On Having Your Strawberry and Eating It, Too
My grandma used to tell a story about a particular weekend in the summer when I was 2, when we’d spent a lot of time reading Blueberries for Sal. The classic children’s book by Robert McCloskey follows two mother-child duos—a pair of humans and a pair of bears—as they forage for berries on the same hill in Maine.
One night after story time, I started repeating the word blueberry. Grandma explained that I’d already brushed my teeth and could have berries in the morning. There were tears, and she felt badly, but rules were rules.
In the morning, I popped right out of bed and said it again: “blueberry.” She set me up in a highchair with a handful of berries, expecting me to dig in, but instead I selected one and, raising it proudly between my thumb and index finger, said, “blueberry.” Apparently, I’d just wanted to hold one.
All this is to say that there is something alluring and specifically tender about holding a berry. Nowadays, when confronted with the age-old dilemma to have or to eat, I always choose to eat the berry. But I still enjoy appreciating them one by one, hand to mouth: first the pop of brightness, then the seep of sweetness.
The closest you can get to having it both ways is to pick your own. So, in mid-June, with Blueberries for Sal in mind, I set about to do just that. Blueberries weren’t remotely ready, but strawberries were at their peak. I knew there were numerous farms around the state offering pick-your-own (PYO) berries. I could tell you the exact number (I recently updated Edible Rhody’s berry picking guide) but Goodwin Brothers, a two-generation farm in North Smithfield, caught my eye. Their highly endearing Instagram post plugging their friends at nearby Wright’s Dairy Farm in the wake of a surprise road closure sealed the deal for me: Goodwin Brothers it would be.
However, just when I was ready to head out to go berry picking, the rain began. I spent the next few days bouncing between the Goodwin’s Facebook page and various weather apps for updates. Finally, the skies cleared and the farm put out the message: picking was open. My girlfriend Elaine and I grabbed two pint-sized containers, hopped in the car and headed up to North Smithfield.
At the farm market, we were greeted by clusters of potted and hanging flowers for sale out front. Inside, there were rows of plump fruit—cherries, plums and Goodwin’s own berries—and vegetables of all sorts, plus more (like squash blossoms and frilled lettuce) in the fridge. Other fridges boasted Wright’s milk and cheeses, Stamp Farm eggs (another Goodwin neighbor) and pints of ice cream from Awesome Sweets in Pawtucket.
Pantry staples like local honey and applesauce (their own) lined wooden shelves and a gingham-clad table displayed a tidy grid of sourdough—panned loaves, jalapeño cheddar, bagels flavored and plain—by the newly founded Flourstorm bakery. We got in line at the register to ask about picking and chatted with a fellow customer while we waited.
Once we had directions, we headed around the corner to the field. There the strawberries were: mulched by straw in squat, bushy rows. From the field we could see the local middle school, and nearby, birds sat and sang around a pond full of waterlilies. The warm sun felt especially welcome after all the rain.
Farmer Josh Goodwin and his teenage helper were in the field harvesting berries. He was quick to tell us that many of the strawberries had split in the rain and advised us to toss those aside. So, when we peeked under the veil of green leaves, we were expecting to have to work for our fruit. Instead, we found clumps and clumps of bright red strawberries shining in the late-morning sun. We continued stooping and rummaging and I found myself almost wishing that the berries were less abundant so I could draw the morning out. Elaine remarked that strawberries gave a whole new meaning to low-hanging fruit. We quickly determined we should have brought bigger buckets.
When our containers were starting to look precariously full, a couple of grandparents arrived with two small kids. They’d smartly brought a large basket to fill. The kids darted up and down the rows, peering under leaves and employing admirable patience to avoid eating the berries before they could be weighed. I wondered if they were thinking about Sal.
Whether or not you have a Sal (or a baby bear) in tow, this blueberry turnover recipe, designed to be kid-friendly, would make an excellent epilogue to your picking adventure.
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While strawberries have passed, blueberry season is now upon us. Goodwin Brothers Farm opened this year’s blueberry PYO on July 5 and anticipates closing the fields for picking in mid-to-late August. Josh Goodwin told me that blueberries tend to be far more consistent than strawberries, and that picking is typically open daily from 9 am–5 pm, with last field admissions at 4 pm. He encourages folks to give a call to the farm or stop by the market to confirm the day-of.
Berry pickers are welcome to bring their own containers, or they can buy boxes for $3 (for strawberries) or borrow buckets at no charge (for blueberries) in the farm market. This year, PYO blueberries are $5.99 per pound at Goodwin’s, with no additional entry fee. Goodwin’s normally has PYO peaches, too, but this year the yield won’t allow them to open the orchard. Pre-picked Goodwin peaches will be available in their market starting in late July.
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Rachel Harrison lives and writes in Providence, where she is finishing her degree at Brown University. Her writing has appeared in Edible Rhody and Consequence Forum. She also serves as web archivist for AGNI. Before moving to Providence, Rachel worked as a professional ballet dancer for seven years. When she’s not working, you can probably find her fawning over her plants or playing word games.
