Strawberry fields forever ... or not

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The fields -- and flats and pints -- don’t, of course, last forever. Peak strawberry season was over a few months ago, and most of the berries you find at farmers markets now are from up north, around Watsonville. But as the summer comes to an end, I’ve been picking them up reflexively, compulsively, as unwilling to let go of the berries as I have been of summer. However, last weekend’s hot spell did a number on all of us -- and my various pints of strawberries. The crop on the counter softened up too fast in the heat; the berries in the fridge, where I’d stowed some of them in desperation, threatened to lose their glorious flavor and texture. We ate some on Greek yogurt and vanilla-spiked oatmeal, sliced others and napped them with cream, tossed still more into the freezer for the winter. Then I took the rest and threw them into the blender and made a refreshing cold soup. It was as if the essence of the strawberries had coalesced into my soup plate: The flavors -- and colors -- were remarkable.

All I did was slice 3 pints of ripe (some were slightly overripe) berries into a blender, add 2 tablespoons of sugar and allow it to macerate for half an hour there; then I added a splash of rosewater. I blended the mixture on high for a minute, then poured the results into bowls. My daughters added a few slices of extra strawberries, some fresh mint and -- their favorite part -- a rose petal from the kitchen table bouquet. It was a fitting end, an homage if you will, to our last weekend of summer.

-- Amy Scattergood