An Interlude with Officer Bumbleberry
We've had our car back from repair for a while now, although it was in the repair shop for almost five weeks -- and then had to go back, THREE TIMES, for minor glitches that we discovered little by little. But since we've had it back for good, it's really been running quite well -- despite the dire predictions of everyone we knew who had ever been in a major accident and then had their car repaired. "It'll never be the same," we were told. "There's always a hum, a vibration when you try to put on any real speed." Or "It'll shake during highway driving. The chassis will wobble -- they can never really straighten it out properly."
Maybe our friends who repaired their cars didn't have Subarus, or maybe we were just lucky, and there was no real sustained damage other than the rear bumper (which, in our accident, sheared off almost completely) and the back windows (which shattered entirely). In any case, we took off this weekend for our first real road trip since the repairs were completed. Off to Vermont we went to enjoy the spring, and escape the madness that is El Barrio during the Puerto Rican Day Parade. I love the fact that everyone in New York has their day, but trust me, you don't want to live on Mulberry Street during the Feast of San Gennaro, nor in our neighborhood on this particular weekend. We hit the open road, and our silvery little Subaru performed beautifully on the journeys up and back, even in the rainstorm that we hit on our way to Randolph after a family party in upstate NY.
The next day, we hit our usual pantry-stocking spots and laid in a few things for ourselves and some friends and loved ones. We bought good cheese and maple syrup, as well as a few baking necessities. By the time we started to head toward home, it was the middle of the day. "Do you think we can make it to the Benn before it closing?" G asked me. "I don't know," I said. "They shut down before 4:00 on Sundays, and you know how the waitresses hate it when people show up 10 minutes before closing." But we decided to take a chance, and so we headed south in order to cut over west to Bennington.
As we drove along, traffic was light. We sang a paean to the loveliness of Vermont's open highways as we sped -- quite literally -- down Interstate 91. Suddenly we caught sight of a state trooper right in the ditch by the side of the road. G slowed down, and we tooled on by. "Didn't even see him as we were coming up. That's not where they're usually hiding," he commented. "Mostly they're in those little access roads between the two sides of the highway." A moment later, the car was filled with more forceful expletives, and our rear-view mirror was filled with the flashing lights of our friend the state trooper, signaling us to pull over.
"How're you folks today?" he asked with a smile as we rolled down the window. He was young, freckly-pale and rawboned. As he removed his big trooper hat, he revealed close-cropped reddish hair. "Where you been? Where you headed?" We smiled back pleasantly and filled him on our itinerary, hoping against hope that mentioning our family up in Randolph would outweigh our NY license plates. We tried letting him know that we'd just been trying to get to the Blue Benn before closing time. "Well, folks, I don't want to hold you up, but I had you clocked going at 84," he said, with another kindly grin. "Do you think that's about right?" We sheepishly agreed that indeed we had been speeding. We watched other cars flying past us at 90, now that they saw the officer occupied with writing our outlandishly expensive speeding ticket. "I knew I should keep one of those phony pregnancy pillows in the glove compartment," I said as the officer walked back to his state troopermobile.
"Officer Goddamn Opie," G muttered as we pulled away, slowly and carefully. "Dammit, where are those launch codes?" But even knowing that our lunch at the Blue Benn had cost us dearly before we'd had a single bite, we were undeterred, and our lovely driving day unspoiled. We went, we ate, and took a slice of homemade pie and some doughnuts for the next day's breakfast with us when we left. For a while as we tooled in a somewhat more leisurely way toward home, we referred to our new trooper friend as "Officer Opie,"since the nicknames we bestow to intimates and strangers alike are a vital ingredient in our secret language.
Later, after I'd taken a car-lulled nap, I opened our slice of pie. "What flavor did you get?" G asked. "Bumbleberry," said I. "What's a bumbleberry?" After I'd explained about the mix of berries and sometimes apples that goes into this pie, we ate it, alternating bites. Then we played with the word "bumbleberry" for a while, naming various things bumbleberries, until we hit upon the very home for this moniker. "Officer Bumbleberry!" we both cried, thinking of our recent encounter. "He hid himself in the Bumbleberry Patch, and then came after us!"
I'd like to think we learned a lesson, but I'm not sure. The lure of the open road and the ability of our little car to gain speed smoothly and almost effortlessly will undoubtedly tempt us again, once the sting of this ticket fades. But in the meantime, I'm looking up recipes for Bumbleberry Pie and looking forward to the moment when enough different kinds of berries are in season all at once for us to give this lovely dessert a try. So here's to you, dear sweet friendly moneysucking Officer Bumbleberry. I think I'll name my next pie after you.
What a delightful post. I felt like I was on the trip with you! While I'm sorry you got that speeding ticket, it sounds like you made the best of the situation. Can't wait to see some bumbleberry pie on your blog!
Posted by: Ivonne | June 13, 2006 at 09:41 AM
Delightful! Enjoy life and immortilize a terrific day and trip with Officer Bumbleberry Pie. I can't wait for the pie; the trip was a joy. Glad I could come along.
Posted by: Tanna | June 13, 2006 at 01:24 PM
Hi Julie - I was just up that way too - we visited King Arthur and the Blue Benn on Thursday! We were too full for pie, but we were eyeing them before dinner. Maybe next time!
Posted by: Cathy | June 13, 2006 at 10:09 PM
Ivonne and Tanna, I'm feverishly looking for the perfect bumbleberry pie recipe. I had a consultation last night with the peerless Bakerina, and I know she'll come through with some good information.
Cathy -- What did you get at King Arthur? I do hope you loved the Blue Benn -- it's such a favorite of ours. The best things are their homemade soups and the macaroni and cheese made with Vt. cheddar. And I'm always too full for pie, so I never fail to get a slice to go...
Posted by: Julie | June 14, 2006 at 06:19 AM
You can call it "Officer Pie" for short, and many years and generations down the road, when it has become a traditional classic, folks can speculate on how it got it's name. Some researcher will stumble upon a reference to your blog...
Posted by: lindy | June 14, 2006 at 09:10 AM
Hi Julie,
I just picked up the latest issue of "Fine Cooking" magazine at Penn Station for my LIRR trip back to the island yesterday, and , behold, a recipe for the very pie you are lusting after!
Pick one up post haste and let me know how is comes out!
Hugs
Heather
Posted by: Heather | June 16, 2006 at 12:51 PM
Excuse me LOL'ing: neheh, we're not the only ones getting tickets, neheh!;-D (See this one: http://zarahogmartiniusa.blogspot.com/2006/05/den-skulle-i-ikke-snydes-for.html)
Posted by: Zarah Maria | June 17, 2006 at 06:57 AM
"Officer Pie" -- I like that, Lindy! It reminds me of Luisa's post on the mysteriously named "Hypocrite Pie": http://wednesdaychef.typepad.com/the_wednesday_chef/2006/06/john_t_edges_hy.html
Heather, I'm now on a search for a copy of Fine Cooking -- thanks for the tip! Great to see you here too -- I've been thinking of you.
Zarah, sad but true -- it's all too easy to be caught by those overzealous officers, hiding in the bushes and just waiting for innocent, happy travelers like ourselves who happen to be going a teeny bit too fast...
Posted by: Julie | June 18, 2006 at 09:09 AM
Hi Julie, me again... I had the pot roast, which was a little disappointing. I was tempted by the macaroni and cheese, so I'll have to remember that for next time. I'd only had breakfast there before. I didn't buy much at King Arthur, just some maple sugar candy and one of those funny-shaped whisks, but I really enjoyed the visit.
Posted by: Cathy | June 19, 2006 at 12:53 AM