STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE 2.0

Is it too late in the summer to talk about strawberry shortcake? Too bad. I’ve avoided baking traditional biscuits for most of my life, my irrational fear of making pie crust extending to any recipe that involved cutting butter into other ingredients. I made drop biscuits and cream biscuits, and even made “shortcake” using Bisquick in the very early days of this blog. That was all fine, but as soon as I successfully overcame my pie fear, it was time to unlock the top level of buttery flakiness in one of my favorite desserts.

There are an overwhelming number of strawberry shortcake formulas in the world, so I stuck with the always straightforward and reliable Simply Recipes, and was not disappointed. Because I was home alone for the week, I ate one biscuit straight out of the oven and froze the rest. Each night I’d defrost one, macerate a single serving of berries, whip a single serving of cream (Did you know you can do this? Immersion blenders are magical), and enjoy my solo dessert. Thus I can’t vouch for the exact accuracy of the berry and cream quantities listed here, since I was winging it from day to day. I suspect I used more than 6 cups of berries—I like a lot of fruit on my shortcake. I even used peaches once, when the berries ran out, and that was also tasty.

I took the opportunity to try Food52’s nifty recipe for yogurt whipped cream, which is as tangily delicious as promised, but you can of course use regular whipped cream too.

Berries:
3 pints (about 6 cups) strawberries
½ cup sugar, or to taste
Biscuits:
3 cups all-purpose flour
3 tablespoons sugar
1½ tablespoons baking powder
¾ teaspoon salt
¾ cup (1½ sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
1½ cups heavy cream
1½ teaspoons vanilla extract
Yogurt whipped cream:
1 cup heavy cream, chilled
½ cup plain yogurt, Greek or otherwise, full-fat or otherwise, chilled
A few pinches of sugar (optional)

1. Cut the stems away from the strawberries and discard. Cut the strawberries in half, and then in either quarters or thick slices. Put the cut strawberries into a large bowl and sprinkle with ¼ cup sugar. Taste, and add up to another ¼ cup sugar depending on how sweet your strawberries are and how sweet you want them. Gently stir until coated and let sit at room temperature for about 20 minutes, until the berries soften and begin to release their juices.
2. Meanwhile, to make the biscuits, vigorously whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl. Cut the butter into the flour mixture, either using your fingers, a pastry cutter, a fork, or a food processor, until the largest pieces of butter are pea-sized.
3. Mix the vanilla and cream together. Make a well in the center of the flour and pour the cream into it. Mix with a fork until the mixture is just combined. It should look rather shaggy and feel a little dry. Gently knead by hand a few times to form a loose ball of dough.
4. Place the dough on a lightly floured surface and form it into an 8-inch square, about ¾ inch to 1 inch thick. Place it on a parchment- or silicone-lined baking sheet, cover with plastic wrap, and chill for 20 minutes.
5. Mash about half of the berries in the bowl and stir to mix. Let sit while you bake the biscuits.
6. Heat the oven to 425 degrees. Remove the biscuit dough from refrigerator, cut into 9 even squares, and spread them about 2 inches apart on the baking sheet. Bake until medium golden brown, 18 to 20 minutes. Let cool on a wire rack.
7. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a whisk (or using a hand mixer or immersion blender, or by hand), beat heavy cream and yogurt (with a little sugar if desired) on medium-high speed until soft peaks form. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate until ready to serve.
8. To serve, slice each biscuit in half horizontally and place cut side up in a wide, shallow bowl. Ladle strawberries over each biscuit and add a dollop of whipped cream.

Serves: 9
Time: 1 hour 15 minutes
Leftover potential: OK. Biscuits are best freshly baked, but they can be frozen and defrosted in the microwave; the texture will suffer a bit, but the flavor is still good and macerated strawberries hide a multitude of sins. (You might also try freezing the unbaked dough squares and baking them in small quantities as needed.) If eating them singly, use about 1/3 to ½ cup macerated with ½ to 1 tablespoon sugar per biscuit. If you have an immersion blender, it’s easy to make whipped cream in small quantities; per serving, I use a few tablespoons of cream whipped with a heaping tablespoon of yogurt.

ROASTED STRAWBERRY AND TOASTED COCONUT POPSICLES

I know, it’s not strawberry season for most of you, and it’s not popsicle weather either, and this picture is kinda crappy. (Popsicles turn out to be surprisingly difficult to photograph, especially when they’re melting—it actually was popsicle weather way back when I made these—and I really want to eat the subject. Hunger is my number-one obstacle to becoming a better food photographer.) But I had to share, because popsicles! I made them! And they were delicious. So you’ll just have to bookmark this for next summer.

