The tomato seedlings went into the ground Saturday, the eighteenth day after last frost, which is my traditional date. The Cherokee Purple, the Aunt Ruby's German Green, and eight Brandywines — twenty seedlings in all, in two rows, each with a cage and a deep planting hole amended with compost. The first tomato planting always takes a morning and is done with some ceremony, not the ceremony of ritual exactly but the ceremony of attention — each plant handled carefully, the roots spread properly, the soil firmed and watered. By noon they were in and I stood at the end of the row and felt the satisfaction of something committed to the ground that will not be moved.
The asparagus bed is producing steadily — I have been cutting every day this week, four to eight spears depending on what the bed offers, and eating them every way: roasted with parmesan, in a frittata, cold in a salad with the lemon vinaigrette Helen used to make, simply steamed and eaten at the counter. The asparagus season lasts six weeks if I do not overtax the bed, which means not cutting after the end of May and letting the ferns develop all summer to feed the roots for next year. I have learned over twenty-seven years with this bed to treat it as a renewable resource, which means restraint and patience and the acceptance that the season ends when it ends.
Carol has Finn's birthday gift request relayed through Sarah: he wants a cooking lesson from Grampa. Specifically, he wants to learn to make scrambled eggs the proper way, which apparently he told his mother he had been thinking about for six months. He is turning eight in May. I was moved by this in a way I did not expect — not surprised, because I have watched the cooking look in him since Thanksgiving, but moved. There is something about a child choosing a lesson over a toy that says something about who they are becoming. I told Sarah I would do the scrambled egg lesson when they came for the summer visit and that I had a few ideas about how to make it memorable. She said that was all he had asked for and she thought that was the right answer.
With Finn’s birthday visit on the horizon and the garden already asking something of me every morning, I found myself wanting to bake something that had that same quality as the asparagus season — honest, unhurried, and worth doing properly. These blueberry oatmeal cookies are the kind of thing I can have ready on the counter when Sarah’s car pulls in the driveway, something that says the same thing the seedlings in the ground say: that attention was paid, that someone was thinking ahead. And if Finn wants a cooking lesson, well, measuring oats and folding in blueberries is not a bad place to start.
Blueberry Oatmeal Cookies
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 12 minutes | Total Time: 27 minutes | Servings: 24 cookies
Ingredients
- 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, softened
- 3/4 cup granulated sugar
- 3/4 cup packed brown sugar
- 2 large eggs
- 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
- 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
- 1 teaspoon baking soda
- 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
- 1/2 teaspoon salt
- 3 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
- 1 1/2 cups fresh or frozen blueberries (if frozen, do not thaw)
Instructions
- Preheat oven. Heat your oven to 350°F. Line two baking sheets with parchment paper and set aside.
- Cream butter and sugars. In a large bowl, beat the softened butter with both sugars on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed.
- Add eggs and vanilla. Beat in the eggs one at a time, then stir in the vanilla extract until fully combined.
- Combine dry ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, cinnamon, and salt. Gradually add the dry ingredients to the butter mixture, stirring just until incorporated — do not overmix.
- Fold in oats and blueberries. Stir in the rolled oats until evenly distributed, then gently fold in the blueberries with a rubber spatula, taking care not to crush them.
- Portion the dough. Drop rounded tablespoons of dough onto the prepared baking sheets, spacing them about 2 inches apart. Press each mound slightly to flatten.
- Bake. Bake for 11 to 13 minutes, until the edges are set and lightly golden. The centers will look slightly underdone — that is correct; they will firm as they cool.
- Cool. Let the cookies rest on the baking sheet for 5 minutes before transferring to a wire rack to cool completely. Store in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 4 days.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 185 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 8g | Carbs: 26g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 105mg