One fine evening after went to a concert at downtown, hubby and I strolled around the Market Square. It was almost 11 o'clock, we'd had dinner at home before the concert so we weren't hungry. Approaching a local diner, hubby told me that that place had a great cobbler. So we went there, ordered two cobblers. I was satisfied with the cobbler. It was a tiny bowl of warm berry-and-peach cobbler covered with a cute star-shaped crust topped with a tiny scoop of vanilla ice cream. The best cobbler I've had so far. Then came the bill. *gulp! I didn't think it tasted good after seeing the price. Since then hubby and I often refer to that moment and laugh.
When my parents and sister visited us, we went to a strawberry farm. They were so excited to see the farm, because the one they visited in our country was much smaller. A minute after distributing buckets for them, I saw mom was busy picking strawberries, sister was busy eating those luscious fruits ignoring dad's reminder that those were unwashed, dad was busy recording and taking picture for my other sister back home, while hubby was reading in the car as usual. We brought those three buckets of strawberries home. I knew we couldn't finish those since our schedule was full during their visit. We shared some portions to our friends, ate some, then froze the rest.
Today, I found a fruit cobbler recipe from a new cookbook my friend gave me as a graduation gift. I was happy to finally use those frozen strawberry I'd been keeping for three months. This was my first cobbler that is still far from perfection. The stars I made to imitate ones we had on the pricey cobbler didn't work. The dough was too stretchy. The filling was too runny and when it was being baked, it oozed from the pan to the bottom of the oven. It also had no vanilla ice cream. Nonetheless, we had no less enjoyment that what we had at that local diner