From the Washington Post 

The expression "American as apple pie" is indelibly ingrained in our brains. Remember the "baseball, hot dogs, apple pie and Chevrolet" commercials? But really, if you want to get down to the nitty gritty, the expression has been around only since the 1960s (according to "America in So Many Words: Words That Have Shaped America" by David K. Barnhart and Allan A. Metcalf), a relatively short time in the pie world.

The reason I bring up pie in a cobbler blog is because pie predates cobbler by a few hundred years - it was born in England, it seems, during the Middle Ages. When the English settled on this side of the Atlantic, they quickly began baking their beloved pies, but with a twist.

Enter the cobbler.

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Shortbread is simply the most delicious biscuit ever conceived by mankind (though I suspect womankind had more to do with it!).

It would be blasphemy to call shortbread a "cookie". It is, truly, a BISCUIT!

As with all simple things, it is NOT easy to make, so I suggest you try this out on yourself or the family before you present it at afternoon tea to strangers.

Here is my Mother's recipe (I can not refer to that sainted lady and not capitalize - sorry, America!)

From the Los Angeles Times 

Quite frankly, persian mulberries often don't look like a fruit so sought-after that farmers have to hide them behind the counter. They can be fairly small, like malnourished raspberries, and so fragile that they frequently look a little dinged up from being picked. But Persian mulberries have an intoxicating effect on some people. A friend tasting her first one clapped her hand to her mouth and exclaimed, "This tastes like my grandfather's garden!"

Because they're so sought-after, more farmers are planting them, and some farmers who grew them before are expanding their orchards. They're certainly not yet commonplace (or cheap!), but at farmers markets you are starting to see them out on the table, instead of hidden away for the select few. If you've never had one, a Persian mulberry is intensely sweet, but with a nice, balancing acidity. The flavor is almost wine-like in its complexity. They're so good that I think it's a waste to cook them: Serve them in shortcake, on a biscuit with whipped cream, or freeze them into ice cream. 

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There’s something about being up at 4:00 a.m. that I feel, gives me permission to go to hell in a hand basket, gastronomically speaking.  I dropped my husband and kids off at LAX so he could escort them to Connecticut for summer camp. I always  feel bereft when the kids are away.  Especially our younger daughter Hannah, who I think on the eve of leaving, feels obligated to be sweeter to make up for the fact that her older sister Lena, urged by her teenage-ness, becomes, well, let’s just say, not so sweet.

I slept with Hannah last night and it was like being 13 all over again. Although I think our combined ages when we do that amounts to about 10.  “Quit tickling me!” “I’m not Mom.” “Are too!!” “Am not!” “Oh, Christ, you farted!” “Miss me yet?”

Driving home from the airport, I thought, ‘what would be open at this hour that would be absolutely decadent and bad for me…..?”  “Stan’s!”