Lately, the little one and I have been going through strawberries at a rate of about one pound per day.
This takes place mostly at breakfast when we eat them over yogurt (me) or speared on the end of a tiny fork and paired with a chaser of milk (him). And, in case you are wondering, at 22 months his appetite matches mine berry for berry.
A week ago we bought a big flat of strawberries at the farmers market and then, last weekend, we went to the fields and picked some ourselves.
Picking strawberries has always been a favorite springtime ritual and I was excited to share it with E., who wasted no time filling his bucket with ripe, red specimens.
I expected his haul to be full of either under or overripe fruit, but he took his job very seriously, carefully pushing aside leaves to seek out the best berries then calling out “nice one!” before freeing each new find from its stem.
In the end, we picked nearly 10 pounds of berries. Even our berry-laden breakfasts aren’t enough to make it through that much fruit before spoilage sets in, so I pulled out the jam pot and got to work….
