strawberry love
Early morning sun twinkled through my Holly Hobby curtains. Its warmth snickered me out of bed and onto better things. With nightgown and bare feet, I would tenderly and ever-so-cautiously deal with the creek-whining of the back porch screen door. Maneuvering its old age long enough to find my feet on the hand cut patio stones. It was time.
Sneaky and anxious, nightgown hoisted just above my knees to avoid the morning dew, my bare feet barreled to the end of my house just outside the garden gate as well as my bedroom window. It was time. With my nightgown as a simple make shift basket, I picked.
I ate.
As fast as those ripe red rubies could find my lips, I was blissfully consumed. Tossing remaining leaf bundles this way and that, down the rows I would go. Dirt smushing between my toes like cake batter. My moist feet troddled along determined to leave not one, not one, behind. With belly full, enough bounty in my basket for the makings of sweet cereal milk and the most crimson smeared lips and cheeks of Estill Springs, I made my way back inside. Muddy footprints. Grass blades sparkling. I was ready for my day to begin.
It is time.
I love strawberries to say the least. And May is prime time in Tennessee for strawberry pickin'. Strawberry Pretzel Salad is a recipe so very simple and utterly divine. Kenny has now named this his most favorite dessert I make. The man eats it out of the pan with his fork in clear concise, clean rows. And Strawberry Napoleon runs a close second on the divine-o-meter in our home. The filo dough gives it a more whimsical puffy vibe.
Consider this the first bit of a teaser post for the wonderful goodness the staff at meghancobble.com has planned to share with you beginning next week. We look forward to celebrating with you our love of food and our joy of story. Here's to a weekend full of taste buds bursting and memory making from our home to yours.
