Blueberry Pie Blue Sapphire & Diamond Necklace

Blueberry Pie
and the Scottish Grandmother

The center of my focus in time is age 4-8, 1953-1957. I had a red-headed, pure-blooded Scottish grandmother who had an ocean front cottage on a white sand beach here in Maine. My early childhood was like growing up in the Scottish Highlands on the ocean. The beach was a mile long. On the southern end were cliffs and hiking trails, on the northern end was a tidal river and blueberry hill.

In July and August my red-headed grandmother would cross the river at low tide and climb blueberry hill to gather blueberries every five days to make two pies, blueberry muffins, and blueberries to put on all-bran cereal in the morning. Her summer cottage had an alleyway kitchen, the alley was 36” wide and 7’ long, sink at the end with a window that looked out onto blueberry hill, an electric stove on the right, a small refrigerator on the left. Her fancy dishes were green depression-era glass bowls, cups, and plates. All meals were served on green glassware.

On the corner at the right entrance to the alleyway kitchen, was a five-foot high, pumpkin-colored, pine varnished 24” wall with a large clear cut glass bowl on top filled with bananas. The bananas were important because they filled the cottage with a banana aroma. The bananas were always ripening to be ready to make banana nut bread. The banana smell is partly to set the scene for the kitchen and cottage, as the place to bake blueberry pies and blueberry muffins.

The blueberries were wild, came from blueberry hill, and were in season for five weeks July into August. My grandmother would walk to the end of the beach, cross the river at low tide, and climb the hill. She had an hour and a half to pick. She would bring aluminum pots from the kitchen to fill with blueberries, I remember going with her on at least 3 occasions. I would pick and eat. I remember her trying to explain the concept of gathering and saving for the pies and muffins. The pie argument I could almost grasp, muffins not at all. I ate the berries I picked. I didn’t get invited back to go picking too many times.

Because the alleyway kitchen was narrow, I remember seeing her from the living room, back-to and side-to, making preparations and cooking. There was always flour and eggs, sugar and lard, and the rolling pin to flatten it all.  There were tin plate dishes to be filled with rolled crust, bottoms laid out, the filler, then tops added with pinched edges. Then there was the smell of bananas and the emerging smell of blueberries cooking.

The blueberry pie was something I looked forward to. Sitting out on the closed in porch, age 4, age 5 – feet not yet swinging, not yet touching the floor. The pie was warm, on a green glass plate, a stainless-steel fork, blueberries blue and purple, steaming, the crust warm on top light tan-brown, the back edge thin pinched pattern. The under-crust moist, soft, saturated with blueberry juice, it was my favorite.

The red-headed grandmother was of the paternal lineage. My mother claimed my grandmother’s crust was the best anyone made. The redhead never shared her recipe with anyone. Nothing I can say can begin to express what that blueberry pie right out of the oven on a green glass plate tasted like. Words don’t capture or communicate flavor. Even today, 60+ years later all I can say is I have ordered a slice of Maine blueberry pie at the end of meals over a hundred times, and never once approached the taste, flavor, aroma of one of my grandmother’s blueberry pies.

I believe aspects of that taste were hand-picked berries, attention of tide and time, a small beach kitchen, the aroma of bananas permeating the cottage. Pre-teen taste buds and an acute sense of smell at youth, green glass dishes, and some measure of love that was baked into the crust, all were part of the magic. No one, no one in over half a century has come close to the experience of a 1950s Eva Pride blueberry pie.

Here is a call out. We have a bakery in Portland called Two Fat Cats. I’ll call their very berry pie with blueberries, strawberries, blackberries and raspberries 33% as good as my red-headed grandmother’s blueberry pie. Their crust is good, and the mix of berries is a symphony of flavors that play with the mind, heart, and soul. It’s a good pie.

I miss my red-headed grandmother and her blueberry pie, hot out of the oven, served on a green glass dish with a tall, cold glass of white milk.

Blueberry Pie Necklace

A circle of blue sapphires, yes blue, surrounded with the brilliance of white diamonds, a brilliance of taste or the sparkle of sips of cold white milk. Set in white gold. You can seriously consider owning this piece because you have a serious passion for blueberry pie and/or the deeper reason to consider this is because it is simply beautiful. We started with the Red Berry Christmas Wreath necklace set with red Burma rubies. They were popular winners. Our partner who makes this piece for us also made it with dark blue sapphires – we wouldn’t buy it because they didn’t sparkle correctly. For three years they tried making it with lighter, brighter blue sapphires. Finally, in year three they mastered the color shade of blue. We’d say they have achieved the proper flavor of blue – just the right taste.

The Blueberry Pie necklace – 14K white gold circle like a pie, 10 blue sapphires (meeting our brightness standards) approximate total weight .33 carat. Then each blueberry sapphire is surrounded with tiny white brilliant diamonds, total number of diamonds 87, approximate total weight .27 carat. All suspended from an 18” chain, leaves the necklace 2” from your heart.

Our 100% absolute guarantee – our Blueberry Pie necklace will not stain even on the hottest days of summer.