Boxcar Kitchen

At the start of the month, I made myself a birthday mascarpone cheesecake and piled it high with raspberries and red and white currents. (The pictures didn't come out all too good so I will spare you the creamy looking mess.) I think the fruit vs. other ingredients cost ratio was just a little bit off but my rational was that it was my birthday and that the berries were the last of the season. At least that is what I thought.

Continuing my one year old tradition, last weekend I dragged my baskets and husband out to Gally for some apple picking. I think I have mentioned my love of gathering apples. I love tromping through the muddy fields chomping on different varieties to the point of almost sickness. There is always the crisp smell of decaying leaves and the chilly autumn breeze making for a postcard experience.

So after grabbing our stuff, I ran to check the board of ripe fruit and vegetables. Raspberries were settled smugly at the top of the list and I couldn't help but doubt the validity of the board. I had already tried to get raspberries this past summer but the July heat wave had wiped everything out. Talk about dashed dreams; move over ''Raisin in the Sun''.

I followed the signs leading back to the patch, stopping along the way to eat some fresh green beans dirt and all. Dirt is good; I'm sorry. I love me an earthy carrot every now and then. Long story short, the farmer had not been lying. The raspberry bushes were packed with big juicy abundant berries and apparently the other picker's mothers never clued them in on the secret of lifting up the branches to get the best hidden sweet ones.

In under a half hour I had 2 quarts and a sunburn (well almost). The chilly breeze was nowhere to be found and our wooly sweaters were just a memory- a rumpled pile on the ground. Our hands bursting with red fruit, we headed off to the orchard in search of more treasures.