Blackberry Cobbler for Dad (and for You, Too, Let’s Be Honest)

Excuse me while I go stare into the abyss for a moment.

Okay, I’m back. Still in denial, but I brought snacks. Or at least I will have snacks once this glorious cobbler is out of the oven. You see, there is one thing on this entire planet that my dad loves more than a perfectly organized tool bench: blackberry cobbler.

And not just any blackberry cobbler. Oh no. His favorite version is from none other than the Queen of Ranch Living herself, Ree Drummond. I swear, the man could eat this stuff for breakfast, lunch, and dinner if we let him (and sometimes we do, because why not? Seventy deserves celebration in all the mealtimes).  And lets be real, if it's got fruit in it, I'm gonna call it breakfast, too. 

So today, in honor of my dad and the eternal march of time (ugh), I’m sharing this cobbler with you. And listen, even if your own dad’s birthday isn’t anywhere on the calendar, I still think you should make it. Why? Because this cobbler is everything: buttery, fruity, gooey in the best way, and stupidly easy. Like, you-can-make-it-while-simultaneously-Googling-“how to not freak out about aging” easy.

And no, it’s not the prettiest dessert in the world. Let’s just own that upfront. It kind of looks like a fruit volcano erupted in your baking dish and someone tried to patch it with biscuit Band-Aids. But the flavor? It’s the edible equivalent of a bear hug from someone who loves you. Warm, a little messy, comforting, and somehow just what you needed.

🥄 Blackberry Cobbler for Dad

Inspired by Ree Drummond, Made With Love (and Maybe a Few Existential Feelings)

Ingredients:

• 1 stick (1/2 cup) unsalted butter

• 1 cup all-purpose flour

• 1 cup sugar (plus a little extra for sprinkling)

• 1 tablespoon baking powder

• A pinch of salt

• 1 cup milk

• 2 cups fresh or frozen blackberries (don’t thaw if frozen)

• Juice of half a lemon (optional but lovely)

• 1–2 tablespoons of sugar for the berries

Instructions:

1. Preheat your oven to 350°F. Place the stick of butter in a 9x9 or 9x13 baking dish and pop it in the oven to melt while you mix the batter. Don’t forget it in there like I definitely didn’t do that one time. Or three.

2. In a mixing bowl, whisk together the flour, 1 cup sugar, baking powder, and salt. Add the milk and whisk until mostly smooth. It’s okay if it looks like pancake batter. It basically is pancake batter, just more fun.

3. Pour the batter over the melted butter. Do NOT stir. I know. Your instincts will scream “MIX IT!!” but trust the process. This dessert is chaotic by nature, and we love it for that.

4. Toss the blackberries with lemon juice and a tablespoon or two of sugar. If your berries are sweet already, you can be stingy. If they’re tart (or you’re feeling generous), go wild.

5. Spoon the berries evenly over the batter. Again, no stirring! I mean it! The berries will sink and float and do their thing. It’s not science. Okay, it is science, but like…lazy science.

6. Sprinkle a little sugar on top if you like a lightly crisp finish (you do). Then bake for 45 minutes to an hour, until the top is golden and the edges are bubbling like a witch’s cauldron of joy.

7. Let it cool slightly—I know it’s hard, but your tongue will thank you—and serve warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream, whipped cream, or straight out of the dish if nobody’s watching.

A Few Notes from My Kitchen of Controlled Chaos:

• I have used other fruits. Peaches? Divine. Blueberries? Fabulous. But Dad says blackberry or bust, and I kind of agree.

• If your cobbler starts to brown too fast, tent it with foil. If your oven runs cool, add 5–10 minutes.

• Leftovers (ha) are amazing for breakfast. Just call it a “rustic fruit bake” and add Greek yogurt. Bam! Adulting.

So here’s to Dad. And to cobbler. And to facing down birthdays and decades and wrinkle creams with delicious things in our hands.

This dessert isn’t just food—it’s a memory on a plate. I can still see Dad, post-slice, going back “just for a sliver” with a fork the size of a canoe paddle. I hear him telling my kids the story of how he once ate an entire cobbler himself and “didn’t even regret it until Wednesday.”

Happy 70th, Dad. I love you more than blackberry season—and you know that’s saying something.

And to everyone else: if you make this cobbler, do it for someone you love. Or do it for yourself. Because honestly, we all deserve a warm, buttery, berry-laden reminder that life is sweet. Even when it’s messy.

Especially when it’s messy.