If there is one thing I dislike more than orange or banana-flavored anything, it’s strawberry-flavored anything. Ice cream, yogurt, lollipops, cream cheese, Pop-Tarts, pies, jams, etc. If it’s strawberry-flavoured, I steer clear of it. Or nibble very politely.
Which is bizarre, considering I love strawberries. Strawberries are delicious. And nutritious. And just plain wonderful. It turns out I simply like them in their original form only.
I have many memories of accompanying my mom to the local strawberry patch where my brothers and I would spend our morning, kneeling on straw-covered mounds, soaking the knees of our jeans and filling our buckets and stomachs with the gorgeous, ruby-red fruit. Gorgeous/gorging, same thing when it comes to strawberries.
Once back home, we’d spend equal time hulling the berries, again eating half of our spoils and leaving Mom with a quarter of our morning’s work to freeze as jam or make into pies. We’d have strawberry shortcake and strawberries with Cool Whip and strawberries with ice cream and strawberries on our cereal. We ate a lot of strawberries as children.
And, June always was a strawberry good time.
Speaking of June, if you’re anywhere within a 1 million-mile radius of Pandora, Ohio, drive over to Suter’s Produce and help yourself to the tastiest strawberries you’ll ever eat.
Really. Tastiest. Do it now.