As the saying goes, “If it ain’t broke, don’t fix it.” But after seven years, I felt it was time to revisit my original Blueberry Pancake Recipe. While the original still holds up, a couple of things have changed that made an update worthwhile.
First, I upgraded to a non-stick crêpe pan, as my trusty old Circulon was nearing retirement. Second, I decided to leave out the thinly sliced blueberries from the batter.
This tweak resulted in thinner, more evenly cooked pancakes. But I still wanted that burst of blueberry flavour—and a touch of colour. The solution? A couple of tablespoons of St Dalfour’s Blueberry Fruit Spread whisked into the batter. The difference it makes is remarkable!
We still use the same generous helping of freshly sliced blueberries as in the original recipe—but now they’re all reserved for the garnish. The blueberry fruit spread has been added to enhance the flavour, but rest assured, nothing has been taken away.
From Bush to Bust: Our Blueberry Growing Fiasco
We both adore blueberries—especially when they’re in season and bursting with flavour. Inspired by that love, we decided to try growing our own. Unfortunately, we quickly learned that my skills in blueberry cultivation are… less than stellar.
Britain’s unpredictable weather already makes gardening a challenge, and our garden simply doesn’t get enough sunshine. Last year, Marlini bought a beautiful organic blueberry plant and gave it all the care and attention it deserved. Then came the slugs.
One morning, we found a slimy invasion at the base of the pot. Armed with my limited horticultural know-how, I resorted to the classic “salt method” to evict our unwelcome guests. It worked—almost too well. While the slug problem was solved, I failed to realise that the salt would also kill the plant.
Let’s just say Marlini was not impressed. I may have been forgiven, but the memory of me murdering her beloved blueberry plant lives on.
Although we did replace the plant, our dreams of quitting the day job to become prosperous blueberry farmers were well and truly crushed. At the height of this year’s “harvest,” we managed a grand total of four berries—which mysteriously vanished overnight.
