;)
When New Seasons puts up its big banner that says, "HOODS are here!", a clock begins ticking. It is the Countdown of Wonderfulness and Delectibility, because when you see that sign, you know that you have entered a very special, extremely short period of the year of eating as many fresh Oregon strawberries as you possibly can before they disappear for another year.
For those of you who don't live here and thus don't know about Oregon strawberries, here's the deal with them: they are the best strawberries you will ever, ever eat. I am not exaggerating in any way. If you've never had an Oregon strawberry, you have never eaten a true strawberry, trufax. No, I will accept no arguments on this point
They're dark, dark red, almost wine-colored. They are red all the way through -- there are no white centers. They're so juicy that the juice drips down your chin when you take the first bite and you will not wipe it off with a napkin, because that would be a criminal waste. Instead, you will wipe it off with your hand so that you can lick off every last bit of delicous berry juice. When they're in season, you will sell your own children for a pint of them. They're that good.
You may not have known Oregon even has these famous strawberries. We didn't, and believe me, we did our research about Oregon before we came here. Even when we got here, it took almost a year before we heard the first whispers of the Mythical Oregon Strawberry. People boasted about them the way they might talk about that record-breaking fish that got away, or sighting Sasquatch on a hike in the Gorge. They'll recount particularly good years like wine vintages: "Ah...1962, now that was a great year for strawberries. I still remember my dad taking me to Sauvie Island that year, and he said to me, 'Son, remember where you were when The Great Strawberry Harvest of '62 happened'..."
They're not a myth, but there's a reason that they're talked about as if they are. The strawberry season is super short, wildly varying based on the spring/early summer weather, and one of the most hotly anticipated of the entire year. And because of that, they don't make it past our borders so no one outside of Oregon ever knows about them. Hell, they don't even make it past the farms, most of the time, before they are devoured by the teeming hordes of strawberry-craving Oregonians. News of the imminent arrival of the strawberries is something that passes by word-of-mouth, and is the kind of thing that you only find out about by knowing someone who knows someone. Ostensibly, the strawberries appear at the end of May through the middle or end of June -- if you're lucky. Sometimes they arrive as early as the 1st of May, sometimes (as it was this year) as late as the end of June. Strawberry season may be a few weeks, maybe (rarely) as many as six. Every year is different.
Impromptu strawberry stands pop up along the highways on the edges of the city and the U-Pick farms at Sauvie Island have lines and wait lists. When they finally make it to the stores, they only last a day before they sell out. Sometimes only hours, especially in the beginning of a short and delayed season. You learn to snatch them up whenever you see them because there's a good chance those will be the only ones you get all year. You buy as many as you can every time -- a full flat, even if you'll be the only person eating them (you won't, but a girl can always dream...). Even if you get them in your delivered produce bin from Organics 2 U, as we do, they'll only spare you a precious handful, not even a full pint.
And if you do get them, you won't sully them with sprinkled sugar or cream or anything else. For one thing, you won't need to, but for another, there's a Secret Strawberry Police who will arrest you and charge you with crimes against food if you do these things. (Although it is considered acceptable to make either strawberry shortcake or fresh strawberry ice cream with Oregon strawberries. These are not crimes, these are sublime. However. They get mixed up with rhubarb and baked in pie? Slap on the handcuffs, buddy, you have committed a crime.)
;)
So assuming you're not an idiot, you will simply fill a bowl with cold water, gently place the strawberries in the bowl and lightly dunk them under the water a couple of times, then gently pour them out into a strainer. Then you will gently place them in a bowl, if you have some modicum of self control, or else you and your nearest and dearest will cluster around the strainer. And you will stand over them, either in the bowl or in the strainer, and you will eat them in solemn, reverent silence, one after the other, respectfully eating no more than your share while quietly keeping track that no one else eats more than theirs. And when they're all gone, you will have a moment of silence in the event those were your last strawberries for the season (even if, lucky you, they don't end up being your last), and will lovingly place the stems in the compost bin, and be filled with such bliss and contentment that you would happily die at that moment with no regrets whatsoever.