For about three quarters of the year, I make do with merely passably flavorful frozen berries that I deploy to chuck into smoothies and brighten up my oatmeal. Then June rolls around, and those first beautiful, dark fresh strawberries hit the farmer's market, and I remember how strawberries are actually supposed to taste. It's a heady time in my home, one marked by the constant presence of teal containers brimming with bright red fruit.
Typically, I'd be thinking a lot right now about pies and crumbles and shortcakes. But my older daughter was recently diagnosed with a gluten intolerance, so I'm trying to be supportive in any non-cake and crust ways I can. And when a warm wave of recent days made it all the easier to resist baking, I found myself looking at the strawberries on the kitchen counter and thinking of a classic that grabbed me from the first time I read Nigella Lawson's "How to Eat."
