Life is. . . .

The first sweet cherries appeared at the farmer’s market this Saturday. Two weeks ago they didn’t even have strawberries, but this week it’s obvious–the fruit marathon is about to begin. I bought strawberries, of course, which were soon transformed into strawberry ice cream, a few punnets of red currants, which I fell upon with shrieks of joy (our currant bushes have not yet begun to bear), and a pint of plump, Black Tatarian cherries.

I spent a portion of that afternoon pitting the cherries. Yes, it was only a pint, but I do not have a cherry pitter, something that I plan to rectify every year and never quite get around to. Somehow I always find myself standing in the kitchen holding a bent paperclip with cherry juice all over my shirt. Possibly my subconcious mind secretly enjoys the fact that I get to eat any accidentally mangled cherries and is sabotaging my pitter-purchasing effort.  In any case, I pitted the pint, and ruined sadly few.  Teacherman was planning to spend the afternoon outside, committing acts of home improvement, so as I contemplated the disemboweled cherries, ideas for immediate consumption were farthest from my mind.

Instead, I tipped the cherries onto a parchment paper-lined sheet pan and slid the pan into the freezer.  Sunday morning I combined the rock-hard frozen cherries, two cups of drained yogurt, and a little vanilla extract, then blitzed everything in the food processor until smooth–no sweetener necessary. 

The resulting smoothies were ambrosial.  The taste was entirely of cherry–the tiny background of warm vanilla and the tang of the yogurt only served to enhance and magnify the essence of the cherries themselves.  The flavor pulled us towards summer, leaving spring behind.

Published in: on June 11, 2007 at 6:38 pm  Leave a Comment  

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