Lemon Chiffon Blueberry Dessert

The corn began its tassel push this week and the bean rows are now climbing the trellis in earnest and the second planting of lettuce is up and ready for harvest as the first planting bolts. The garden in late July is at its most layered — the early things finishing, the mid-summer things peaking, the late-summer things just beginning to think about producing. The work of a kitchen garden in late July is the work of staying ahead of all of it: the picking, the freezing, the canning, the giving away, the eating. The work is constant but the rewards are constant too, and the balance between input and output is, in this season, decidedly in the gardener's favor.

Made a tomato pie Saturday — the southern dish I have been making since the early 2010s when I came across the technique on the internet and was charmed by the basic concept of a savory tomato pie with mayonnaise and cheese on top. The pie has a single-crust shortcrust pastry, sliced tomatoes layered in (drained on paper towels first to prevent the dreaded soggy bottom), a topping of mayonnaise mixed with grated sharp cheddar and chopped basil, baked at three-fifty until the topping is golden and bubbling. The pie is very different from a New England dish and would have raised one of Helen's eyebrows had she seen me make it, but it is good in the particular way that a southern recipe can be good, and it is one of the dishes that I have added to my repertoire in widowhood that has expanded my idea of what a tomato can be in a pie crust.

Owen and his younger brother (whose name is Charlie, and who I have been remiss in mentioning in these entries because Charlie is the quieter of the two and tends to be present without being central) came over Saturday with Patricia, who had baked a peach tart from peaches she had picked at the orchard in Shoreham. Owen and Charlie ate the tart at the kitchen table and told me about the soccer summer camp they were attending and the various small dramas of a twelve-year-old and a nine-year-old who play on different teams in the same camp and who therefore have to navigate the complex politics of brotherhood and rivalry simultaneously. I listened. I asked the right questions. They left in the late afternoon and Patricia stayed for another half hour to drink coffee at the kitchen table, the kind of small additional visit that has become more frequent in the last year as our friendship has deepened from the casual neighborly version into something more substantial. We talked about the garden and about her grandsons and about Ted, who has been having some back trouble and who is trying not to let it slow him down. I told her that the trying is the right approach, until it is not, and that she would know when it stopped being the right approach. She said: I know I will. We did not need to say more.

The blueberry bushes in the corner of the yard began producing this week — the small wild lowbush variety that I planted in 1994 and that have spread into a small patch about ten feet square and that produce a few quarts of berries each year if I get to them before the birds and the chipmunks. I picked a quart Friday morning and made a pancake batter Friday afternoon and had blueberry pancakes for supper, eaten with the maple syrup from this year's grade A. The combination is one of the most reliable suppers of the year and one I never tire of. The dog watched. He got nothing. The whole supper would take five minutes to describe and a lifetime to fully appreciate.

The quart I picked Friday morning went mostly to the pancakes, but there were enough berries left over by Sunday — a generous cup and a half tumbled into a bowl on the counter — that I wanted to do something with them that honored the lemon note that wild lowbush berries always carry for me, that faint brightness that separates them from anything you buy at a store. This lemon chiffon blueberry dessert is what I made: cool and layered and light enough for a July evening, the kind of thing you can put together without much fuss and that rewards the berries rather than obscuring them.

Prep Time: 20 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 2 hours 20 minutes (includes chilling) | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 1/2 cups graham cracker crumbs
1/4 cup granulated sugar
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
1 package (3.4 oz) lemon instant pudding mix
1 1/2 cups cold whole milk
8 oz cream cheese, softened
1/2 cup powdered sugar
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon lemon zest
8 oz whipped topping (such as Cool Whip), divided
1 1/2 cups fresh blueberries, rinsed and dried
2 tablespoons blueberry jam or preserves (optional, for topping)

Instructions

Make the crust. Combine graham cracker crumbs, granulated sugar, and melted butter in a bowl and stir until the crumbs are evenly moistened. Press firmly into the bottom of a 9x13-inch baking dish. Refrigerate while you prepare the filling.
Prepare the lemon chiffon layer. Beat the softened cream cheese with the powdered sugar, lemon juice, and lemon zest until smooth and fluffy, about 2 minutes. In a separate bowl, whisk the lemon pudding mix with the cold milk for 2 minutes until thickened. Fold the pudding into the cream cheese mixture until fully combined, then fold in half of the whipped topping.
Assemble the layers. Spread the lemon chiffon filling evenly over the chilled crust. Smooth the top with a spatula.
Add the blueberry topping. If using, warm the blueberry jam briefly and fold it gently through the fresh blueberries to give them a light glaze. Scatter the blueberries evenly over the lemon layer.
Finish with whipped topping. Dollop or spread the remaining whipped topping over the blueberries, or serve it on the side so the berries remain visible.
Chill and serve. Cover and refrigerate for at least 2 hours before cutting into squares and serving cold.

Nutrition (per serving)

Lemon Chiffon Blueberry Dessert — From the Patch in the Corner of the Yard