As the winter months drag on, the little display of fresh strawberries (and sometimes blueberries and raspberries) draws me away from the apples and bananas.
I look, but I rarely buy...as the fruit has traveled from far away lands. I wouldn't mind pawning my jewels to offset the purchase, but the texture and taste is usually disappointing.
Today I caved. (I'm blaming it on Sabrina - she posted photos of her little fellow chowin' down in the middle of a sun splashed U-pick field down in the far away lands of Texas.)
After washing them, I grabbed a bowl and sliced into the first one. Even though a bit too crisp, the scent was a faint but definite berry. Enough to trigger a saliva gland twitch in response.
Not every berry was as appealing, however. I eventually sprinkled sugar over the contents of the small bowl and micro-waved them (slightly) into a softer snack. There was just too much unripe flesh.
When our local fields come to fruition in June, the strawberries are red to the core. They melt in your mouth after staining your fingers and lips. And, whatever you are wearing - if you're careless and the sweetness dribbles down your chin. (Which I am and it does.) The juice soaks into your shortcake and turns the whipped cream pink.
The fragrance wafting from a field of ripe berries on the hot afternoon breeze is on my mind.
But, the little plastic container posed between the other fruits and vegetables in the produce department is my reality.
Can you tell that I am craving fresh strawberries?