When I was a child tracing the cracks of sidewalks with my tender bare feet I knew nothing of the joy that each season had to offer–I was simply on a mission to find things in the dirt and release them from the soils firm grip. It seems like yesterday Nanny was walking across the decrepit bridge to the garden in search of the overnight harvest. She would pluck a basketful of tomatoes that were tugging at the vines and grazing the moist dirt below. The Serrano peppers would be swaying in the breeze as if wanting to chime like bells on the veranda. It was indeed summer and spring was leaving behind the last of the wild berries that grew up against the fence. The old wooden fence where you could occasionally catch a glimpse of our neighbor’s dog’s eyes glaring at you in the sun. I avoided getting to close to that fence in fear of shrilling barks being directed my way with great force–and laced with disdain and contempt for my existence. That is what I knew of dogs then, not now.
I remember only having a few strawberries to eat from those bushes because they didn’t produce much fruit and I’m not sure why. But it may have something to do with the local plants in Oak Ridge contaminating our water supply, I kid, we had much supply of vegetables that never lacked the ambition of sprouting forth–only the strawberries. I was a lover of strawberries when I was a child but I was a meticulous eater of sorts, only chasing the lush red fruit and leaving the slightly bitter and tangy hull behind. This relationship was and is still the same with many other fruits today, don’t judge, you simply like what you like and we are who we are.
In my family, I simply can’t recall anyone ever macerating strawberries or fruit. It just wasn’t ‘a thing’ in my family. My mother and Nanny both used the gelatin in a tub when making desserts if Nanny wasn’t putting it in Jell-O mold for a church potluck. My father’s mother was the rinse and eat from the pint kind’ve of woman, and the resident baker, my cousin Carnell would typically bake them into a cake that would be lathered with strawberry frosting. It wasn’t until my mother in-law came into the picture some eleven years later that I would actually know and love the art of macerated strawberries. I’m sure I came across it in some format or another throughout culinary school but nothing that stuck like when the MIL made them.
There’s nothing like strawberries in season that will create a flutter in your heart and an excitement of your palate when you bend down to pluck it fresh from the vine. The experience of that tender bite kissed by sun, releasing that sweet juice into your mouth and without warning the corners of your lips begin to curl up the sides and you’re smiling ‘something serious’ that just can’t be contained. The strawberries you’re feasting your eyes upon in the post today are from the lovely folks at Delvin Farms and some from the folks at Kelley’s Berry Farm. I won’t lie to you I picked both of them up at East Nashville Farmer’s Market because I like to spread the love event though I occasionally have my bias depending upon the product. But I couldn’t fight the urge to have these berries in snacking distance so I sat them in the front seat, and if you know anything about Nashville traffic, it’s a nightmare. I came to an abrupt stop and the berries began to cascade in slow motion through the air and onto my ‘freshly cleaned’ car floor (wink). Well, there was no way I would be able to separate them and I don’t think the berries minded being blended so everyone was happy and now we’re spreading the love for two companies, so win win.
As you all know it’s kind’ve of a pain in the roo to put recipes into a formatted display in which you can just scroll down to the bottom and make it. I’m a talker and I’m going to tell you what to do to have this deliciousness in your mouth sooner than later. Not to mention, I love that it encourages you guys to actually read the content though I know there are those of you who hate it (sorry, not sorry)!
All you need are some fresh local strawberries or some Driscoll’s or whatever store brand you can get your hands on will work. I know that I caught you kind of late with this post because strawberry season has ended for us here but you may be lucky. And be warned that most mass producers pick strawberries before they’re ready so macerating them is never a bad option. Always rinse your strawberries off unless you have a little country in you, like myself, then you eat them in the car on the way home from the market. Cut the berries into whatever size you prefer and toss them in to a couple of tablespoons of granulated white sugar. I recommend two tablespoons of sugar per pint of berries you have. Toss the berries in the sugar to give them an even coating in a bowl that’s not metal. Let them set in the refrigerator for about 20-30 minutes occasionally giving them a little stir to insure that the sugar is completely dissolved. Once you have a nice syrup in the bottom and fruit has weeped just a little, you have a perfect bowl of macerated strawberries ready to be devoured. This is great to do with your kids, it makes the perfect topping for a slice of cake or a scoop of ice cream and this process also works well with peaches, plums, pineapple etc. And if you desire to use raspberries or blackberries you’ll want to crush some of the fruit to encourage juicing.
You can find this recipe on Steller Stories and please follow along for quick recipes and creative happenings in my life. I really hope you guys enjoy and I’d love to hear what you’re doing with your seasonal fruits!
Charles I had a chuckle when I read that you could not recall anyone in your family “macerating” fruit! My mother and grandmother and aunts all did it, but no one called it that! Macerating was not on the vocabulary horizon at all. But we did eat freshly picked berries just a bit smashed with a sprinkling of sugar left to sit to allow the berries to release their juices. We now have such a large food vocabulary that we do indeed “mascerate” often! And with gusto. Great post and story Charles as always. T
Its kind of crazy because at some point I’m sure it took place but I didn’t think to acknowledge it. And probably because I was too busy indulging in whatever the fruit was for. Because we know how I feel about dessert! Thanks for stopping by Teresa!