We huckleberry hounds take the sport of huckleberrying very seriously. (By the way, the "sport" includes every aspect, including the hunt, the preservation, the prepartion, the consumption and -- grudgingly -- the sharing.) Take this recent email to my co-workers, for example:
Subject line: Cheesecake!
And not just any cheesecake, my lucky co-workers. This is homemade Lindy’s-style cheesecake with huckleberry topping! Yes, finally, and after much cajoling and entreating on your part, I have been persuaded to bring you all an indulgence made with real, hand-picked-from-the-Idaho-forests huckleberries.
The cheesecake is chilling in the fridge and will be ready for consumption by lunch time!
A word of caution: Please understand that huckleberry aficionados like me can be easily offended if, when they share their purple gold, the recipients do not simply RAVE about the superiority of huckleberry flavor. We spend countless hours in the mountains hunting down these precious beauties, after all. So even if you do have inferior-quality taste buds and do not think huckleberries are the world’s most amazing berry, and favored by the gods, you’d darn well better convince me otherwise, or you will be cut off from future huckleberry offerings for all time. No forgiving. No forgetting.
I have bcc’d certain members of my family, and at a moment’s notice they can be called upon to give you examples of how friends, neighbors and even in-laws have been “black-listed” from ever again receiving so much as a single huckleberry. Even the most innocuous-sounding comments such as, “Hmm. Not bad.” or “These are pretty good.” can land you on that dreaded list. Tread carefully; you have been warned.
Now, enjoy!
-Bruce
You see, this is a serious business, and to prove my point, I am going to call upon my family members to provide stories of their black-listed friends in the form of comments to this blog. Check back soon.
So true! My brother-in-law made comments about how Joel and I and were "ONLY huckleberrying." Said borther-in-law will never again receive so much as a huckleberry scented burp from me again.
ReplyDeleteThis from my sister Kathryn:
ReplyDeleteI don't remember blacklisting anybody for disrespecting a huckleberry (who would disrespect a huckleberry?!?) but I can tell a true story that illustrates how jealously we guard them. One day on one of our huckleberry hunts, my Aunt Pat spent hours at a particularly good patch and came home with a large bucket brimming with purple plunder. I had three young children at the time and had been busy with them all day, so I hadn't gone to pick. When I saw the wealth and wonder of my Aunt's harvest, my eyes shone, my mouth watered, and my hands formed unconsciously into scoops, perfect for dipping and popping handfuls of the plump purple beads into my salivating maw. After all, she had well over a gallon of them right there. My aunt saw me coming, however, and threw her body over the bucket. "You can have ONE!" my usually mild-mannered aunt screamed, wild-eyed. One. Keep in mind that a good-sized huckleberry is about half the size of a middlin'-sized blueberry. And I got one. But you know what? If I were in her shoes now, I would do the same thing. They're hard to find, hard to pick, and they don't go far. You can use up a quarter of your entire week's worth of work in one good pie. So stand tall, Bruce's co-workers! If he shared huckleberry anything with you, he must REALLY like you!
This from my sister Kim:
ReplyDeleteOur family invited two select, VIP local families to a special dinner with huckleberry cobbler for dessert. Both families ranted, raved, and exclaimed aloud after moments of enraptured bliss that never had they partaken of such repast before. (They were right. They hadn't, never having been initiated into the wonders of huckleberry-dom.) We were sufficiently gratified by their response so as not to demand they recycle their share of huckleberries on the spot. But even their transports of delight were not adequate to warrant that another bite of huckle-heaven yet pass the portals of their deprived lips. Huckleberries, indeed, must be carefully guarded and preserved, like the sacred treasure that they are.
There are many in my wife's family who have dared to denigrate the blessed name of huckleberry in our presence. Though we were close to these people once, I dare say that even mere pleasantries with them now is painful and forced... A particularly polarizing comment was made by my brother-in-law as he heaped what amounted to two days worth of berry-picking on his flap-jacks, "These are pretty good..." he said.
ReplyDeleteThese are pretty good?? THESE ARE PRETTY GOOD??? You sir, with one monumental failure of a comment have guaranteed yourself a spot on the Huckleberry "blacklist" to infinity and beyond. Oh, and even those around you whom feigned innocense were caught up in the collateral damage of your nuclear verbal strike. In fact, everyone in a 200 yard radius of your words have also been blotted out as potential benefactors of our berry picking.
Other comments that have guaranteed removal from future blissfull huckleberry experiences...
"I prefer Raspberries."
"What is the name of that berry you guys pick again?"
"These are just like Blueberries."
"Bury them in sugar and they aren't half bad..."
"You drive 8 hours to pick what?"
"These are too bitter."
I have decided that I shall no longer cast my pearls before swine. Unless your adolations of huckleberries border on lunacy, do not bother to even expect a sniff. And those of you who have found your way to berry outer darkeness... there is NO return.
Dan Jacobs
This from my Aunt Pat, a huckleberry pioneer:
ReplyDeleteyou are a good soul to share with your co workers... be careful; you know the saying "don't cast your pearls before[ blank blank]"
The family story is the one of your Uncle Doug at the family reunion when you were dating Christy......John was making dutch oven cobbler and all were told they needed to contribute a cup of huckleberries if they wanted any.. You and the men had gone golfing and the rest of us picked, when you and Dan had came back your women were adamant that you pick some too and they were not going to share theirs...because you had been out playing while they picked. So pick you did and then you were hooked...
But Uncle Doug and family didn't pick and true to our word they got a canned peach cobbler...a bargain was a bargain.... Huckleberries have a way of growing on you and the Huckleberry hound we become. Careful we are in sharing the harvest or where we found a good patch...
(That last line is almost Yoda-like in its wisdom, no?)