Boysenberry Cobbler

If you want to add more Southern recipes to your recipe box, Boysenberry Cobbler might be a recipe you should try. One portion of this dish contains roughly 12g of protein, 32g of fat, and a total of 1118 calories. For $8.23 per serving, this recipe covers 26% of your daily requirements of vitamins and minerals. This recipe serves 2. 2 people have tried and liked this recipe. It works well as a dessert. It is brought to you by Foodista. From preparation to the plate, this recipe takes approximately 45 minutes. Head to the store and pick up flour, boysenberries, vanillan ice cream, and a few other things to make it today. Overall, this recipe earns a not so spectacular spoonacular score of 21%. Similar recipes include Boysenberry Cobbler, Boysenberry Cobbler, and Easy Boysenberry Cobbler.

Servings: 2

Preparation duration: -1 minutes

Cooking duration: -1 minutes

 

Ingredients:

1 teaspoon Baking powder

4 cups Boysenberries, picked over, rinsed & drained well

1/4 cup melted butter

2 tablespoons cornstarch

1 cup Flour

1 tablespoon Lemon juice

teaspoon Salt

cup Sugar

Vanilla ice cream

Equipment:

bowl

frying pan

baking sheet

oven

stove

aluminum foil

Cooking instruction summary:

  1. In a large bowl, stir together the cornstarch an 1/4 cup cold water until cornstarch is completely dissolved. Add 1 cup sugar, lemon juice, and boysenberries, and combine the mixture gently but thoroughly. Transfer to an 8-inch cast-iron skillet.
  2. In a bowl, combine well the flour, remaining sugar, baking powder, and salt. Blend in the butter until the mixture resembles coarse meal. Add 1/4 cup boiling water and stir the mixture until it just forms a dough.
  3. Bring the boysenberry mixture to a boil on top of the stove, stirring.
  4. Drop spoonfuls of the dough carefully onto the boiling mixture, and bake the cobbler on a foil lined baking sheet in the middle of a 400F degree oven for 20-25 minutes or until the topping is golden. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream.

 

Step by step:


1. In a large bowl, stir together the cornstarch an 1/4 cup cold water until cornstarch is completely dissolved.

2. Add 1 cup sugar, lemon juice, and boysenberries, and combine the mixture gently but thoroughly.

3. Transfer to an 8-inch cast-iron skillet.In a bowl, combine well the flour, remaining sugar, baking powder, and salt. Blend in the butter until the mixture resembles coarse meal.

4. Add 1/4 cup boiling water and stir the mixture until it just forms a dough.Bring the boysenberry mixture to a boil on top of the stove, stirring.Drop spoonfuls of the dough carefully onto the boiling mixture, and bake the cobbler on a foil lined baking sheet in the middle of a 400F degree oven for 20-25 minutes or until the topping is golden.

5. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream.


Nutrition Information:

Quickview
1117 Calories
11g Protein
31g Total Fat
203g Carbs
11% Health Score
Limit These
Calories
1117k
56%

Fat
31g
49%

  Saturated Fat
19g
120%

Carbohydrates
203g
68%

  Sugar
132g
147%

Cholesterol
90mg
30%

Sodium
1615mg
70%

Get Enough Of These
Protein
11g
24%

Manganese
1mg
94%

Folate
286µg
72%

Fiber
16g
65%

Vitamin B1
0.66mg
44%

Vitamin B2
0.59mg
35%

Selenium
24µg
34%

Iron
5mg
31%

Calcium
291mg
29%

Vitamin B3
5mg
29%

Phosphorus
260mg
26%

Vitamin A
1164IU
23%

Vitamin K
22µg
22%

Vitamin E
3mg
21%

Magnesium
67mg
17%

Potassium
582mg
17%

Copper
0.33mg
16%

Vitamin C
11mg
14%

Vitamin B5
1mg
14%

Vitamin B6
0.21mg
11%

Zinc
1mg
10%

Vitamin B12
0.31µg
5%

covered percent of daily need
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Food Trivia

Cooking food is one of the great revolutionary innovations of history because it not only transformed the way we prepare food, but because it also became a center of cultural communion and organized society.

Food Joke

I tried not to be biased in hiring a handicapped person, but his placement counselor assured me that he would be a good, reliable busboy. I had never had a mentally-handicapped employee, and I wasn't sure I wanted one. I wasn't sure how my customers would react to Stevie. He was short, a little dumpy, and had the smooth facial features and thick-tongued speech of Down Syndrome. I wasn't worried about most of my trucker customers because truckers don't generally care who buses tables as long as the meatloaf platter is good and the pies are homemade. The four-wheeler drivers were the ones who concerned me; the mouthy college kids traveling to school; the yuppie snobs who secretly polish their silverware with their napkins for fear of catching some dreaded "truck stop germ;" the pairs of white-shirted business men on expense accounts who think every truck stop waitress wants to be flirted with. I knew those people would be uncomfortable around Stevie so I closely watched him for the first few weeks. I shouldn't have worried. After the first week, Stevie had my staff wrapped around his stubby little finger, and within a month my truck regulars had adopted him as their official truck stop mascot. After that, I really didn't care what the rest of the customers thought of him. He was like a 21-year-old in blue jeans and Nikes, eager to laugh and eager to please, but fierce in his attention to his duties. Every salt and pepper shaker was exactly in its place, not a bread crumb or coffee spill was visible when Stevie got done with the table. Our only problem was convincing him to wait to clean a table until after the customers were finished. He would hover in the background, shifting his weight from one foot to the other, scanning the dining room until a table was empty. Then he would scurry to the empty table and carefully bus the dishes and glasses onto a cart and meticulously wipe the table up with a practiced flourish of his rag. If he thought a customer was watching, his brow would pucker with added concentration. He took pride in doing his job exactly right, and you had to love how hard he tried to please each and every person he met. Over time, we learned that he lived with his mother, a widow who was disabled after repeated surgeries for cancer. They lived on their Social Security benefits in public housing two miles from the truck stop. Their social worker, who stopped to check on him every so often, admitted they had fallen between the cracks. Money was tight, and what I paid him was probably the difference between them being able to live together and Stevie being sent to a group home. That's why the restaurant was a gloomy place that morning last August, the first morning in three years that Stevie had missed work. He was at the Mayo Clinic in Rochester getting a new valve or something put in his heart. His social worker said that people with Down Syndrome often had heart problems at an early age so this wasn't unexpected, and there was a good chance he would come through the surgery in good shape and be back at work in a few months. A ripple of excitement ran through the staff later that morning when word came that he was out of surgery, in recovery and doing fine. Frannie, my head waitress, let out a war whoop and did a little dance in the aisle when she heard the good news. Belle Ringer, one of our regular trucker customers, stared at the sight of the 50-year-old grandmother of four doing a victory shimmy beside his table. Frannie blushed, smoothed her apron and shot Belle Ringer a withering look. He grinned. "OK, Frannie, what was that all about?" he asked. "We just got word that Stevie is out of surgery and going to be okay." "I was wondering where he was. I had a new joke to tell him. What was the surgery about?" Frannie quickly told Belle Ringer and the other two drivers sitting at his booth about Stevie's surgery, then sighed. "Yeah, I'm glad he is going to be OK," she said, "but I don't know how he and his mom are going to handle all the bills. From what I hear, they're barely getti.

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