This cake took at least eight hours to make. Here's how it came about.
First things first. I firmly believe that everyone is strange once you get to know them. But, there may be something extra quirky about my family. For instance, here's a picture of the matriarch and patriarch of my mom's side with glowsticks in their glasses. Is this the type of thing that all people in their eighties who have been married for sixty plus years do? Or is there something extra quirky and endearing about these two? I suspect the latter.
Michael and I recently got to spend over a week with my immediate family in Colorado. Toward the beginning of our time in Colorado, we were four wheeling when my mom spotted raspberries. She yelled, my dad hit the brakes and pulled over, and we all stuffed our faces.
"Stuffed our faces" isn't quite accurate. The berries were tiny and it took some work to get a small handful. I really have no idea how bears get so chubby eating mostly this kind of stuff.
Shortly thereafter, the gathering continued when we spent a day in the mountains with my glowstick-in-the-glasses grandparents. Turns out my grandpa has been a mushroomer for the past few years, a fact that made Michael happy given the little shroom farm he once grew.
We picked quite a few pounds of mushrooms and Grandpa decided he wasn't certain enough that they were safe (we weren't going to eat them anyway) so we threw them away. A few days later, we found out that they were safe and a man the family knows sells them for over $20 per pound at farmers' markets. Woops!
Then, we went backpacking for a few days and my mom found minuscule purple and red berries which she started eating and swore were safe. I didn't believe her at first, but then caved and ate a bunch. No one got sick.
Someone got the crazy idea of making a cake using only these berries (which we later found out are called Myrtle Blueberries). So, we picked and picked and picked.
Dad on all fours:
Andrea prowling through the trees:
These berries were so tiny and difficult to pick, they became a precious commodity. Here's Michael's reaction to losing one:
The fruit of two man hours of berry picking:
Ultimately, we got a decent amount of Myrtle Blueberries, supplemented them with more wild raspberries we found while driving home, and baked this cake.
Before baking:
After baking:
So, are we quirky? Are we strange? Yes. But, I love it!
