Honouring Becky

If she were alive today, Becky Shauberger Turner would be celebrating another birthday, most likely with her beloved family.

Becky's absence is painfully evident when you go to her blog and read her last post.  But this is not about the void that Becky has left in so many lives.  This is a day to celebrate and honour her.  And one way that I will be celebrating Becky is by spelling the word "honour" as she would have done. I am going to ignore the squiggly red lines that indicate I have spelled it incorrectly.  I am sure Becky would have seen the same red squiggly lines over and over again while writing her blog.

When thinking about today and which of Becky's recipes I wanted to try, my first thought was to go with the Salted Caramel Nutella Brownies, in all its rich, decadent goodness.  Unfortunately I did not have the luxury of time that this recipe would involve.  I will save this recipe for another occasion, because I just HAVE to try it.  I can hear it calling my name!

Since Becky was a true Southern lady, and since I am from a far-flung corner of another part of the world, I picked the Peach Cobbler.  Even though  I noticed today that another friend of Becky's decided to go with the Peach Cobbler as well, I made it anyway because I have never baked a fruit cobbler before.   

I began with store-bought, locally grown peaches.  They may not have been the best, but they were going to have to do.

Peeled and hulled and sliced.  The effort was worth it.

Some sugar, a smidgen of grated nutmeg, a tablespoon of cornstarch, and the peaches were ready to go into the pastry-lined pie dish.

To my shame, I broke the cardinal rule I hold myself to.  Instead of making the pastry from scratch, I used store-bought pastry.  I know Becky is looking down from above and smiling at me, telling me not to be so hard on myself. 

The peach filling was generously dotted with butter.  I have never eaten fruit pies or cobblers before, but this was beginning to make me reconsider.

The cobbler was then covered with a pastry crust but not sealed shut as you would a pie.

The crust was dusted with sugar and cinnamon.

The cobbler went into the oven to bake.

An hour (which felt like an eternity) later.......

......voila!

In her blog, Becky asked, "Think I could get away with eating cobbler for breakfast?"  You could get away with anything, Becky.  We miss you so much but you will continue to live through our wonderful memories of you.