Blueberry Lemon Breakfast Cake

 

Hey, y’all.  I’m trying to bake around workmen in my kitchen and I’ve got way to much on my mind.  My cousin’s wife underwent her second surgery this morning continuing her battle with cancer.  Prayers, please.  Also, I learned earlier today that a dear, dear friend from our first college days suffered a major heart attack and is having major bypass and open heart surgery.  Both fabulous women are too young and healthy for this.  So I bake.  I listen to comfort music which, today, is Puerto Rican salsa, bomba and plena.  My mind wanders as I murmur the lyrics to the song streaming, one of my favorite songs ever, “En Mi Viejo San Juan”, In My Old San Juan.  It’s a terribly sad song but fits my mood.  I reassure myself with drifting thoughts of old neighbors who lived on my grandparent’s street close to the University of Puerto Rico.  Sonia, who lives catty-corner across the street, and hosted us for finger sandwiches and champagne.  Those were lovely afternoons spent in her gorgeous Spanish style villa laughing, gossiping and sharing our plans for the future.  Dona Angelita and Don Juan Orta lived next door to us and had Cynthia and me over for dinner often.  They were okay but the person in their household I adored was Tata, the housekeeper who was more like a servant considering the way they treated her.  I loved Tata!

She told me a story of a typical idyllic Caribbean morning which found her sweeping the Orta’s back courtyard, birds were singing and lemon yellow alamandas were in full bloom, rambling up the back wall of the cottage where she lived… she was lost in her thoughts.  Out of the blue she heard a small but happy voice from above singing and calling out, “Hiiiiii! Hiiiiii! Hiiiii!”.  Tata looked up to the second floor of our house and told me she saw two fat little hands stuck out of the window waving madly at her.  It was me.  In my crib.  And that’s when we fell in love.  She was the sweetest thing.  She always made certain I was included when all the little girls played fairies and witches.  When serving at the table, Tata always took care not to put any beans on my rice…just sauce and the only way I would eat them.   Her hugs were strong but gentle and I liked it when she sat down and allowed me to climb in her lap.  Today that gives me quiet comfort.  It’ll all be okay.  Everything will work out.  Joy comes in the morning.

 

 

 

This is a super easy breakfast cake that is truly forgiving.  Fresh or frozen blueberries may be used.  If y’all haven’t tried Costco brand frozen blueberries you’re in for a treat.  They’re harvested in Canada and they’re just like the blueberries you find in Maine… small, juicy nuggets bursting with fresh flavor.