It's Strawberry Season

I’ll be honest—it’s been nice being able to get set up for market as customers queue up. It took a global pandemic to keep early birds from interrupting our set up time. Each and every vendor has a Sunday morning routine. We mimic a strange game of Tetris with vendors arriving, unloading, and setting up tents, tables, signage, transaction equipment, and most importantly, our own grocery shopping. What? You think we shop at grocery stores? Yes, I’ve been spotted at Balducci’s on several occasions, but they have capers and my favorite mortadella from my deli days I can’t find anywhere else.

The first customers in line at the market are usually the same cast of characters. I love how during inclement weather patrons leave a line of market bags, baskets, totes, and even flip flops to mark their place in line. At 9 AM when market opens everyone has their casual routine, acknowledging their regulars with either stop to shop or greeting as they pass by. Patrons span out through all the vendors throughout the market.

But last week there was no denying that practically every single person standing in line to enter the market was also going straight for the strawberries. They’ve been here for three weeks. The first week when the southernmost growers arrived they’re sold out within the first 90 minutes of the opening. That first week customers thought to themselves, “Oh, berries are in season. I’ll get some next week.”  Week #2 of strawberry season precipitated the lament, “Oh, I should have gone to the strawberry stand first,” as customers who stuck to their normal routines visited their usual vendors in succession before attempting to purchase strawberries.

By week #3 no one was taking any chances. There are ten vendors between the entrance to the market and the first strawberry stand. Comedic laughter passed among the vendors as we all watched the stampede and ultimate backup (also ten stands deep) as everyone patiently waited in line for their chance at the first sweet colorful tastes of a changing season. I’d be lying if I said the thought didn’t pass my mind, “I’ve already got mine.”

Watching as patrons balanced an entire flat of strawberries for a quick stroll back to their vehicle, I posed the question to my regulars when they returned as to what they planned to do with all those fresh strawberries.

“Make jam.”

“Puree and freeze.”

“Make pies.”

“Smoothies.”

“Ice cream.”

But the guy who won my heart ten times over was the one who said he was going to make strawberry shortcake for the entire neighborhood. “It’s been a helluva year. Every bit of kindness helps,” he added while gathering his weekly order and restoring my faith in humanity.

Because of the experience and professionalism of all our vendors selling strawberries at the market, no one had to stand in line for long, efficiency being the key. Within a few more week the market will be flooded with strawberries and as the season wanes the northernmost vendors will complete the season. My guess is a similar routine will commence as each fruit appears at market.

I don’t blame a single customer for heading straight for the strawberry stand. When I was growing up and then after I returned home an annual ritual with my parents was going out to the Barnitz United Methodist Church’s strawberry festival where families from the region gathered to feast on all things strawberry at community tables. There were large bowls of freshly sliced strawberries with an assortment of shortcakes, whipped cream, liquid cream, ice cream, and chocolate sauce to go with them.

It’s been years since I’ve stood in line for strawberry shortcake and knowing this year it’s probably not going to happen I decided to have my own strawberry festival at home.  It started out with shortcake recipe from the New York Times I’ve kept folded and stashed in the cupboard with the rest of my trusted recipes throughout the years.  Unlike the Times, I don’t mess with the orange zest, tea or cooking the fruit—I go straight for plain, sliced berries with a few that have been macerated to release their natural juices.  For the whipped cream topping I also deviate from the recipe doing something those sweet Methodist ladies would never do. I add a touch bourbon along with vanilla bean paste and skip the sugar letting the sweetness of the berries themselves carry the dessert. After spending time as a dessert plater at a fine dining establishment in my college days I always fan a capped berry on the top out of habit. It doesn’t get more perfect.

So remember for the coming weeks if you want fresh berries, get to market early, and go straight to the vendors who sell berries before anyone else or you’ll be shorted on your shortcake.