When I was a kid, my mom used to make pudding pops (from Jell-O boxed pudding mix; pistachio was my favorite) in Tupperware molds. (These, to be precise.) Periodically I’ve seen fancy foodie popsicle recipes on blogs and in magazines and thought about making them, but it never seemed worth buying special equipment for. Popsicles are refreshing and all, but I’ll happily pass them over for ice cream. Then I won some popsicle molds (these, to be precise) in some random departmental contest at my old job…and promptly shoved them into a deep back corner of the cupboard and forgot about them for nearly a year, until I spotted this recipe at Joy the Baker. Roasted strawberries and toasted coconut? Hold the damn phone.

Why didn’t anyone tell me popsicles could be this good? They’re a snap to make but don’t taste like anything you can buy at the store: creamy coconut milk with toasty coconut shreds, rich red strawberry concentrated via roasting, not too much sweetness and just a hint of lime for contrast. This immediately launched a popsicle obsession for me, but none of the other recipes I’ve tried so far have held a candle to this one.

Trader Joe’s only sells a light coconut milk, which works well for most uses but would have been too icy when frozen, so I tried TJ’s coconut cream instead and it was fantastic for this purpose, thick and rich with a purer flavor than any other coconut milk I’ve had. I also used TJ’s shredded coconut, which is only mildly sweetened, far less sugary than the Baker’s stuff. I daresay you could use straight-up unsweetened if you wanted. I had to make this in two half-batches because I only have six popsicle molds, but it was no big deal—I made the full amount of roasted strawberry puree and stored half of it in a sealed container in the fridge for a few days, where it held up just fine until I was ready to make the other popsicles, at which point I concocted the rest of the coconut mixture.

1/3 cup sweetened shredded coconut
1 pound fresh strawberries, hulled
1 tablespoon olive oil
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
Juice of 1 lime, divided
1 (15-ounce) can whole-fat coconut milk or coconut cream, well shaken
2 tablespoons granulated sugar
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

1. Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Sprinkle coconut onto a rimmed baking sheet and toast in the oven until golden brown, about 3-5 minutes (keep a close eye on it). Remove from oven and place coconut in a small bowl to cool.

2. Place strawberries on the baking sheet and drizzle with olive oil. Place in the oven to roast until fragrant and soft, about 18-20 minutes. Remove from the oven and add the strawberries to the bowl of a food processor or blender. Add 2 tablespoons sugar and juice of half a lime. Blend until smooth.

3. In a small bowl, stir together coconut milk, remaining lime juice, 2 tablespoons granulated sugar, and vanilla extract. Stir the toasted coconut into the milk mixture.

4. Dollop a spoonful of strawberry into the bottom of each popsicle mold. Stir coconut milk and add to the popsicle molds, filling them about 2/3 full. Spoon more strawberry into each mold and top with remaining coconut milk.

5. Add popsicle mold sticks and lids. Freeze for at least 6 hours before serving.

Yields: About 10 popsicles
Time: 40 minutes (plus 6 hours to chill)
Leftover potential: Of course. Ours were eaten within a week, but they should keep in the freezer as long as you like (within reason).

KALE, STRAWBERRY, AND AVOCADO SALAD

I’m still desperately trying to play catchup here, but at least I’ve reached a recipe that seems more seasonally appropriate for today (i.e., isn’t soup). My goal is to have kale salads for all seasons, and here’s my spring edition—Southern California spring, at least, but more like summer everywhere else…so, see, I’m not late with this at all! I wouldn’t necessarily have thought to combine bitter leafy greens with sweet berries, creamy avocado, and crunchy poppy seeds, but the blend really works. Bright lemon vinaigrette is perfect as always (I can’t recall, but I’m guessing I left out the honey, because I like my dressings acidic), almonds add more texture and some protein, and feta brings its usual salty cheesy goodness. Regrettably, my salad didn’t turn out as picture-perfect as the original version over at Two Peas and Their Pod—especially if your strawberries and avocado are very ripe, they’ll begin to break down somewhat as soon as you start mixing everything—but its pinks, reds, whites, and greens were still pretty, and I loved its fresh, grassy flavors. Oh kale, what can’t you do?

