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Thursday, June 05, 2003

By Ervin Dyer, Post-Gazette Staff Writer

I've never been to a field of strawberries. Still, for me, thoughts of the succulent spring fruit are forever.

Memories of strawberries always remind me of the sweet warm-weather visits to my grandmother's farm -- a 27-acre quilt of red dirt, blue sky and yellow corn.

Grandma died 30 years ago, and I haven't been to the farm in a decade, but you say strawberry and my childhood reminiscences pop up as rosy as the fruit itself.

It wasn't easy finding strawberries at Grandma's place.

They were not in a garden or neatly cultured in some bright patch.

But they were around. You smelled them before you saw them.

Wild and uncultivated, they grew in strips and scraps. The fruit popped up in sun-soaked parcels in the woodlands, secreted in abandoned gardens near the henhouses or dangled along the side of the mud path.

Those on the mud path were popular. They turned a dusty passage to my cousins' home into an afternoon delight.

By the time my brothers and sisters and I finished the 10-minute walk, our hands and clothing would be speckled red from stuffing so many wild strawberries into our pockets.

Many we washed and ate outright. Others, which got more squashed, were turned into strawberry wine. At least, that's what we called the harmless concoction we made from bruised fruit, tap water and white sugar. Shaken, not stirred, the drink -- cooled with ice -- was a refreshing treat.

But that's just child's play.

For a real treat, we carried our find to Grandma.

Her name was Susie. My father's mother was a gentle soul; she always sat in a high-back rocker next to her wood-burning pot-bellied stove.

The kitchen was the heart of her home, and she worked magic in her old black pots.

She turned apples into fritters.

She turned lemons into pie.

And, she turned strawberries into smiles.

She'd take our rouge-colored booty and turn it into homemade strawberry pie or shortcake with strawberries. Or, if she were making ice cream, she'd let us churn the berries into the cream for a tasty, cool repast.

As I got older, my love of strawberries continued.

I've made apple pie, spiced with sliced strawberries. I cut up strawberries for an added touch in my vegetarian chili.

For breakfast, I drop overly ripe strawberries in juice or low-fat milk and spin it around in the blender for a fast shake.

And, for a quick pick-me-up during strawberry season, I often stop in the grocery and pick up the golden angel-food cups that can be easily filled with strawberries. It's not homemade, but it's good.