Last week, we stopped by my parents’ house for a quick visit. My dad is doing an amazing job with his garden. There is a jungle of cucumber and tomato plants. Beautiful peas. A ton of dill. Not a weed in sight.
The star of the week, however, was gooseberry.
It started as a mail order error. We ordered a few trees and berry plants from a nursery we’ve been using for the past 5 years. We got everything plus 2 tiny gooseberry plants. We didn’t particularly want gooseberries because they can be carriers for a fungus that kills pine trees, and we have a ton of pine trees around. So, we offered the gooseberry plants to my parents (who don’t have any pines in their yard or nearby).
Three years later, my parents have divided and planted gooseberry bushes all around their yard. For the past couple of months, the kids and I have been eyeing the little green globes attached to those thorny stems – are they ready yet? How about now?
Finally, my dad picked the berries – still not fully ripe, but the birds were beginning to devour them. And oh my, the flavor.
I am not sure how long it has been since I’ve had fresh gooseberries. Possibly, not since we came to the US 27 years ago? They are not popular here, same as black and red currants (mmmm I love red currants).
Kids loved them, too.
They are tart, with a flavor that makes me think “fresh!” and “spring!”. I remember my mom brining gooseberries home from the farmers’ market when I was a child – a whole big bag, and we would sort through them, and eat, and eat, and eat. They were some of the earlier berries – earlier than raspberries and blueberries.
Delicious.
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