No, not the “PBBHHHTTTT!!!” kind, either.
Leigh and I, aside from being avid foodies, are also locavores. In other words we try very hard to eat where we live. We belong to a local family farm’s CSA, frequent farmer’s markets for produce, local cage free eggs, free range meat, etc.
This past weekend a neighbor called and basically ordered use to PLEASE come pick some raspberries. They simply couldn’t pick or eat the ones now ripened on the cluster of bushes fast enough and she hated to see them just grow over ripe and rot.
We were there in the time it took you to read this sentence describing how long it took for us to get there.
They were ripe. And damn! We picked nonstop for an hour and there were still berries left after we scored almost 10 free quarts of organic raspberries.
As I was picking them I had the most unusual thought, which for me is really saying something – The similarities between picking a ripe raspberry and playing with a woman’s nipples are uncanny (horrible canning joke).
(Note – the remainder of this musing is filled with double entendre as to whether I am talking about produce or sexual organs. If you find yourself smirking or giggling, well I warned you.)
For starters, choosing which ones are ripe enough. They bruise easily with too much pressure. You have to ever so gently squeeze it to see if its firm. Eyesight does help as far as which ones are ready. Color is key. The ones you want are red, full of life, sweet as sunshine, but not so ripe that they appear to have been ignored for far too long.
Once you’ve selected which one you want, your fingertips will tell you more. Does it twist easily when its rolled in between two or more fingers? You have to be careful to not squeeze too hard or you’ll end up disappointed. Its a balancing act between force and control, pressure and torque. If you are careful in how you approach them, you’ll be rewarded for your methodical efforts when you bring it to your lips.
Its then that all the care and precision pays off with that oh so sweet sensation when it passes through your lips. Never bite down hard on one. Its far better to take it and, with your tongue, press it up against the roof of your mouth. Now gently press it captive between the two. Taste that sweetness? Savor it, don’t be in a hurry to draw it in any further. Take as long as you want and just suck on it. When you’re done, you can always do it again. And again. And again some more.
It took me an hour to finish with the ones I was presented with. My fingers were sore from the hundreds and hundreds of ripe choices they made, my mouth awash in sweetness from all that licking and sucking.
Now what to do with this barren bush?