You signal a turn and carefully turn off the dirt road onto a very small private road,
following the signs for the berry farm. You are not, apparently, careful ENOUGH
however, because you manage to hit yet another pothole, which shakes the car with an
ominous rattling sound. You imagine your shock absorbers waving little white flags. The
bumpy ride prompts your daughter to start complaining again; she's twelve and
complaining is her new favorite hobby, so she's very good at it. Your son wants to know if
"we're there yet". Your wife has passed the point of complaining and has retreated to a
sullen silence.
It seemed like a simple enough proposition last night - the whole family would get up early
and go pick strawberries. You'd leave early enough that you'd beat any crowds and get the
best berries. You'd spend a few hours in the field, picking berries, bonding as a family,
then you'd drive home and you'd make strawberry shortcake like you remember your
mother making when you were a kid. Your children would look up at you and say, "Gee
thanks! You're the BEST!" and your wife would smile at you, suffused with a golden glow
and ask herself how she managed to marry such a wonderful guy.
Of course, it hasn't worked out quite that way so far. Silently, you ask why you're putting
yourself through this. This is not the first time you've asked the question this morning.
You've probably asked it at least five times already. You asked it when you got up at the
crack of dawn and tried to pry your children out of bed. You asked it when spent over an
hour waiting for your daughter to get out of the bathroom where she was having hair
issues. You asked it again when you got three lost three times and couldn't bring yourself
to ask for directions, thus inspiring the frosty silence from the seat next to you.
But now your troubles appear to be over. You've finally managed to find the berry farm.
It should be smooth sailing from here.
As you drive away from the farm three hours later, you realize that "smooth sailing" might
have been a trifle optimistic. Your wife is no longer frosty - she's badly sunburnt. Your
daughter has been traumatized by a bee and is gleefully speculating on how badly this will
scar her for the rest of her life and announcing that you'll have to deal with the guilt
because it's ALL YOUR FAULT. You had forgotten how much work it is to stoop over
for hours at a time, picking berries and you aren't sure, but you suspect you may have
thrown your back out. The good news however, is that your eight year old son had a great
time. The bad news is that he abandoned the berry basket you provided for him early on
in favor of a plastic grocery bag which would hold more berries. Unfortunately, the ones
on the bottom of the bag have been crushed and are now leaking strawberry juice all over
your back seat.
You ask yourself again why you are going to all this trouble. These are strawberries - not
truffles. You can buy them cheaply and easily in the grocery store. Why put yourself
through all this?
The ride home goes comparatively smoothly. You decide that discretion is the better part
of valor in this case and let your family go their separate ways without asking them to help
you make the shortcake. You tell yourself that they'll perk up as soon as they taste how
good it is.
After half an hour of rifling through every cookbook in the house, you still haven't found
your mother's shortcake recipe, so you call her. She laughs at you and you are shocked to
find out that she never HAD a shortcake recipe. "It's on the side of the biscuit mix," she
tells you.
Apparently not YOUR brand of biscuit mix however, and you have to make a trip to the
grocery store to buy a box of biscuit mix that you will probably never use in order to get a
recipe that until now, you had assumed was a family heirloom. You ask yourself again,
"Why am I doing this?"
Two more hours later, you have finally made your shortcake. You have also burned two
batches of biscuits, cut your finger cleaning the strawberries and splattered the walls with
whipped cream while trying to figure out how to use the mixer.
Your family doesn't want to eat it.
So you stand in the ruins of your kitchen, looking at a bowl of strawberry shortcake. You
pile a few more berries on top of the whipped cream. You take another look around the
kitchen.
"Why did I go to all this trouble?"
You take your first bite and then you know why.
Picking your own strawberries can be a great experience. Just keep several points in mind:
Dress appropriately. It will probably be hot, sweaty work and you'll regret wearing
anything too nice or too warm. The sun will be beating down on you unmercifully, so
make sure you wear a hat - a proper hat with a wide brim, not a baseball cap.
Actually picking the berries can be a lot of fun. It can also be a hard, hot, boring job.
Don't expect very young children to stay interested for very long. Pick berries with them
for as long as it's fun, then do yourself a favor and buy all the berries that you will actually
use prepicked from the people who run the place. These will be more expensive than the
ones you pick yourself - indeed, about the same price that you'd pay at the grocery store,
but they will be so fresh and ripe and delicious that they will definitely be worth the price.
Be careful of bees, wasps and other insects who are attracted by sweet berry juice or by
you.
Recipes:
Blackened Snapper with Strawberries
1/2 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp garlic salt
1/4 tsp paprika
1/4 tsp oregano
1/4 tsp thyme
Salt and pepper to taste
2 fresh snapper fillets
1 tbsp butter
1 1/2 cups ripe strawberries, cut in half
In a small bowl combine the cinnamon, garlic, paprika, oregano, thyme, salt and pepper.
Season the fillets on both sides.
In a skillet, melt the butter over medium heat. Sauté the strawberries briefly just to warm.
Do not overheat. Remove from the pan and set aside. Increase the heat to high. Place the
fillets in the skillet and cook over high heat until the fish is blackened but not burned. Turn
over and cook the other side. Remove from the pan. Arrange spinach leaves on one side
of each plate and place a fillet on top of each. Place sautéed strawberries on each plate.
Strawberry Cheesecake Royale
Crust:
Margarine
1/2 cup slivered almonds
1 cup vanilla wafer crumbs
1/3 cup margarine, melted
Cream Cheese Filling:
4 cups fresh strawberries, hulled
3 8-oz packages cream cheese, softened
1 cup sugar
3/4 cup fresh orange juice
2 envelopes unflavored gelatin
1/2 cup cold water
1 cup whipping cream, whipped
For the crust, lightly oil the bottom and sides of a 9-inch springform pan and line the sides
with waxed paper. In a skillet, melt a small amount of margarine and lightly toast the
almonds. In a medium bowl, combine the wafer crumbs, toasted almonds and 1/3 cup of
margarine. Mix well. Press into the pan. Chill.
For the filling, crush enough strawberries to make 2 cups. Reserve the remaining berries
for garnish. In a large bowl, beat the cream cheese, sugar and orange juice together with
an electric mixer until smooth. Stir in the crushed strawberries. In a small saucepan,
soften the gelatin in cold water. Place the pan over low heat and cook, stirring constantly,
until the gelatin is dissolved. Blend thoroughly into the cream cheese and strawberry
mixture. Chill just until the mixture is thickened, not set.
Fold in the whipped cream. Pour into the prepared crust and chill for several hours.
When ready to serve, remove the sides of the springform pan and the waxed paper.
Decorate with additional whipped cream and whole strawberries.
Recipes from Wild Strawberries and Cream by Jo-Anne Clark Brown, Cumberland
House Hearthside Books, 1999.
