Ode to the Strawberry

I have honored my strawberries.

Well, they weren’t mine in that I didn’t grow them. I bought them from lovely Seedling Pete, grower of amazing fruit in Southern Michigan. By the cuff of Michigan, his farm sits.

And his strawberries are ripe and delicious. They inspire.

Most recently, they inspired me to make a gigantic frozen daiquiri with a dollop of whip.

It was as delicious as it was declasse. Only, like a white bread tomato sandwich, a properly white trashy strawberry daiquiri is a right of Summer. And note, I wrote right and not rite.

Because I believe that if you eat unprocessed foods, you can eat whatever you want, as long as it isn’t the garbagey crap our Corporatacray serves up in florescent-lit grocery aisle across America.

So, the whipped cream-topped frozen Strawberry Daiquiri is right.

This is how you make it:
First, make bottled strawberries in syrup, raw-pack. You should know that the Canning Matrons don’t allow raw-pack strawberries. But strawberries, to be as delicious as possible, need to be dealt with carefully and processed minimally. So, I don’t heat process my strawberries prior to packing and I don’t process my jam after canning it.

One experience with heat is all my strawberries ever have to deal with.

And, lo, I am still alive. More importantly, my middle of winter Strawberry Daiquiries and Strawberry Shortcakes are a thing of great beauty. (yours?)

So, back to the drink. Raw-pack strawberries, just dump the half pint jar in the Vitamix (thanks Alice). Add a solid couple shots of rum and a shot of Grand Marnier. Add some lime juice, some lime zest if you aren’t too tired or hot, and a pack in pile of ice. Blend. Pour into glass. Top with some whipped cream.

Yes, damn it, enjoy the strawberry harvest fully and whip cream it up.

This is the thing: you’ve bottled strawberries and if you are like me, you bottled somewheres around 24 jars. That’s two strawberry daiquiries per month. Delicious, local, real, white trashy blended strawberry daiquiries with whipped cream. Two per month to last a year.

People who really love food — not foodies, who are eye-rollingly ridiculous —appreciate the simplest things in their purest forms. They aren’t embarrassed by a whipped cream-topped frozen strawberry daiquiries.

They realize that iconic recipes are something to rediscover. And they seek to discover them.

I bought two flats of strawberries. So, I’ll share that I started some strawberry wine, made jam, enjoyed a fresh strawberry milkshake and also ate a bunch out of hand.

My mom took home some strawberries, which made me happy since she eats a lot of scary Driscoll dreck. I don’t think their deliciousness will encourage her to stop buying out of season strawberries, though I can’t imagine why.

With the last of my strawberries, I made a new take on strawberry shortcake that was so good I started thinking I needed to get more strawberries.

Fresh strawberries, sliced and macerated in a little brown sugar atop a freshly baked biscuit with whipped sheep’s milk ricotta and a drizzle of Pepe Nero syrup. I tried a Whole Foods pre-made biscuit, on the advice of a friend. Surprise! It sucked! I am reconsidering that friendship. To honor the strawberry, make a biscuit fresh. Pepe Nero syrup is made by reducing Goose Island Pepe Nero and then stirring in a bunch of sugar while it is hot. Whipped sheep’s milk ricotta is whipped with some cream. Please if you make this, invite me over.

I can’t imagine I’ll get sick strawberries by the time the cherries start rolling in. Any day now.