Listen up, kids, because the following is the most important recipe you're likely to read this side of strawberry season. (Note that this post assumes residence in northern New England. If you live elsewhere, consult your own fruit-season calendar to determine if and when you may make good use of the information below).
STRAWBERRIES WITH STRAWBERRIES
Go out and pick three (3) pints of strawberries, preferrably unsullied by chemical pesticides or fertilizers. If you have a good excuse for not picking your own, you may purchase fresh-picked, local strawberries. DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, SETTLE FOR STYROFOAM STRAWBERRIES SHIPPED FROM CALIFORNIA, CHILE, OR ANY DISTANCE GREATER THAN TWENTY (20) MILES. If you insist on making a mockery of strawberry season like that, I insist on mocking you.
You may eat a few of the strawberries on the way home.
Once you get home, wash and pat-dry all of the strawberries. Pick out and set aside one-third (1/3) of the strawberries that are less than absolutely perfect: the bruised, the overripe, the not ripe enough, etc.
Take the mostly perfect remaining two-thirds (2/3) of the strawberries and trim off the stems. You may eat any excess strawberry meat that comes off with the stems. You may slice particularly large strawberries into bite-sized pieces. If in this process you bruise a strawberry or otherwise feel so inclined, you may eat it.
Put all (all) of the trimmed, mostly perfect strawberries in a large bowl. The bowl may be aesthetically pleasing, but that is a personal decision. You may not eat the mostly perfect strawberries at this point.
Take the mostly imperfect strawberries and trim off the stems. If they aren't gross, you may eat any excess strawberry meat that comes off with the stems. Put the trimmed, imperfect strawberries in a blender with a small (small) amount of sugar. I used less than a quarter of a cup (1/4 cup) last night and it all worked out just fine—maybe even a little too sweet. I would have used maple syrup but did not want the purée to be too liquidy. You may experiment, within reason. In any case, purée the imperfect strawberries with the sugar. (Note: if you do not have a blender, experiment with a potato masher or a mortar and pestle. I offer no guarantees, but who knows? It might be better that way.)
Pour the imperfect strawberry purée over the mostly perfect strawberries in your aesthetically pleasing or not bowl. Stir well enough to make sure all the mostly perfect strawberries are covered but gently enough not to damage them. YOU MAY NOT EAT THE STRAWBERRIES AT THIS POINT. You may, however, lick the spatula you used to get at every last drop of the imperfect strawberry purée.
Set the mixture aside for long enough to consider it respectably marinated. Usually this is the length of one (1) meal, but time varies. My mother insists it must marinate overnight, but bribery helps.
Meanwhile, focus on whipping cream. Whipped cream is not absolutely essential to accompany strawberries with strawberries, as the concoction is (obviously) perfect as is. However, strawberries with strawberries with whipped cream do combine quite well. DO NOT, UNDER ANY CIRCUMSTANCES, THINK YOU CAN GET AWAY WITH STORE-BOUGHT, PRESSURIZED WHIPPED-CREAM-IN-A-CAN. Whip your own cream, preferrably straight from the cow—but we can make an exception if you insist. Best to use a wee (wee) bit of maple syrup to sweeten the cream.
Serve generous portions of strawberries with strawberries with equally generous dollops of fresh whipped cream if so desired. Eat. Enjoy.
The above recipe is a Plausible Story family tradition. I believe my mother pilfered some version of it from a magazine in the 1970s, likely the Sunday New York Times. Any resemblance to the original recipe, living or otherwise, is likely a coincidence. If you think you spot a similarity, have a strawberry. Also, I apologize for not providing photographic evidence of the strawberries with strawberries construction process. By the time I thought of it, all the strawberries had been consumed.
