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Art: Jean Sanders
We are getting ready for our summer vacation here in the Spy Test Kitchens. We are packing up the trusty auto to drive halfway across the state to a large lake, where we hope to do some swimming, hiking, and farm-stand-grazing. This year we bringing Luke the wonder Dog with us, instead of dropping him at the rather pricey dog spa. The three of us are ready for adventure, and we will be in search of intriguing-smelling walks, stands of trees, new bushes, places to toss the Chucker ball, and dog-friendly restaurants that have outdoor tables. I see a lot of ice cream in our future.
Last year for our summer getaway we went to New England, for many sentimental reasons, visiting old friends and far-flung members of the family. One morning in Cambridge, MA, we had a delightfully simple breakfast of a bowl of strawberries and blueberries. The end of June is that golden moment, where for mere days strawberries and blueberries are both in season. You should enjoy the magic yourself. Last weekend was the solstice, Strawberry Moon, which you will discover after a swift Google search, was named for the fleeting period when strawberries were harvested. Thank you, Farmers’ Almanac: “This ‘Strawberry Moon’ name has been used by Native American Algonquian tribes that live in the northeastern United States as well as the Ojibwe, Dakota, and Lakota peoples to mark the ripening of ‘June-bearing’ strawberries that are ready to be gathered.” Strawberry Moon. Just give me a bowl of sweetness, please.
Raspberry bushes grew near our house when I was little. I remember trailing along behind on the dusty, unpaved country path, stumbling over stones, trailing after my mother and older brother in the heat of a summer morning. I was hot, tired, and frustrated by being the tail end of the procession through the countryside. I was not overwhelmed by the writhing, prickly bushes covered with small red berries. Until I tasted a few. And then I learned to recognize which berries were soft and ripe, and how to pluck them cautiously, mindful of the vicious spiny thorns. Experience is a great teacher. The sun-warmed fruit I ate those summer days has never been equaled by anything store-bought. Over summers I learned the subtleties and variations of the color red as the raspberries ranged from crimson, to alizarin, to ruby, to flame red; to madder, scarlet, and vermillion. The drupelets were covered with tiny hairs (called trichomes, I now know), and the berries were sweet, yielding, and juicy. I don’t think I’ve ever studied food so closely, but they were my first You Pick It experience. Raspberries
That said, my Proustian encounter with raspberries paved the way for my appreciation of more fruits and berries. And I am going to take advantage of all the berries that come my way while we are on vacation. I think Luke deserves an icy treat all for himself, after a day of hiking with Mr. Sanders: Ice Water Bowl
Martha has strong opinions about strawberries, as we would expect. Pay attention: Types of Strawberries
There is nothing like a fancy, summertime Pavlova. And you will feel a great sense of accomplishment adding one to your cooking repertoire: Berry Pavlova
Here is a handy dandy list list of summer fruits. Treat yourself! Do it for Luke.
Summer Fruits:
Blueberries
Strawberries
Raspberries
Blackberries
Cantaloupe
Honeydew melon
Nectarines
Peaches
Plums
Sour cherries
Watermelon
Apricots
Plums
“Taste every fruit of every tree in the garden at least once. It is an insult to creation not to experience it fully. Temperance is wickedness.”
—Stephen Fry
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