Not too far from our house in the Auvergne, there is a spot in the forest, where wild blueberries grow. It's exact location is shared only with very good friends, lest it become too popular.The blueberries are not the big kind that you find at the produce stand in Brooklyn, but tiny ones that have infinitely more flavor. At least once during our vacation here, we grab containers, mostly two old milk cans that we keep for just this purpose, and we head off to collect 'myrtilles."
After a period of sunshine, the berries had ripened nicely and we found quite an abundance. Nevertheless, it took most of two hours of backbreaking work to fill the two cans since one has to carefully pluck the berries one by one.
But even with the resulting mosquito bites and purple hands, it was all worth it.
We had collected enough to make five pots of jam and a tarte aux myrtilles.
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