1 bunch Tuscan kale (about 4-5 cups), stems removed, leaves chopped
1 cup sliced strawberries
1 avocado, peeled and chopped
⅓ cup sliced almonds
¼ cup feta cheese
2 tablespoons olive oil
2 tablespoons fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon honey
½ teaspoon poppy seeds
Coarse salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste

1. Put the kale in a large bowl.

2. In a small bowl or jar, combine the olive oil, lemon juice, honey, poppy seeds, salt, and pepper. Shake or whisk until mixed well.

3. Add most of the dressing to the kale and mix it together with your hands, massaging gently until the kale is well coated. If you have time, let the dressed kale sit for 15-30 minutes.

4. Add the strawberries, avocado, almonds, and feta cheese. Toss gently. Add the rest of the dressing as needed and toss gently to coat. Season with additional salt and pepper as needed.

Serves: 4
Time: 20 minutes
Leftover potential: With the berries and avocado, it doesn’t hold up as sturdily as other kale salads I’ve tried, but it’s fine for a few days.

REFRIGERATOR OATMEAL

I’ve been holding out on you: I’ve been eating this awesome oatmeal three or four times a week for the past month and I’m only now getting around to mentioning it. And when you try this and it changes your life (or at least, the tiny breakfast-adjacent portion of it), you might be a little peeved that I didn’t mention it sooner.

Remember last summer, when a broken oven left me granola-less and baked-oatmeal-bereft, and I got on a museli kick? Little did I know then that I was just one small step away from oatmeal nirvana. I even mentioned it in my post: soaking the oats overnight. But I never tried it, until somehow I was reintroduced to the concept by the random idea generator that is the Internet. Overnight oats are pretty trendy on the food blogs, and really, the concept is laughably simple—soaking the oats in milk breaks them down in a similar way that cooking does. Except that it’s way easier, far less gloppy and gluey, extremely portable, not oppressively hot on a sweltering summer morning, and, if you use the further genius idea of adding Greek yogurt to the soaking liquid, packed with protein.

I used this basic recipe, but of course there are very few rules that have to be followed. This is a good ratio of oats to liquid, but I’ll admit I use ½ cup of each instead of the original ⅓ cup—I’m a hungry girl in the morning, and ½ cup is, after all, the recommended oatmeal serving size, so it’s not like I’m gorging. So far I’ve stuck pretty close to the blueberries-and-almonds formula, adding only some occasional strawberries or raspberries (and, once, a diced peach) and ground flaxseed. But you could go crazy with your toppings; some example variations shown here use nut butters, jam, and granola and other cereals, and I imagine frozen or dried fruit would be fine when fresh isn’t available.

I still adore my granola and, in colder weather, my baked oatmeal, but when I don’t have time to make those, this will be my go-to. I love the tender-chewy texture, the cool and refreshing temperature, and the way it keeps me full until lunchtime: I’ve been a cereal eater all my life, but with all these cheaper and healthier homemade options, I find myself bringing home the storebought stuff less and less. Who knew oats could be so versatile?

⅓–½ cup rolled oats
⅓–½ cup milk (equal to the quantity of oats)
⅓–½ cup plain Greek yogurt (equal to the quantity of oats and milk)
Fresh blueberries, sliced strawberries, raspberries, or other fruit to taste, about ¼–⅓ cup
1 generous dash of cinnamon
Brown sugar or honey to taste, about 1 teaspoon (optional)
Sliced almonds or other nuts to taste, about 2–3 tablespoons
Ground flaxseed to taste, about 1 tablespoon (optional)

1. Stir oats, milk, yogurt, fruit, cinnamon, and sugar or honey (if desired) together in a jar or bowl. Cover and place in refrigerator overnight.

2. In the morning, remove from refrigerator and top with nuts and flaxseed (if desired).

Serves: 1
Time: 5 minutes, plus about 8 hours in the fridge
Leftover potential: n/a

ROASTED STRAWBERRY BUTTERMILK CAKE

Roasted strawberries! I had never heard of such a thing before, but of course it makes perfect sense. (More sense than strawberry pizza, anyway.) After a sojourn in the oven with sweetness-boosting syrup and savoriness-boosting oil and salt (I know it feels weird to be putting oil and salt on berries, but just roll with it), they break down into a magical, deeply concentrated, intoxicatingly perfumed, almost jammy concoction that’s then tossed in balsamic vinegar for a final flavorful coup de grace. Is there any food that can’t be improved by roasting? I don’t want to know the answer to that.

