Monday is National Coffee Cake Day. Go figure.
When I hear coffee cake, my automatic word-association reflexes fly to one of my late grandmother's recipes, one that is forever linked to my grandparents' lake cabin.
Sugar Lake was a magical place in my childhood. It's practically a far-ring suburb today – it's about 10 miles south of Annandale, Minn. -- but in the pre-I-94 era the journey felt like a never-ending drive from my family's suburban Minneapolis home.
Grandma Gay had a Sugar Lake ritual, at least during blueberry season. She would alleviate her guests' car weariness by greeting them with a slice or two of what I later discovered was an easy-to-prepare buckle, still warm from the oven.
Although it came off as an extra-special treat, her blueberry buckle was cloaked in practicality, using ingredients that were always on hand at the lake; no running into town for the sour cream or other coffee-cake staples that, inevitably, end up as a shopping list afterthought.
My guess is that, after countless summers, Grandma pulled her blueberry buckle together from memory. Fortunately, in the late 1970s, my sister Cheri thought to ask Grandma for the recipe. Treasure, right? I still have the card, written using a thick Flair pen, in Cheri's tidy high-school cursive.
In honor of this momentous national holiday, I baked Grandma's buckle this morning (using frozen berries discovered in the back of my freezer, picked last summer at Rush River Produce in Maiden Rock, Wis., pictured above), and our kitchen is perfumed with the loveliest scent.
If only I could open the windows and catch the breeze off the lake.