Growing up, I spent a lot of time mowing lawns. At this time of year the grass on the farm needs to be cut about once a week, depending on the weather, and the chore almost always falls to the youth in the family. It takes about four hours to mow the whole thing, and in the summer heat it's a real drag.
Most of the time I've spent behind the drone of a push mower has been forgettable. I don't get a lot of thinking done while cutting grass, and there's no real glory in it. I hate the chore so much I've mostly blocked out any memories of doing it over the past decades.
But there are a few lawn-mowing moments that remain forever in my mind. Most of them have to do with how hungry or thirsty the job made me, and how good certain foods tasted after I'd been working for hours. One memory centers on a bologna sandwich. Another, on a bowl of peaches. And still another has to do with a strawberry. My grandfather grew his own, and on one particularly hot, sticky afternoon he picked a perfect berry and handed it to me as I finished mowing. His hands were stained red from the ripe fruits.
The strawberry was hot from the sun and it melted into sweet, tangy summer in my mouth. It was the best berry I'd ever eaten. I can still taste it--the bright red juice and the seeds that popped as I bit down.
Often, when I see strawberries for sale at the grocery store during the colder months, I'm tempted to buy them with the hope that they'll live up to that perfect summer strawberry. They never, ever do. But still, I try. I bought strawberries a few months ago from the produce aisle. They tasted like red cardboard. They were white on the inside. And I told myself, once more: Never again.
Now it's June and the perfect berries are back. I stopped recently at a roadside stand in Lancaster, PA, where a young Mennonite girl was selling quarts of crimson berries. They were so ripe that their juices had stained her hands bright red. When I asked if I could take her picture, her cheeks turned the same color. But it wasn't her cheeks that I was interested in, it was her bright red hands, stained from handling the juicy berries all day.
My part of the country is flecked with pick-your-own strawberry farms, and in the past week I've stopped at several. In the coming weeks, I'll stop at many more. And then I will stop eating strawberries until next June.
One of my absolute favorite early summer desserts, strawberry shortcake made with freshly baked cream biscuits, lets perfect strawberries shine. If you can get a couple of cups of them, treat yourself to this dish. Otherwise, wait until next year.
Strawberry Shortcake with Cream Biscuits
Serves 4
Biscuits:
1 1/2 cups cake flour plus more for surface
1 Tbsp. sugar
1 1/2 tsp. baking powder
1/2 tsp. kosher salt
3/4 cup heavy cream plus more for brushing
Topping:
2 cups strawberries
1/4 cup sugar
2 Tbsp. orange liqueur (such as Cointreau)
1/2 cup chilled heavy cream
Biscuits: Preheat the oven to 425 degrees F.
Whisk together flour, sugar, baking powder, and 1/2 tsp. kosher salt in a bowl. Add cream and stir just until dough forms. Gently knead the dough in the bowl until it is cohesive. Pat dough on a lightly floured work surface into a 1/2"-thick round. Cut 4 squares from the dough and transfer to a lightly buttered baking sheet. Gather the scraps and reroll, cutting out more squares (you can reserve extra biscuits for another use). Brush tops of biscuits with cream, then bake 15-20 minutes or until they are golden.
Let biscuits cool completely on a rack.
Topping: Hull strawberries and cut them in half. Toss strawberries with sugar and liqueur and let macerate at room temperature.
Just before serving, whip the cream until it holds soft peaks. Split biscuits in half; spoon over each biscuit bottom some of the strawberries and a dollop of whipped cream. Top shortcakes with biscuit tops and spoon the strawberry liquid over.
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