Summer Blueberry Crisp

Our dear friends were visiting last weekend and we were hosting ten for dinner.  With rainstorms threatening all afternoon, the planned grilling and dinner outdoors was not a viable option.  Back to the drawing board, I crafted a summer country supper of homemade turkey meatloaf, creamy garlic mashed potatoes, roasted carrots with dill and fresh corn on the cob.  Very cold Budweiser and a light pinot gris were perfect accompaniements.  But this menu just beckoned a scrumptious blueberry crisp - and I dragged out my favorite Maine recipe.  The key is finding wild blueberries - they have less liquid and more flavor so the crisp is never runny and the berries never overpowered by the topping.  Just make sure you make enough for everyone to have second helpings!

Blueberry Crisp

4 cups wild blueberries
1/4 cup sugar
1/2 teaspoon grated lemon rind
1 cup butter
1 cup light brown sugar
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1 teaspoon nutmeg
1 cup flour
1 cup rolled oats

Combine the blueberries, sugar and lemon rind and place in an 8"x8"x2" baking dish.  Mix the flour, brown sugar, rolled oats, cinnamon and nutmeg.  Cut in the butter (like preparing a pie crust) until all ingredients are well blended (will be quite crumbly).  Spread over the blueberries; it does not have to completly cover the berries.

Bake at 325 degrees until the topping is golden and the filling bubbles in the center, approximately 45 minutes.  Serve warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream.  Serves 8 people.

101 Gardens To See Before I Die

I'm still working on the complete list, but definitely one on my "must see" gardens was Thuya Garden & Lodge in Northeast Harbor, Maine. It only took a small fortune to secretly bribe each of my children to let me take the most delightful afternoon of our vacation to steal away for a self-indulgent day trip. Designed by notable, and self-taught, landscape designer Charles Savage, Thuya Garden offers a splendid perennial border garden in the fashion of Gertrude Jekyll's famed English gardens. Absolutely, this would be one to remember.

Through the front gate, the first evergreens I noticed were none other than two overgrown Picea glabra, Dwarf Alberta Spruce -- the same plants ubiquitous to gas station landscapes and grocery store garden sections, and most definitely the last plant I would have expected to see at Thuya.

(Note: There is not a place in the modern world for "garden critics," so as a general rule, I try not to be critical of plant selections or garden structure of other designers. Rather, I work to make myself consider more thoughtfully what the designer was trying to accomplish. I may still not like the idea, but at least I can appreciate what someone else did.)

Then, I walked on a short path to the perennial gardens. At first look, I thought the mix of colors was too intense, too varied and too unplanned. I had expected a progression of colors cool to hot, but felt a bit disappointed when a lovely mix of blues, violets and whites was missing a small taste of yellow to bring out the intensity of the palette. Instead, a ruddy orange peered between some meadow blues and creamy whites. A stand of brilliant red Monarda stood straight and tall next to a massing of steely blue Echinops ritro. Why would anyone one do that?

Taking a deep breath, I continued to walk and look. The beds are not borders, but rather very long, stand alone beds that can be viewed from all sides. Just as soon as I thought again about the missing yellow, I made a turn and my view became exactly that, a wash of yellow throughout the garden with the cooler colors just a complement. The ruddy oranges and vibrant reds were perfectly sited and gave me pause to consider the pleasure of enjoying a beautifully planted garden.

Walking back through the gardens (to the loo), I found the gardener's shed. I must confess I was struck by a strong sense of shed-envy. An old wooden wheelbarrow, tools all aligned and upright against the wall, all hidden behind the main gardens, but yet still very much a part of the garden.

Only then, and much to my surprise, I found the reason for the dense and blobby Picea glabra - a perfectly framed view (denser than a holly which might not survive the harsh winters, more compact and proportional than a larger spruce) with a tease of the perennial beds - and one that would be most often, and perhaps more appropriately, enjoyed by the gardener, not the garden visitor.