This past Sunday, I was hawking hummus (Sound Bites Sauce & Spread Co.) at the Lake Forest Park Farmers Market. For most of the afternoon I was stuck within the four corners of the tent, sampling crackers and spreads, chatting with market goers, and looking longingly at the local products within eyesight. When I had a moment to break away, I jumped over to the Hayton Farms tent and inquired about the freshly picked blueberries. The vendor gave me the price; I nodded, and scurried back to my tent.

Towards the end of the market, the blueberry peddler snuck over to steal a few bites of hummus and before long she returned with a half flat of blueberries… “Want to trade?” Absolutely! I left the market with six pints of luscious purple berries.

How was I going to use up six pints of blueberries? I got to work brainstorming a list: blueberry sage halibut, blueberry cinnamon rolls, blueberry spritzer, blueberry crisp, blueberry smoothie, blueberry jam. I eventually settled on the cinnamon rolls, crisp, and the jam.

The filling in the blueberry cinnamon rolls (recipe found here) was a concoction of butter, Marilyn’s cinnamon walnut pecan nut butter, brown sugar, and whole blueberries. It a long process with the rise of the dough and the bake, but it was well worth the wait.

On Monday night, we had an out-of-town friend over for dinner. My husband crafted his infamous Spaghetti and Seafood and I was left in charge of dessert. I topped blueberries, sugar, and lemon juice with a crumbly mixture of brown sugar, flour, oatmeal, and butter (classic blueberry crisp). Fresh out the oven, I served the sweet dessert with French vanilla ice cream.

I nibbled on a few for a snack and sprinkled some on my cereal, but I still had three pints of plump berries left at the end of the week. I bought cute little mason jars and decided to make a no fuss freezer jam with sugar, pectin, lemon juice, and crushed blueberries. The finished product was sweet and tangy, the perfect accompaniment to freshly baked drop biscuits.

I was in blueberry heaven for less a week, but I plan to guard the jars of jam as a reminder of the mid-summer long after it is gone.