A few years ago, as we were coming off the Appalachian Trail in NC, my older son and I ran into a patch of the most savorous wild strawberries. (That expression always makes me think of Ingmar Bergman!) I took six plants, a small number that would not impact their existence in the mountains. I planted them at home where they have reproduced well.
This year, the exceptionally cold winter must have revived their ancestral urges because they produced like crazy. Enough to share with my neighbors and enough to make ...(semi) wild strawberry jam.
Being appalled, as usual, by the amount of sugar those recipes require, I cut it in half which left me with a runnier finished product but a totally amazing, ultimate STRAWBERRY FLAVOR!
And, now, my next berries are getting ready. Those will not be brought into the kitchen
They will be appreciated, right there in the garden ...from vine to palate!
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