the sweetness speak for itself.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 14 minutes | Total Time: 34 minutes (plus 30 minutes chilling) | Servings: 24 cookies

Ingredients

1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
2/3 cup powdered sugar, plus more for dusting
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon almond extract
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup blackberry jam (homemade or store-bought)

Instructions

Make the dough. Beat butter and powdered sugar together in a large bowl until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add vanilla and almond extracts and mix to combine.
Add the dry ingredients. Gradually mix in the flour and salt until a soft dough forms. Do not overwork. Wrap the dough in plastic wrap and refrigerate for at least 30 minutes.
Preheat and prep. Heat oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper.
Shape the cookies. Roll the chilled dough into 1-inch balls and place them 2 inches apart on the prepared baking sheets. Use your thumb or the back of a 1/2 teaspoon measure to press a deep well into the center of each ball.
Fill with jam. Spoon approximately 1/2 teaspoon of blackberry jam into each well, filling it nearly to the top but not overflowing.
Bake. Bake for 12—14 minutes, until the edges are just barely golden. The tops will look pale — that is correct. Do not overbake.
Cool and finish. Let the cookies rest on the baking sheet for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack. Once fully cooled, dust lightly with powdered sugar.

Nutrition (per serving)

Blackberry Peekaboo Cookies — What the Hollow Gave Us This Year