Strawberry Fields Forever
Sunday (yeah, I know, it's a little late for a recap of Sunday) we schlepped to Indiana, the better to pick our own strawberries. The good parts: the strawberries ROCK. They're red all the way through, and sweet, and juicy, and omygod. I've been eating about two pints/day, and this morning I froze the rest of them (about 12 cups, 2-cups/bag). The downside, however, was bringing along the stepkid. In part the trip was for his edumacation--he needs to know more about where his food is from--but he had a predictable response and probably picked about 10 berries total. ("No, I don't need to go to the bathroom" while we're in the part of the establishment that has a bathroom, then, of course, a half-hour later, "I have to go to the bathroom and I don't want to use the portapotty because it'll smell bad.") C wasn't very enthusiastic, either, which I can sort of understand--it IS backbreaking work--not least because he's not that big a fan of strawberries. He likes them okay, but he doesn't love them the way I do. As a result, we only picked about 3 buckets' worth, rather than the 6 or so I would have picked if I'd had my druthers (pick 6, pay for 5 was the deal). So next year, I'm (a) bringing people who love them as much as I do, so we can (b) pick as many as possible and then (c) spend the next day cleaning and freezing them in mass quantities. B has a truck--I bet we can fit a LOT in there.