We’re walking through the grocery store, and Tim’s telling me about this idea he has for using up the case of blueberries in our cart (because apparently it’s an annual tradition).
“It’d be like a cookie,” he’s saying, “but you wouldn’t bake it, and there’d be blueberries mixed inside. Then, we’ll dip them in chocolate!”
I hear my mouth say something like OK even as I’m rounding another aisle on the hunt for flour, but honestly, all I’m thinking about is cracking open a pint as soon as we can get in the car. In the checkout line, when our cashier inquires about our blueberry plans, Tim’s ready. “Well, we’ll bake some, we’ll eat some and then we’ll freeze some!” he tells her, as excited as it were a conveyor belt of diamonds and rubies, not berries, that we are sending down the line.
And minutes later, as we’re feasting on fistfuls of blueberries while exiting the parking lot, talking excitedly about scones and pancakes and smoothies, I think to myself, man, there’s just nobody like Tim.
We’ve only been married eight-and-a-half months, a time span not quite long enough to complete a school year, qualify for employee vacation time or in most cases grow a child, and yet there are so many things I already find myself taking for granted about our life—like the way we read to each other, in bed at night, on car trips to nearby towns or at the table when one or the other of us finds an article that’s interesting in the middle of our workdays; or the random way we’ll enter deep discussions, like when I ask him “Why do you think people are so drawn to laughter?” one afternoon, driving in the car.
In many ways, Tim is just like me: enjoys reading, a homebody, gets frustrated when something is imprecise. In other ways, he’s not: doesn’t fear what people think, for one; is full of faith, for another. I told our friend Jared a few weeks ago that I think marriage is sometimes like a mirror and what I meant was this: there’s something about the very close, very personal day-to-day interaction with another human being that makes you better able to see yourself. Through eight-and-a-half months of living with Tim, sharing our meals and our work and our weekends, I’ve seen things about myself I don’t like, areas were I lack—mostly because they are areas where he doesn’t.
I, it’s becoming clearer and clearer, am what you might call a cynic, a person prone to suspicion and doubt. I like proof and want evidence and probably won’t believe something until I can see, for sure, that it’s true. You could blame this on authority figures I had who lied to me or to the social environment I grew up in that deceived and hid grace, but the larger issue is me—me and my fear and my doubt. A few years ago, in a Bible study I was in, we were reading about the apostle Thomas, the one who had to see Jesus’ hands, and I starting sobbing when I read Christ’s response: no censure, no condemnation, just “Put your finger here. See my hands.” I think about that sometimes when Tim and I talk about the future and wanting to give more, and I have to rehearse in my mind promises, promises that I’ve seen to be true, like evidence, right before my eyes.
And I think about that when he talks animatedly about blueberries, to a stranger at the grocery store, without inhibition or caution or a guard up, and I think about it when he tells me his hopes for the future, hopes I’d throw away as impossible or too big. What a gift to live life with a man like this, what a gift to rub up against him and feel my faith sharpened, see my hope grow. And what a gift to eat blueberry-filled, cookie-dough truffles covered in chocolate, the ones he envisioned and I couldn’t see, the ones that are crazy, almost unbelievably, good.
Blueberry Cookie Dough Truffles
Makes nine large or 18 small truffles
The way I describe these truffles to everyone we’ve told about them is this: Tim had an idea, and I didn’t think it would be good, but I was so wrong. These truffles, decadent and only sweetened with honey, lasted hours—mere hours—in our fridge.
1/4 cup raw butter – room temperature or melted (or you might try coconut oil)
1/8 cup raw honey
1 to 1 1/4 cup almond meal
Around 1/3 cup blueberries
2 ounces melted dark chocolate*
MAKE COOKIE DOUGH
In a medium bowl, mix together softened butter and honey until creamy and well blended. Add almond flour until the texture is like a sticky paste. Add blueberries.
FORM TRUFFLE BALLS & MELT CHOCOLATE
Scoop out balls of batter and place on a parchment-lined half-cookie-sheet and freeze for about 15 minutes. Meanwhile, melt chocolate in a double boiler.
DIP TRUFFLES IN CHOCOLATE
Take the truffle balls out of the freezer and, using a spoon, dip them one by one in the chocolate, rolling them around until covered. Return, one by one, to parchment-covered sheet. Place in the fridge until firm.
*We made our own chocolate by combining unsweetened chocolate, honey, cocoa powder and coconut oil in a double boiler, adjusting proportions to taste, similar to what we did for the cherry chocolate coconut milk ice cream from last week.
Are you looking for more gluten free sweet treats? These should tickle your tummy:
- Homemade Ginger Candy
- Flourless Rocky Road Chocolate Cookies
- Gluten-Free White Chocolate Almond Cookies
About Shanna Mallon
Shanna holds an MA in writing from DePaul University. Her mantra? Restoring order and celebrating beauty through creative content, photography, and food. Shanna's work has been featured in Bon Appetit, The Kitchn, MSN.com, Everyday Health, Better Homes & Gardens, Houzz.com, Food News Journal, Food52, Zeit Magazine, Chew the World, Mom.me, Babble, Delish.com, Parade, Foodista, Entrepreneur and Ragan PR.