I always think of blackberries on the fourth of July. A weird association, considering that most Americans probably hear "Independence Day" and think "Barbecue. Beer. Mmmmm. Beer."

But...

Today is my father's birthday (Happy Birthday, Dad!) so the 4th generally means some kind of celebratory dessert. When I was little, my family spent a few summers renting a house in Westport, Massachusetts (very, very different from the tawny Westport, Connecticut, lest  you judge me, judger.). The simple vacation rental had a grassy backyard that spilled right onto a small, rocky beach. Dad had these waist-high rubber waders, and I remember many summer nights spent perched on his shoulders while he stood in the ocean with his fishing pole, trying, in vain, to catch the next night's supper.

When they weren't keeping Dad's legs dry, those rubber waders protected my mother's legs from brambles when she'd "wade" into a thicket that bordered the perimeter of the yard, searching for wild blackberries. Blackberries by the sea...it sounds like the name of a terrible indie rock band or wanton romance novel.

Mom would always emerge with Tupperware containers brimming with juicy berries, and she'd use them in one of her incredible desserts or muffins. I don't know why my taste memory associates blackberries specifically with Dad's birthday; I imagine Mom made a pie or a cobbler for the birthday dessert one year (or maybe more than one year). It doesn't matter. The point is, today is the day that I eat blackberries.

How perfect, then, that not a five-minute walk from my San Francisco house is an entire city block populated with wild blackberries! I don't know how we got so lucky. We live in a part of the city that feels more suburban than the rest - lots of trees, single-family homes, parks. Plenty of green space, which was a must-have when we were apartment searching last year (we've got two dogs, one of which has more energy than a rabbit, post-cocaine bender).

Picked 'em! Gonna eat 'em.

I first spotted the berries last year, and I've been waiting for months for them to grow back, hoping that they weren't just a figment of my imagination on a hot summer day. Nope - not only are they back again, but we just discovered that they actually grow all over the park at the end of our street. And nobody else seems to notice them! Kids and their parents play soccer and Frisbee and "chase your kid until he's tired enough to go to bed" games mere feet from the cache of wild deliciousness, and nobody bats an eye. More for us!

Mom mentioned "pocket pies" (tiny pies that fit in your pocket. You're welcome.) the other night on the phone, and I immediately started drooling. My two favorite foods are pie and dumplings, and her description of a hand pie sounded like a mash-up of the two. Actually, now that I think about it, she called them "hand pies" but I automatically changed the name to something alliterative because I am my father's word nerd child. (More on that some other time.)

I dragged Sam out to pick some berries with me, and then when I got back, I had Mom rattle off a pie crust recipe that's appropriate for these tiny fruit-filled pillows.

What, you can't make sense of this?

Mom says:

1 cup flour (I only had whole wheat. Mom warned me that the crust wouldn't be very flaky. She was right. Obv.)
1 Tbsp powdered sugar
1/4 tsp baking powder
1/4 tsp salt
6 Tbsp unsalted butter (if you only have salted, just omit the 1/4 tsp of salt from the recipe)
4 Tbsp buttermilk (Who keeps buttermilk? I never have it. Mom said to add 1 tsp of white vinegar to 4 Tbsp of milk, let it sit for a few minutes, and then give it a stir)
2 Tbsp orange juice

• Whisk together your dry ingredients.
• Cut in the butter with a pastry blender, two forks, or your (clean, dry) hands, until it's all crumbly, like clumpy sand. 
• Add your wet ingredients. (Mom says to keep the orange juice on ice to make it super cold. I forgot to do this, But it was fine.) 
• Mix everything together just until you're able to easily form the dough into a ball. If it's sticky, add a little more flour. 
• Flatten into a disc, wrap in plastic, and refrigerate for at least an hour - ideally, overnight. (To me, this is unrealistic. Usually, when I'm baking, it's because I had an idea and I want to bake and subsequently eat something RIGHT NOW. Not tomorrow.)

When your dough is done, roll it out, cut out some circles using a cookie cutter or, because why would you have a cookie cutter that's shaped like a circle, the rim of a juice or pint glass.

Filling:

• Add 1 Tbsp cornstarch to 1/2 cup of your favorite jelly or jam. Whisk whisk whisk
• Put a small spoonful of this in the center of your pie dough circle. 
• Optional: add a fresh berry or two
• Fold into a crescent, pinch together, then press a fork around the edges to seal

I used strawberry jam and, duh, added blackberries to each pocket pie:

• Bake for 15 minutes at 375 degrees

Some of them leaked. Hey - are YOU perfect?

In the end, I had a tray full of velvety pocket pies that, though rather sad-looking, tasted delicious, like summer by the sea.