Chocolate Covered Strawberries

I recently attended a community event, where my table as a vendor was positioned right across the aisle from a vendor who was selling strawberries dipped in chocolate.  I had no sooner arrived and set up my display, when a man with whom I am acquainted…and who is a real character….approached.  He started joking with me about the position of my table and the temptation to spend the day gorging myself on chocolate covered strawberries.  I pointed out that while I was just across the aisle, I would have to walk quite a distance around several tables to get to the chocolate covered strawberries.

My “friend” apparently didn’t want me to have to surmount this barrier in order to indulge myself.  He walked right up to the display of chocolate covered strawberries, picked up an entire tray, and more or less stuck it under my nose.  I, of course, caved in, took one of the luscious looking berries and gave him the 50 cents to take back to the vendor.

That was an amusing start to the day.  But, as the day progressed I was horrified with what I saw the dipper-of-strawberries doing.  She did NOT wear any gloves while she dipped the berries.  She handled the money and went back to dipping berries without washing her hands.  She cleaned off the chocolaty spoon with her fingers.  She dropped the papers on which she was placing the berries on the floor, picked them up and used them.  As she spread out the papers, she licked her fingers in order to separate the papers.  AND between dipping berries, SHE LICKED THE CHOCOLATE OFF HER FINGERS!!!!

The vendors on either side of me were raising their eyebrows and guessing what would happen if someone from the state health department happened in.

I was reminded of the 3 months of psychiatric nursing experience I had at Chicago State Hospital many years ago.  We students lived on the grounds and ate in the hospital’s cafeteria, which was staffed in part by patients.  One day as I stood in line, I had a view back into the kitchen.  There a patient was placing dollops of butter on little square cardboards.  As she spread out the cardboards on the tray, she licked her fingers to help in separating the cards.  I did not eat any butter the rest of the time I was there.  Most of us gained weight during that 3 month experience, because we figured out that the baked goods came sealed in plastic from an outside source.  If someone was licking things, at least we didn’t know it.  Ignorance is bliss.

Chocolate covered strawberries are also bliss, but I will not be eating any if I attend that event again!

Strawberries Fields

Oh, what a glorious June day, I thought.  The sky is blue, the sun is shining, a gentle breeze is blowing and the newspaper says the U-pick strawberry fields are open!

I had something I needed to do this morning, so as soon as we finished lunch, I hopped in the car with a very large plastic bowl and a roasting pan.  If you bring your own container to the strawberry field, they weigh it on the way in and on the way out, and you pay by the pound.

The first fields I saw were full of weeds, and I felt a bit concerned about the U-pick business I had chosen to go to.  However, those of us ready to pick climbed on a wagon behind a tractor and had a slow bumpy ride nearly a half mile back from the road to a wonderful field with few weeds and loads of juicy red strawberries.  It took me a few minutes to find an area that had not been picked in yet, but once I found it, I was able to pick large handfuls each time I bent or squatted down.  This is important once you are in your 60s.  You don’t want to be squatting down for just one berry.  Each squat or bend needs to be maximally productive.

That lovely sun was pretty hot and the breeze wasn’t quite as breezy as I had thought, so I soon had perspiration running down my face and off my chin.  For the most part, I ignored it.  My minor discomfort made me think, however, about what it would be like to be a migrant worker and have to pick all day.  I decided I was too old to take on berry picking as a second career.

I had to get over my distress at the fact that it was impossible not to step on a berry occasionally.  I found many stepped on by others before me and did my share of squashing too.

When I first saw the fields, I noticed daisies growing wild in the vicinity, and I thought about picking a bouquet.  But, by the time my two containers were heaped, I had no desire to do anything but catch the wagon ride back to the weighing station and my car.  I hoped no one was looking as I tried to stand up with the bowl under one arm and the roasting pan under the other.  I guess I haven’t done deep knee bends often enough to keep myself in shape.  It was a struggle to stand up with the additional weight and no use of my arms to push off.  Note to self:  next time take a container with a handle…a small pail perhaps.

When I got home, I filled seven plastic containers….five for neighbors, one for my father-in-law and one for my daughter and her kids.  After delivering those, I somewhat ambitiously decided that I had the energy to make some strawberry jam with the rest of the berries.  Fifteen jars of jam, a very messy range top, and a sticky kitchen floor later, there were still about three quarts of berries left.  Those are now in the refrigerator.  Tomorrow…..

I am tired, my back aches, and my clothes are berry-stained and sticky.

Oh, what a glorious June day!