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Taste memories
Aug. 4th, 2014 03:42 pmSomewhere between six months and a year ago, frozen raspberries went on sale at Brazos Natural Foods, and I bought some.
Raspberries don't grow anywhere around here, so frozen ones are one of the more viable options for the occasional raspberry fix.
They sat, frozen, up until Saturday, when long-hatched plans at last reached fruition, and I made, once again, Fran Bigelow's Framboise Torte recipe. It involves pureeing the thawed raspberries and sugar, then straining the lot and adding a tablespoon of Grand Marnier:
A sufficiently extravagant recipe that I don't make it frequently (it uses three-quarters of a pound of butter). Fortunately, with the new housemates, I'll have plenty of help with eating it up.
Opening the package of raspberries and tasting some of the spilled drips instantly transported me back to Loudwater Farm on the Olympic Peninsula last summer, where I was given the gift of as many raspberries as I could possibly eat and use:
The farmer at Loudwater, who grew up there and shows no signs of ever leaving. Good for her, I say. I wouldn't leave, either.
I just have to keep savoring all those memories this year. I'm also bound and determined to get in some outdoors-time while in the Pacific Northwest in November. Hey, maybe more campgrounds will be cleared out by then, with people avoiding the inclement weather by hunkering indoors.
PS - In writing this post, I discovered that I never uploaded the full photo set from this trip. Photos are now all in their own album, here. Sorry the narratives aren't that great.
Raspberries don't grow anywhere around here, so frozen ones are one of the more viable options for the occasional raspberry fix.
They sat, frozen, up until Saturday, when long-hatched plans at last reached fruition, and I made, once again, Fran Bigelow's Framboise Torte recipe. It involves pureeing the thawed raspberries and sugar, then straining the lot and adding a tablespoon of Grand Marnier:
A sufficiently extravagant recipe that I don't make it frequently (it uses three-quarters of a pound of butter). Fortunately, with the new housemates, I'll have plenty of help with eating it up.
Opening the package of raspberries and tasting some of the spilled drips instantly transported me back to Loudwater Farm on the Olympic Peninsula last summer, where I was given the gift of as many raspberries as I could possibly eat and use:
The farmer at Loudwater, who grew up there and shows no signs of ever leaving. Good for her, I say. I wouldn't leave, either.
I just have to keep savoring all those memories this year. I'm also bound and determined to get in some outdoors-time while in the Pacific Northwest in November. Hey, maybe more campgrounds will be cleared out by then, with people avoiding the inclement weather by hunkering indoors.
PS - In writing this post, I discovered that I never uploaded the full photo set from this trip. Photos are now all in their own album, here. Sorry the narratives aren't that great.
