I'll have a cup of coffee and one of your blueberry muffins." She sighed and looked at me. "Your grandmother was such a good cook. Her blueberry muffins were extraordinary.""Yes, they were," I said, and I was back on Steiner Street again, Gran and I taking muffins from her tins and placing them on a wire rack to cool, the smell of baked sugar hanging in the oven-warmed air, the muffin tops covered with rivers of blue where the berries had melted from the heat.
-Mary Simses
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