I'm A "Citizens for Boysenberry Jam" Fan.

The Boysenberry was developed by a failed horticulturist named Rudolph Boysen (1895-1950). He was unsuccessful at marketing the fruit, which is a combination of blackberry, raspberry, and loganberry. He abandoned his farm and it was resurrected by another unsuccessful Anaheim, California farmer named Walter Knott. Knott was able to nurse the vines back to health and the Boysenberry was made into pies and preserves which were sold at Knott's Berry Farm. At that time, (193o) it was not much more than a roadside stand. His wife, Cordelia, soon began serving chicken dinners to the lines of people waiting to get the berries.

The rest, as they say, is laughing all the way to the bank...all thanks to poor old Boysen.

Now all this is simply a backdrop to the story of our neighbor, Kevin, and his generosity with local fruit. Kevin is in his 80's. We can't get a clear number out of him, but let's say 84. He has lived in our neighborhood for 50 years and everyone calls him the Mayor of Cleveland Terrace. In may ways, he is a lot like Dad, except he is a churchgoer and he doesn't change light bulbs.

When we first moved in here, Kevin showed up to welcome us with wonderful apples. He still brings them all the time. But one day he dropped off a huge box of Boysenberries. Apparently, he has a friend with a 30 acre Boysenberry farm and all the fruit is exported. Kevin, however, gets these 10kg boxes that fall off the truck or something. He then gives them to his special friends.

Kimberly has become his special friend and that's how I get Boysenberry cobbler.

Kimberly decided to try her hand at baking with these huge ping pong sized things and looked on the Internets for a recipe. She found a really good one that called for instant tapioca pudding and coconut. I love both of those things so we were off to the store to get them.

But it doesn't work that way here, sir. They never heard of "Jello". They probably don't even know Bill Cosby. Needless to say, a simpler recipe was chosen and a cobbler was created.

This friggin' thing is so good, so syrupy, you really don't need to put ice cream on top, unless you happened to have some in the freezer, which I always do. You also don't need a serving bowl. It's kind of in a bowl when it comes out of the oven.

All you need is a spoon, or a fork...the best would be a spork...a BIG spork. The cobbler was completely devoured in 2 days.

Kevin never saw a piece. Looks like we have to make another one for him. Probably two would be a good idea, in case I get hungry.

Some monkeys out there actually think that a cobbler is a guy who fixes shoes. I don't know about that, but if any of this dessert accidentally dropped onto my muddy boots, I would gladly lick it off.

And remember, last post where I was trying to drop 5kg?

Life sure is full of changes.