Blueberry Buckle — The Kitchen That Holds

The lake was doing what the lake does this week: changing color hourly, sometimes by the minute, the way grief does. Iron gray at dawn. Steel blue by ten. Almost green by noon when the sun broke through. Pewter again by four. Black by six. I walked the lakefront with Sven on Tuesday and Wednesday and Thursday and Saturday, and the lake was different every time, and the lake was the same every time, and both things are how it works. Jakob (Anna's middle, recently graduated) has a job. He hates the job. He is figuring it out. He called me Tuesday for advice. I told him: that is what your twenties are for. The first job is supposed to be unsatisfying. The first job teaches you what you do not want. He said, "Grandma, that is not super helpful." I said, "It is the truth. Helpful is not always the same as comforting." He laughed. He hung up. He kept the job for now. He will figure it out. Lena (Anna's youngest, college freshman) is in college now. She calls me sometimes. The calls are about boys, mostly. I listen. I do not give advice. I am eighteen-year-old's grandmother. My credibility on boys is suspect at best. I tell her the kinds of things a grandmother is supposed to tell her: be careful, be brave, trust your gut, do not date the one who reminds you of someone you do not like. She thinks I am wise. I am, in fact, just old. The two get confused sometimes in the right direction. I cooked Mushroom and barley soup this week. Cremini and shiitake, barley, onion, beef stock, thyme, a splash of sherry. Earthy and dark. Thursday: soup. Always soup. Gerald said, "You are the most reliable woman in Duluth." I said, "I am the most reliable woman in this kitchen." He said, "Same thing." I do not think that is the same thing. I think that is a kindness Gerald gives me because Gerald is kind. I take the kindness. I do not argue. I lit a candle in the kitchen for no particular reason. Maybe for Mamma. Maybe for Pappa. Maybe for Lars. Maybe for Paul. Maybe for all of them. The candle is a tall white tapered one, set in a brass holder Mamma had on her dining room table for forty years. I let it burn down. The dripping wax made a small white pool on the brass. I cleaned it off. I lit another one the next night. It is enough. It has to be. And on a morning like this, with the lake doing what the lake does and the dog at my feet and the bread on the counter and the kitchen warm enough to live in, it is. I have learned, slowly, that there is a kind of competence that comes only with age. Not wisdom, exactly — wisdom is a word too grand for what I mean. Competence. The competence of having watched many things go wrong and many things go right and having developed an internal database of which is which. The competence is, perhaps, the only thing that improves with age in a body that is otherwise declining. I will take the trade. It is enough.

The soup came first, as it always does on a Thursday — but by Friday morning, with the candle burned low and the brass holder cleaned and reset, I wanted something that would fill the kitchen with a different kind of warmth, something sweet and slow and golden while the lake went about its business outside. A blueberry buckle is not a complicated thing. That is precisely why I made it. The crumble on top, the soft give of the berries underneath — it is the kind of baking that asks very little of you and gives a great deal back, which is, I have decided, a quality I am actively seeking in most things right now.

Blueberry Buckle

Prep Time: 15 min | Cook Time: 45 min | Total Time: 1 hr | Servings: 9

Ingredients

• Crumble Topping
• 1/3 cup all-purpose flour
• 1/3 cup granulated sugar
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon fine sea salt
• 3 tablespoons cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes
• Buckle Batter
• 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 1/2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon fine sea salt
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 6 tablespoons unsalted butter, softened to room temperature
• 3/4 cup granulated sugar
• 1 large egg, at room temperature
• 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• 1/2 cup whole milk, at room temperature
• 2 cups fresh blueberries (about 10 oz), rinsed and dried

Instructions

1. Heat the oven. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Grease an 8-inch square baking pan with butter and dust lightly with flour, or line with parchment paper.
2. Make the crumble topping. In a small bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, cinnamon, and salt. Add the cold butter cubes and work them in with your fingertips until the mixture resembles coarse, clumpy sand. Refrigerate the topping while you make the batter.
3. Mix the dry ingredients. In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, salt, and cinnamon. Set aside.
4. Cream butter and sugar. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter and sugar together with a hand mixer on medium-high speed until pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Add the egg and vanilla and beat until fully combined, scraping down the sides of the bowl as needed.
5. Combine wet and dry. Reduce mixer speed to low. Add the flour mixture in three additions, alternating with the milk (begin and end with flour), mixing just until each addition disappears. Do not overmix.
6. Fold in the berries. Gently fold the blueberries into the batter with a rubber spatula, taking care not to crush them. Spread the batter evenly into the prepared pan.
7. Add the crumble and bake. Remove the topping from the refrigerator and scatter it evenly over the surface of the batter. Bake for 40–45 minutes, until the top is golden and a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean.
8. Cool and serve. Let the buckle cool in the pan on a wire rack for at least 15 minutes before cutting. Serve warm or at room temperature. Keeps well, covered, at room temperature for up to 2 days.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 310 | Protein: 4g | Fat: 12g | Carbs: 48g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 210mg