Blueberry Pie Takes Me Back
Today’s recipe is a simple little blueberry pie made with our blueberry pie filling. Easy, cozy, and very winter. And somehow, blueberry pie always brings me back.
Winter Meals & Familiar Rhythms
Winter meals growing up were familiar and comforting. Meat and potatoes were staples. Soups, stews, and chili showed up often. There was reassurance in that rhythm, not just in what we ate, but in knowing meals were always thoughtfully prepared and waiting for us.
Dessert was always a treat. Something we looked forward to. And it was always gobbled up.
Blueberry pie, especially, takes me right back.
(Photo: Muffin Tin Blueberry Pies)
Blueberry Picking Days
Like I’ve said many times, we lived in the country, and every August meant blueberry picking just up the road from us or even in our own backyard. We went a few times each season because there were always plenty of berries. Mom and Dad definitely picked more than us complaining children. That part I remember clearly. I absolutely dreaded it. Truly dreaded it. The ants. The heat.
And one year, my brother and I even spotted a snake, which I still remember far too clearly and have not emotionally recovered from. At the time, it felt like child labour at its finest. My dad, of course, brushed it off. No big deal. The next time we went, I wore tall rubber boots in the heat of the woods. No snake was going to get me.
Funny enough, all of that picking turned into one of my very first entrepreneurial endeavours. I would pick blueberries by the pint and sell them at the end of our driveway for $2 a pint so we could have spending money for the fair at Old Home Week.
What We Did With The Berries
Most of those blueberries didn’t get eaten right away. We froze a lot of them, big bags tucked away for winter. Mom used them for jams and desserts, and oh, her blueberry cake and muffins were deelish. She also made blueberry dumplings, what we knew as blueberry grunt, a classic Nova Scotian dessert. The kind that simmered on the stove and filled the house with a warm, sweet smell that made winter feel softer.
At the time, it just felt like life. Now I see it as care, planning, and love stretched across seasons.
Blueberry Pie, Then & Now
Blueberry pie is one of my favourite desserts of all time. And like so many things growing up, I took my mom’s blueberry pie completely for granted until I didn’t have it anymore. Funny how something so consistent and lovingly made becomes meaningful in a whole new way later on.
I still remember a stretch when the blueberry pie at Blue Mussel Café came in a very close second. We ordered it every single time. It’s not there anymore now, which still makes me a little sad.
And if anyone happens to have even a tiny bit of influence over bringing that pie back… well, that would be absolutely jam-azing.
(Photo: Blueberry Pie from Blue Mussel Cafe)
Nourishment Without Needing a Name
Looking back, food was something I didn’t question then. Not because it lacked care, but because there was so much of it. Organic wasn’t part of the vocabulary, and takeout wasn’t a regular thing. But nourishment absolutely was. I just didn’t understand at the time how much work and thought that took.
Dessert Was Simply Part Of It
Because of the way Mom cooked and prepared for us, dessert was simply part of the rhythm of our meals. Sometimes it was blueberry grunt. Sometimes it was pie. Sometimes it was whatever she already had made. With a cold room and freezer stocked, and jars always being filled, there was usually something ready after supper.
Applesauce. Poached apples. Cake. Puddings. And sometimes even Jell-O, when it felt like Mom went a little rogue.
And oh, the rhubarb sauce. Always packed into those little orange Tupperware containers. I very clearly remember throwing it over the neighbour’s fence one day after school. Not my favourite, but still part of being looked after.
The Gift I See Now
Meals were home-cooked, thoughtful, and steady. And somehow, despite my mom working much of my childhood, dinner was always on the table when Dad came home around 5:30. Every night.
That, I understand now, was a real gift.
A Little Ease In The Kitchen
Truthfully, I usually love making things from scratch. But sometimes, it’s just not possible. And I’ve learned that ease has a place in the kitchen too. This recipe works because it keeps things simple. Two pie crusts. One jar of our blueberry pie filling. And just like that, dessert is served. Add a scoop of vanilla ice cream for à la mode and you’ve got something cozy and comforting without spending the whole afternoon baking.
(And honestly, no one needs to know how easy it was.)
It’s the kind of shortcut I feel good about. And it works just as beautifully with our other pie filling flavours, depending on what you’re craving.
What I Carry With Me
What I learned watching my mom cook, prepare, and feed us is something I still carry with me. Cooking was her way of showing love. Nourishment didn’t need explanation. Being prepared for others mattered.
Those lessons still guide how I cook today. And they still bring me back, every single time.
Lots of love,
Marsha
