RJ, the RLA and I (MJ bailed ‘cause he didn’t think the RLA was coming) went down to the u-pic fields this morning. It’s getting harder and harder to find them, even in the most South Western nooks and crannies of Dade County. Instead of spreading green fields of tomatoes, strawberries and corn, or groves of mangoes, limes and avocados, there are town houses and estate homes. The RLA and I call them mushroom houses, because it seems like after every hard rain, a circle of them sprout up.
They have names like Mediterraneo and Vizcaya, but people, half a million price tag or no, they are still on Krome Avenue, west of which is only the tail end of the Everglades, and they are still in the middle of the great unwashed. I didn’t see a Neiman’s or even a Macy’s in those enormous strip malls today, but there was one each of BJ’s Wholesale Club, Super Wal-Mart, Max’s Something or Other denoting enormous quantities, and Costco. There were Targets and Home Depots and every other variety of big-box supercenters, and maybe two or three u-pics tucked in like stubborn stains of green on the other-wise beige knees of commerce. Or something like that.
Anyway. I have in my possession a vast quantity of small, green tomatoes, and in less than 6 weeks, they will be the best green tomato pickles you or anyone else has ever wrapped a lip around. I say you, because I won’t eat them. Nasty little things, I think. But my Daddy loved them, the RLA loves them, and even my neighbors come sniffing around the old Casa de Zapatas’ kitchen when it’s little green tomato season. RJ makes a delicious poached salmon. Everyone says so. It could be Moon Dirt for all she’ll taste it. Cooks. What rhyme or reason is there to us?
RJ went home with fresh broccoli and cauliflower, peppers, tomatoes and strawberries.
I also have several pounds of strawberries. Once you start to pick them, you can’t stop, so the only thing you can do is make jam or pie or just lie around naked and eat them fresh from a bowl with only a little bit of sweet whipped cream for dipping them. Not that I have ever done that, I’m just saying.
There is a recipe for strawberry pie waiting for me in the kitchen. I’m going to try a gingersnap crust I think, instead of a regular pie crust. I’ll post photos and results.
(updated Monday morning to add)
There is also a recipe for strawberry bread. And there may or may not be strawberry daquiris with the left overs. We’ll see how that shakes out. Shakes. Strawberry milkshakes….
When I was just a little shoe, there was a book I read over and over, partly because I liked the book partly because it took place in pioneer Florida and my mummy and daddy were children here then, and partly because I liked the illustrations. I wonder if it’s still in print?