I was around 10 when my father sold his business in Wilmington, CA and we took our first family road trip: to Utah and Wyoming, visiting my parents’ birthplaces. It was a trip I’ll never forget for many reasons. On the way we stopped in Springville, UT to visit my Uncle Wes and Aunt Rena. The raspberries were “on”, they said, and I got my first introduction to the delicacy of raspberries and cream. The memory of that exquisite flavor and texture is still clear fifty years later. Today I live in Utah, grow my own raspberries, and look forward each spring to the time they come “on”.
Raspberries are delicate. Picking them can be tedious, and sometimes prickly. But, they are amazing. I once read: “Eating raspberries is like having a hundred tiny cat paws walk on your tongue.” I wouldn’t want to be eating cat, but those delicious little raspberry paws, bursting with tangy juice, are sort of like that.
Sadly, raspberry season has come and gone this year, but I enjoyed it by the handful between the bushes in the early mornings. I turned them into jam and smoothies, ice cream and shortcake, and savored a few bowls with cream.
Summer tastes like many things. I’d hate to narrow it down to my favorite, but I can no longer imagine summer without raspberries. They’re just too darn good.
tasteswrite 