A couple of weeks ago, my sister said to me, “Do you want to come over to my friend’s house to pick raspberries?” It was 10 am and already about 96 degrees. “Not really,” I replied. “How about I give you a bucket and you pick them?” She declined. In the end, I went with her to pick raspberries, resigning myself to having sweat dripping down into my eyes and rolling down my back. I was hoping to net enough berries for a pie. I’d never eaten raspberry pie, but it sounded good. I came home with about 6 quarts of berries and immediately began to look through my recipes. I found a fresh cherry pie recipe that I like a lot, and I thought it would work with raspberries. It did. The pie was perfect. The raspberry filling was firm like jam, not the least bit runny. It was crunchy, like eating popcorn kernels, because the raspberries were full of seeds, but that didn’t detract from the flavor. We also had to take the pie to my mother’s house to bake, a fact with which she was not at all pleased. We ate raspberry pie with ice cream and raspberry pie with whipped cream and raspberry pie just plain by itself. Grace didn’t care fo it (because of the seeds), but Joe and I really enjoyed our experimental pie. I’d make it again if the opportunity arose to pick raspberries for free.
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