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How the Strawberry Became an Earthly Delight
How did a fragile delicacy become one of the most dependable fruits?
There are three types of strawberries in my life.
The first is a charlatan. I have a rather untamed yard, and “wild strawberries” are one of the weeds that have made their way in — though “weed” is a mean name for a plant that’s minding its own business, trying to stay alive just like me. Wild strawberries look in most ways to be a hardy miniature version of the real thing. The leaves, runners, and fruit are all similar. What could be better — a freely forage-able fruit! But, as I found out to our disappointment when I sampled them, they’re not great eating, somewhere between bland and bitter. In fact, they’re not even really strawberries: they’re considered “mock strawberries,” the cruel tricksters.
The second grows in my garden, and it’s one of the things I most look forward to in the summer. I share these strawberries with the birds and other animals, which means that I don’t get very many of them (it’s less of a strawberry harvest than a little snack when I’m out there working). The fruit’s fragility means that I lose a lot of them to rot, as well — if it’s too wet or too hot or too anything, they tend to get mushy and gross. But when I get a good one, there are few things better — it’s so sweet and…
