I have a confession to make, and I realize it may get me kicked out of the food-blogging community.
I don’t particularly like fresh blueberries.
There. I said it.
I know blueberries are supposed to be wonderful. They’re cute. They’re nutritious. They’re packed with antioxidants. They show up in muffins wearing little blueberry tuxedos and somehow convince everyone they’re the sophisticated fruit.
I’m not buying it.
But I have a daughter who loves blueberries.
She also loves pie.
And, because apparently she has learned how to weaponize the mother-daughter bond, she had been begging me to make a blueberry pie.
So I did what any loving mother would do.
I surrendered.
Enter Abby’s Blueberry Pie
Abby’s Blueberry Pie from the Kitchn is basically exactly the kind of recipe I like.
It’s simple.
It’s short.
It doesn’t require seventeen bowls, three specialty ingredients, a pastry degree, or an emotional-support bottle of wine.
You need blueberries, sugar, water, cornstarch, lemon juice, butter, cinnamon, and a pre-baked pie crust.
That’s it.
Bless.
The recipe has you cook two cups of the blueberries with the sugar, water, cornstarch, and cinnamon until everything thickens into a glossy, jammy filling. Then you let it cool, add the lemon juice and butter, stir in the remaining blueberries, and dump the whole beautiful mess into the crust.
I appreciate a recipe that understands my time is valuable.
Or, more accurately, that I would rather spend that time doing literally anything else.
The Jammy Filling Was the Star
Here’s where things got complicated.
The cooked blueberry filling?
Fantastic.
I was actually sitting there thinking, Oh. Maybe I’ve been wrong about blueberries.
The blueberries cook down into a thick, sweet, almost jam-like filling that’s tart enough from the lemon juice to keep things from getting cloying. The cinnamon adds a little warmth without turning the pie into blueberry candle territory.
And let me tell you, this stuff would be phenomenal on a scone.
Or toast.
Or a biscuit.
Or possibly eaten directly from the refrigerator at midnight while standing in front of the open door like a raccoon with a mortgage.
I could get behind that.
And Then the Fresh Blueberries Ruined Everything
Well, “ruined” may be dramatic.
My family would like me to clarify that the pie was not ruined.
They loved it.
My daughter especially loved it.
But then I remembered the recipe wasn’t finished torturing me.
Because you’re supposed to stir two additional cups of fresh blueberries into that gorgeous cooked filling.
Fresh blueberries.
The very thing I had been trying to avoid.
Le sigh.
I understand the logic. The cooked berries provide the thick, jammy filling while the fresh berries add texture and a brighter blueberry flavor. If you are a normal person who enjoys blueberries, this is probably fantastic.
Unfortunately, I am not that person.
I wanted the blueberry jam.
The blueberry jam and I understood each other.
We had a future together.
Then two cups of fresh blueberries showed up and ruined the relationship.
My Family, Naturally, Had No Complaints
My daughter loved the pie.
My family loved the pie.
There was no dramatic courtroom scene in which everyone was forced to testify about the offensive presence of fresh blueberries.
Apparently, I was the problem.
Which, honestly, is not the first time I’ve reached this conclusion.
The crust worked nicely with the filling, and the combination of cooked and fresh berries gave the pie a nice contrast. It was sweet without being ridiculous, and the lemon kept the filling from tasting flat.
So while I personally would have preferred a pie consisting entirely of that cooked blueberry filling, I recognize that this is probably considered more of a blueberry pudding situation than a blueberry pie.
And apparently society has rules.
The Easiest Part? The Recipe
One of my favorite things about Abby’s recipe is that it doesn’t make blueberry pie seem like some monumental culinary undertaking.
You don’t have to make a complicated filling.
You don’t have to babysit it for an hour.
You don’t have to make homemade pastry unless you want to.
You basically cook some blueberries until they’re thick, let them cool, add the rest, and put everything into a pre-baked crust.
This is my kind of baking.
I want my desserts to taste like I worked harder than I actually did.
It’s not laziness.
It’s efficiency.
There is a difference, and I will be accepting no questions at this time.
Would I Make It Again?
For myself?
Probably not.
For my daughter?
Absolutely.
And that’s really the best endorsement I can give this recipe.
I’m not the target demographic for fresh blueberry pie. I was basically an undercover agent at my own dessert table. But even I thought the cooked blueberry filling was delicious, and everyone else happily ate the finished pie.
If you love blueberries, especially if you enjoy the combination of jammy cooked fruit and fresh berries, I think this is a great easy blueberry pie recipe to have in your arsenal.
If you’re like me and think fresh blueberries are merely tolerable but cooked blueberries are where the magic happens, you may find yourself picking around the fresh berries like you’re searching for diamonds.
The Verdict
Abby’s Blueberry Pie: 8/10 from the household.
From me personally: 5/10, with the cooked filling receiving a solid 10/10.
The recipe is easy. The ingredients are straightforward. The filling is delicious. The finished pie is pretty, summery, and apparently extremely popular with people who aren’t me.
And most importantly, my daughter finally got the blueberry pie she had been begging for.
So I consider this a parenting win.
Even if I had to eat fresh blueberries to achieve it.
Sometimes motherhood is sacrifice.
Sometimes motherhood is making a pie you don’t particularly want because your kid loves it.
And sometimes motherhood is staring lovingly at the leftover blueberry filling and wondering whether anyone would notice if you put it on a scone and called it breakfast.
I know which version I’m choosing.
