My family is from rural Tennessee. In the summer, the fence rows swarm with blackberries and raspberries leap out of quiet nooks in the woods. The berries are melt in your mouth delicious. I always think of Seamus Heaney’s poem Blackberry Picking when I enjoy them. And while they’re delicious in cobblers, breakfast bowls, and handfuls, they’re especially delicious in cocktails. Here’s one that my nona taught me:
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