Edition: U.S. / Global

Three Cheers for the Red, White and Blueberry

Published: July 2, 2003

THIS Friday may not be the nation's greatest gastronomic moment. The Fourth of July tends to be a day when culinary ambition takes a sharp turn, when Americans home in on the relaxed, unpretentious fare they are known for, and that almost everyone, even a repressed cook, knows how to do. It takes no special skill to lay burgers on a grill and stand by drinking beer, and so what? It's fun.

Yet there are plenty of people out there who will shave their own coleslaw, squeeze lemons for their lemonade and carefully arrange the glowing coals on their grills for a night of smoke-braising meat. This is because, unlike Thanksgiving, which involves dishes that we cook only once a year, the Fourth of July is an occasion for simple picnic food, only ramped up a bit. As a food writer, I am, of course, most interested in those fanatics carving their watermelons and obsessing over the viscosity of their barbecue sauces.

So I would like to direct their attention to a less celebrated Fourth of July standby, the blueberry. It has the rare quality of being indigenous to America and, conveniently, it is coming into season just in time for the holiday, and just in time for dessert.

In North America, the blueberry bush can survive harsh winters, and in the summer it gives us -- and deer -- a berry that is fat, like a doughnut, with a dusty blue skin and a stiff ruffled cap. There is not much subtle or delicate about it: the blueberry is sturdy, filling and not too sweet. A fruit made for rugged capitalists.

Almost everyone knows what to do with blueberries. You can fold them into muffins, douse them with sweet cream, blend them into ice cream or simply, and most commonly, put them on a bowl of cereal. But none of these quite capture or distill the berry's sweetness like the blueberry pie.

Memories of some blueberry pies may refute that point. There are always plenty of bad examples. The ones with gluey centers (too much cornstarch), tasteless dough (not enough salt or sweet butter) or gritty berries (using up old fruit rather than the good stuff). But history in the kitchen can always be mended.

Blueberries are the ideal fruit for pies. While other berries melt and fall apart when heat is applied, the blueberry puffs up and stiffens, and if the heat is steady, they sometimes pop and wilt, never dissolving, just losing shape like a dead tire. Heat cooks off some of their moisture and intensifies their flavor. Blueberries don't have a ton of juice, and this makes them easier to handle. All you need is a little flour or cornstarch to thicken the juices and help hold the fruit together just long enough to go from slicing to a plate.

The cook's job is to provide the blueberries with a good crust and a hot oven. The crust is worth a few minutes of consideration.

Cultivated blueberries do not have a great deal of acidity, so placing them between a heavy shortening crust will only weaken their character. I found that a butter crust, only lightly sweetened, worked best. This crust is not flaky but is delicate with a richness that comes through more in flavor than in heft.

The crust, whether you are making a traditional pie with cooked blueberries or a tart topped with the fresh fruit, is also a good place to infuse background aromas. Blueberries, lovable though they may be, are fairly one dimensional in flavor.

In a classic pie, I grated lemon zest and folded it into the sweet pastry. For a tart with a pastry cream filling, I added ground almonds and a splash of almond extract to the dough. And in another, I mixed in a dash of cornmeal and scraped in the seeds and pulp from a vanilla bean. The idea is to add a little fragrance, something that will merely seep into your consciousness as you eat the dessert.

It is important to add salt to the pastry to underline these aromas and to be light on the sugar, so that the pastry does not disappear against the filling. And when you bake the pie, place it on a rack near to the floor of the oven, so that the bottom bakes through and does not become gummy.

Making pies in the summertime can be a tricky business. Heat torments pastry, making it stick and split with the faintest encouragement. The way to avoid this is to keep the pastry cold and to handle it as little as possible. If you have air-conditioning, turn it on high and cool down the kitchen. And if you don't, roll out your pastry either in the morning or late at night when it's cool. Make sure the oven is not on or it will warm the kitchen.

I roll out pastry between two layers of plastic wrap. To do this, place a layer on the counter, flour it generously, then put the dough in the center, flour it, and cover with a second layer of plastic. This way, the rolling pin never touches the dough, and the dough, pressed between plastic, splits less on the edges. Keep in mind that as you roll out the dough, you will occasionally need to peel back the plastic and reflour some parts.

This method also makes transferring the dough to the pan much easier. When the dough is thin enough for molding, simply peel back one side of the plastic, and invert the exposed dough into the pie dish or tart pan. Then peel off the other layer of plastic.