Saturday, May 9, 2009
When my sisters & I were little, growing up outside of Chicago, there was a hedge of red raspberry bushes between our house and our neighbor's house. Seeing things through the eyes & mind of a child, we were convinced that these neighbors were mean and hated us.
Why? Because technically, they were the neighbor's bushes. And we stole them. Shamelessly, deliberately stole them (the berries, not the bushes). Hey, even though the neighbors planted them & the bushes were on their property, you know what? A whole side of those red jewels were facing our yard, and we figured they would never know if that side of the bushes never seemed to bear fruit. They couldn't pick them without coming into our yard anyway, and that would be trespassing, right? And they couldn't go to waste, so every summer, our fingers & lips & chins bore the telltale signs of wanton berry theft. And sometimes the neighbors would yell at us. Well, maybe they really didn't, but that's how I remember it. They were mean.
To this day, raspberries taste of summer and memories, 2 of my favorite flavors. So, when I was at the Price Club today (I know it's really Costco, but I called it the Price Club for too long), these beckoned me, and I could not resist their siren call. Guess what was for dinner tonight? A bowl of these sweet, juicy beauties and a piece of peanut butter toast (whole wheat bread and natural peanut butter). It was a feast.