Finally. At last. After a whole year of waiting. Local strawberries are here. I know, I know, I suggested using California ones a couple weeks ago for chocolate fondue. But now the real things are here and we don’t have to use an acceptable but less-than-perfect substitute.
So what makes strawberries romantic? IMO, it’s shape, color, and taste. Not to mention the symbolism of wearing your fertility on your sleeve, so to speak, by having the seeds on the outside. The luscious berry is shaped like a heart (or some say a uterus but I’m in the heart camp), it’s the color of passion and tastes sweet, juicy and just-like-summer. What’s not romantic about that?
And it is a member of the rose family. Now that beats the nightshade family member the tomato by a ton, doesn’t it?
Enough of writing about it. I’m off to the store to see if I can find any local berries. And I’ll share my favorite–and most romantic way–to serve them on Friday.
