Where I live in southwestern Michigan it’s time for fruit and veggie stands to crop up, almost as plentiful as weeds but much more appreciated. Already asparagus has come and gone, and now it’s strawberries’ turn.
For the past week or so, we have been inundated with the homegrown, sweet, red fruit. Within walking distance of my home is a patch where you can pick your own or purchase quarts of ready-picked beautiful berries. However, I came by mine free via a friend who got more than she could handle.
So Earl and I have been eating strawberries for almost a week. Tonight, we had them for dinner. Under the adage that “Life is short so eat dessert first,” we dined on strawberry shortcake as our entrée. It was delicious and also reminiscent.
We recalled that Earl’s mother made strawberry shortcake using those round spongy mattress-like things you buy at a supermarket. I assume she added the requisite berries and whipped cream and did the entire thing in about five minutes. He loved every bite back then.
My mother, on the other hand, was a purist. Well, almost a purist. She used hot biscuits with butter as her base. I must admit she didn’t make the biscuits from scratch, but I never noticed. What I did notice was that her strawberry shortcake blended a warm buttery taste with a cold sugary flavor topped with whipped cream. And I make mine the way she did.
Which is what I did tonight. We sat on the patio in the cool evening and ate our dinner and recalled our mothers’ methods. I suspect both would have approved, even if neither of them would have offered dessert for the main course.
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