Fresh huckleberries, cleaned and bagged, at Missoula's Clark fork farmers market. Best of all, they're all ready for eating, cooking, and baking.
About the middle of July every year, I keep my fingers crossed when I go to farmers markets, hoping I’ll find huckleberries for sale. This year, I let go a loud “Yippee” on the second Saturday of the month. I bought a 1-pound bag, nibbled on some, and the rest of the berries soon found their way into a batch of muffins. The following week I splurged and bought a 5-pound bag of huckleberries. That expenditure called for a grand celebration: The First Huckleberry Pie Of The Season.
Each time I make this pie, I think back to our first summer in Missoula when we became initiated in the huckleberry mystique. Our new neighbors described what the bushes and berries looked like and suggested where to go picking. Yes, picking. No one was selling huckleberries then. With buckets in hand, and our two young sons in tow, we traipsed up a mountainside on a hot July afternoon hunting for something we’d never seen before. But then we found our El Dorado: A patch of bushes bearing small berries glimmering like jewels in the sun. Scrambling onto the ground, we began plucking and tasting the fruit. Instantly we understood what the fuss was all about. A spicy, luscious tartness introduced our taste buds to something utterly new and wild-tasting. We had to have more. “Not so fast guys,” my wife cautioned. “We need 5 cups for a pie.” So plunk, plunk, plunk, went the berries into our pails. Eventually that echoey sound became a pleasing silence as the berries rose ever higher in our pails.
When I bake huckleberry pie I serve it plain. I know that ice cream or whipped cream go great with many pies, but huckleberries are stars that need no supporting players. My favorite pastry is made with a combination of butter and leaf lard. Rendering the waxy fat around pork kidneys produces this terrific lard. In the recipe headnote, there’s a link to where you can order the lard online. Happy Baking!
