my blue heaven is waiting to come out of the oven.
While I'm waiting for my Saturday morning breakfast of Betty Crocker muffins to be ready, I thought I'd mock the tin the "wild" blueberries come imprisoned in. There's no indication of where the blueberries come from, and they're of course joined in the tin by high fructose corn syrup.
As part of the mix, the blueberries are almost an afterthought, looking tiny even on the box artwork. I mean, it's not the flour, sugar & milk I'm excited about. Nor is it the eggs, or even the vegetable oil. It's the blueberries. (I'm fully aware this package only cost me about $3 & I should temper my expectations accordingly.)
Fortunately, back in high school I spent many days in the kitchen of Rebecca's Cafe in Boston with people how actually know how to cook, like my cousin Paul Whalen & the immortal Jim Sterling. To get the muffins even close to the consistency they did, I have to add, and I am not making this up, an additional half pint of blueberries.
Finally, I can't make blueberry muffins without thinking about this scene from Casino. EQUAL AMOUNT: