Visiting France for the summer, I ordered the ‘wild strawberries,’ not knowing what I was getting myself into.
They came to me on a simple white plate. The sizes and colors of them varied, and some even had little hairs sticking out. Maybe not the most stunning plate I’d ever seen, but as I scooped a handful into my mouth, my world changed.
The texture was luscious, like eating a velvety cloud made of butter. But the real gem was in the taste: These wild strawberries were perfectly sweet and light on my palate. Although nothing comes close to the taste of these, if I had to try describing the level of sweetness, bananas are probably my best bet.
In America, every season seems to be strawberry season. They are always being sold in grocery stores, and they always look the same, with that daring red color and oversized shape of three strawberries in one. Usually the taste is quite bitter, which it clearly should not be.
Wild strawberries are only grown in the summer, and while in France, I made sure that I got to eat as much as possible, as often as possible. The only problem: after tasting those, I can’t seem to enjoy the strawberries back home in America anymore…