“One must ask children and birds how cherries and strawberries taste.”
I have been thinking about Strawberries for a while now. Our season for this local fruit at its peak is short, generally the last two weeks of June. The problem is that the only really good strawberry is best when picked fresh and eaten and alas the season has passed. And I pretty much missed it.
There is purity in its taste that spoils me for secondary products but today at the market I succumbed to the purchase of two-quart baskets. From California. I knew better. My aunt has a saying, “Live in hope, die in despair.”
As soon as I got home I cleaned them gazing, anticipating, drooling at the deep delicious red enticing berries. I entirely forgot about that whole judging a book by its cover thing. I forgot about every imported berry I had ingested before.
Fruit that has been imported is never as tasty as fresh from the garden. Usually I will buy frozen because they are given the deep freeze at the peak of freshness where imported means picked before ripeness, shipped and sprayed or dyed for color.
I forgot because it was more pleasant remembering what real ones taste like. I do that way too often preferring to believe what I want things to be rather than seeing them for what they are. Nuts.
I started slicing them. Maybe I should not have done the slicing thing. Beautiful plump red….with insides that looked like white wood. Not even a pretense at berry insides. Just white wood. So they are now in a bowl in the fridge and I choose to hope that by tomorrow morning they will have by some miracle turned into the real thing.
Either way I have Devon Cream and tomorrow in my mind it will be the best I have ever eaten!