Being a Primitive Gourmet

I heard, through a friend, about the wine berries and black raspberries growing wild in a local park, just waiting to be picked. Even though temps had reached the 80's by 8 am, I considered this to be a low cost, high yield adventure to take my daughter on. The bushes did not disappoint.

Upon arriving at the park, we found the grass was dewy and undisturbed. We kicked up a lot of bugs, sweated profusely, collected hundreds of tiny burrs that bejeweled our play clothes and got scratched numerous times traversing the brambles for the best berries. We had a great time. We're tough women. Our Pennsylvania Dutch foremothers have been delivering babies while picking potatoes for centuries. Between the lively conversation and delicious snacking, we didn't even notice the conditions.

We took with us our gallon-sized Easter bucket that has a plastic handle. We filled it half way, giving us a yield of 2 quarts, or 8 cups.

I learned this about being a Primitive Gourmet: I believe that a certain satisfaction was removed from food preparation when full-on grocery stores became prevalent. My whole day was filled of thoughts regarding these berries; getting them, treating them (I gently placed them in a metal colander in a sink full of water, twice and gently swished to remove as much debris and bugs as I could), using them and then eating them. We take our food for granted nowadays.

Profoundly Satisfying Turnovers

4 cups of berries, 1/2 cup honey, 1/2 cup sugar, juice of 1/2 lemon, 1 Tablespoon cornstarch. Mix together.

1 package puff pastry dough, cutting each sheet in 4 or 8 pieces (squares). Using a slotted spoon, put a spoonful of the berries on the lower half of each square. Fold top over bottom and seal with the tines of a fork. Brush with beaten egg and bake at 450 degrees until golden and puffed. We topped ours with leftover icing while still warm.

Juicy, rustic, fantastic. Slow down and love your food.