On a wild and rainy summer night, I pulled up to the curb and met a man at the Bowery Hotel, where I slipped him an anonymous and unmarked envelope of cash. After a brief exchange under the the awning that shrouded us from the street behind a perpetual veil of rain, I left with my reward fleeing into the street, the night, back over the Williamsburg Bridge to my burrough.
Back in Brooklyn, I stashed my loot in the walkin, where they wedged beside grapefruits and apples to await their fate tomorrow when they will be turned into jam.
Wild blueberries, such divine little nuggets! I got these organically grown beauties from Doug at Continuous Harmony Blueberries, who farms some of the prettiest country up in Lincolnville on the coast of Maine.
Keep your eyes peeled for what magical concoctions are divined with these berries....