My tote bag runneth over with beets, garlic scapes, mushrooms, raspberries, plums, bread, and eggs. After the first weeks of greens, greens, greens, at the Pioneer Park Farmers' Market the cherries ushered in the tidal wave of color and flavor from the state's fields. With all this eye candy, I hoped to turn it into gustatory ones. I even bought cherries to preserve in brandy. Do I sense a future post?
With such bounty and enthusiasm, casualties are inevitable. What to make do with bleeding raspberries and cracked Red Ace plums? Enjoy them. All by yourself in your cool kitchen. Sort out the unblehmished ones, stashing those in a single layer on your favorite plate (makes the fridge a lot prettier, instead of just messy). Take the roughed up ones into a little bowl. A big if you really mangled them. But that's okay. Because you're going to do with them what you always planned. Eat. A bit of creme fraiche on top. Maybe some demerara sugar, if only for photographic purposes.
Then, flank this bowl with a phalanx of Red Ace plums you bought from the farmer with a sour disposition, but the sweetest stone fruit around. They're appearance and size had everyone convinced that they were an odd cherry or gargantuan grapes. Blistered from a bit of dense packing, they reveal flesh that's virtually puree, ready-made preserves hiding under that garnet skin. And they are most certainly plums.
The raspberries from Weeks' Berries north of the city are bright and tender. And so alluring in their little boxes. Just, take heed from me, be gentle.