So my mom inherited this cranberry bread mix and a bunch of frozen berries in a bag; thinking they were, naturally enough, cranberries, she defrosted them in the fridge. Where the bag leaked and left a dark, ominously blood-like puddle on the terracotta tile floor, which she cleaned up, after she got over the horror of it and realized it was in fact not blood.
So tonight she calls me down to give her a hand with baking the thing, asking if I'll chop the cranberries for her. This would have been fine, except opening the bag up I discover they are in fact blueberries. Which is actually far nicer than cranberries, in both our opinions, so that's all good.
So, since the thing had leaked earlier, she had stuffed the bag in a mixing bowl before she had put it back in the fridge. And at the bottom of the bowl was a whole bunch of blueberry juice.
The mix called for a half cup water. Well, I reasoned, we both like blueberries. Why not make it even more blueberrilicious by using the juice instead of just water?
Well that might sound like a plan. However, there are a couple of things to remember about blueberry juice:
One, it's very highly colored, meaning, it is very very very strongly blue-purple.
And two, well, really there is no two. One is enough. Trust me.
So when I mixed it into the batter it turned a very shocking thick greyish lavender. (Alas, I did not think to get a picture of it.) It really was quite an unusual color; not at all what one would think fit to eat.
But so what? I mean, it's just a color, right?
Well, now, see, the thing with baking is that things tend to turn kind of yellowish; I don't know if it's just the sugars browning, or if it's the yellow in the egg, but, well, do you remember, children, what happens when you mix blue and yellow?
That's right; you get green.
Which isn't to say it wasn't perfectly yummy, in a Dr. Seussian sort of way. But still. It's kinda horrific, don't you think?
6 comments:
I like it very much.
Since I'm off sugar and gluten, this does not entice me to go running back to the pastry shack.
What is it? Besides green and blueberry? And interesting?
And you and your mom cooking? Together? In a kitchen? Has Hell frozen over and no one's bothered to send me a memo??
Wait. How does one inherit food? That sound downright hinky right there...
Oh it was one of those feed the impoverished senior citizen town-sponsored brown bag things, I just didn't want to say that. So they gave her (among other things) a cranberry bread mix and a bag of frozen berries.
And no, we didn't actually cook together; basically I took over (like I usually do) for the safety of everyone involved and she just hung out.
And now I want to open a bakery and call it The Pastry Shack.
The Pastry Shack. That's a giggle. But, yuck, people.
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