I was rushing to get out of town and was working on cleaning out the fridge. Getting rid of the perishable stuff was easy, if disheartening, but the more I dug, the more intrigued I became. Where’d all this stuff come from? I am a collector of stuff – umpteen condiments, bottles of wine, cheese, fat. Yeah, fat. I was sort of dazzled with my inventory of fats. Get this. I currently posses: unsalted regular butter, a pound of Plugra butter, salted Irish butter, a tub of “summer” butter from the farmers market, a 3lb tub of organic lard, a shortening stick tucked in the door, and the piece de resistance, a small tub of duck fat. Wow. I’m kind of impressed with myself. Why the hell do I have four kinds of butter? Between that and the 9 opened jars of jams and pickles (all my own), I am a complete nutbag. But there, way in the back, tucked behind the lard, were two pints of blueberries and raspberries. They looked a little neglected but not quite trash worthy. Yet. Usually, if I remember they’re there, I’ll throw them in the freezer. Not this time. I needed to deal with them pronto. Ahhhh … perfect subjects for my great cobbler experiment.
STRESSCAKE 