Stone Fruit Cobbler | @thefauxmartha

There were missed deadlines. Lots of flights and late bed times. Family gatherings. Dancing (if you can qualify our erratic movements as such). There were hamburgers, chips, and watermelon. Mouthfuls of salty water. Tiny feet splashing in waves. And wine. Plenty of wine. We lived this summer. So much so, I think our new neighbors thought this was our winter home, which is funny because we live in Minnesota. You don’t dare leave the state come summer. TSA enforced. Read more

My mom is the first to say she doesn’t like to bake. I’m still not sure where my love obsession came from. Somehow my sister picked up the habit too—proof. But despite my mom’s distaste for baking, she makes a mean cobbler. In the summers it’s filled with the ripest of peaches. And through the winters it’s filled with the blackest of blackberries. Always topped with ice cream of course. This tastes like home to me. Read more

 
 
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