This recipe from Joy the Baker isn’t perfect, or at least my execution of it wasn’t, but it won me over nonetheless. The strawberries came out wonderfully, although given the volume of the cake I would be tempted to use even more of them next time; the result was more “cake with occasional strawberry” than “strawberry cake.” The cake itself doesn’t contain a lot of butter or sugar, which is great, but my batter turned out worrisomely thick and floury-tasting (I’m an inveterate batter-sampler and usually think it tastes even better than the cooked version, but this one was not very delicious). I’m fully willing to believe that I mismeasured the flour—I do remember being in a rush and resorting to the scooping method rather than the more accurate spoon-in-and-level—but it still made me nervous. When the cake had cooled I cut myself a slice and was underwhelmed. I loved the roasted strawberries, but overall the cake seemed too dense and blah. I stuck the rest of the cake in the fridge and went to bed, telling myself that I’d just have to roast strawberries and eat them in other ways (on yogurt? over ice cream?) while sticking with my favorite tender, moist, lemon-spiked berry buttermilk cake.

The next day, I tried another slice and…it was pretty good! I know that many foods are tastier the next day, but I don’t usually think of cake as one of them. While it still wasn’t ultra-flavorful, the cake now seemed like a worthy vehicle for the strawberries, and I suddenly liked it enough to revise my initial “not worth making again” judgment. Over the next couple of days, I even found myself savoring a slice for breakfast (with a wholesome side dish of yogurt), and I have never been a cake-for-breakfast eater, not even doughnuts or muffins or cinnamon rolls or other socially accepted cake-like foods. That should give you an idea of how not-very-sweet this cake is. I grew to like its not-sweetness, and even its sturdiness, which kept the berries from sinking to the bottom. Maybe it was Stockholm syndrome, but by the time the cake was gone, I’d decided I would definitely make it again. Maybe even specifically for breakfast.

I made no changes to the recipe beyond using a few more strawberries (I’ll use even more next time, possibly even doubling the whole roasted-strawberry recipe), baking it in a 12-inch skillet instead of an 11-inch, because that’s what I’ve got (the cake still seemed plenty thick, regardless), and using granulated sugar on top because I didn’t have turbinado (it was fine, although I’m sure turbinado would add more crunch). I used vanilla but might try almond next time to see if it adds a more discernible flavor (or maybe I’ll use both). Next time, as I mentioned, I’ll measure my flour more carefully and err on the scant side. I’m also tempted to throw all the strawberries onto the cake before baking, instead of adding half then and half later, because that didn’t seem to make much difference in flavor or texture.

8 ounces (or more) medium strawberries, hulled
2 tablespoons maple syrup
1 tablespoon olive oil
1 pinch of salt + ½ teaspoon, divided
2 teaspoons balsamic vinegar
2½ cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon baking powder
½ cup granulated sugar
½ teaspoon salt
2 large eggs
1½ cups buttermilk
¼ cup unsalted butter, melted and slightly cooled
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract or ¼ teaspoon pure almond extract
3 tablespoons turbinado sugar (or just granulated sugar) for topping

1. Place a rack in the center of the oven and preheat oven to 375 degrees. Line a rimmed baking sheet with parchment paper. (The strawberries get juicy, so a rimmed baking sheet is important.)

2. In a large bowl, whisk together maple syrup, olive oil, and salt until completely incorporated. Cut each strawberry in half and place in the bowl. Toss well until each strawberry is coated. Arrange strawberries in a single layer on the prepared baking sheet.

3. Roast strawberries for 40 minutes. (The juices will thicken, but remove the strawberries from the oven before the juices begin to burn.) Remove the berries and juice from the pan while still warm. Place in a small bowl, stir in balsamic vinegar, and set aside.

4. Increase oven heat to 400 degrees. Butter an 11- or 12-inch cast-iron skillet. (You can also use an 11-inch round tart or quiche pan, or a 9×13-inch pan, although the cake will be thinner and you’ll need to keep a close eye on it in the oven.)

5. In a large bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, salt and sugar.

6. In a small bowl, whisk together buttermilk, eggs, and butter. Whisk in the vanilla or almond extract.

7. Add the buttermilk mixture all at once to the dry ingredients. Stir until just combined and no lumps remain. Spoon batter into the prepared pan and top with half of the roasted strawberries and juice. Sprinkle generously with turbinado sugar.

8. Bake for 20 to 25 minutes, or until a skewer inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean. (Keep a close eye on it so it doesn’t overcook and dry out.) Allow cake to cool to room temperature before slicing to serve. Serve with the remaining roasted strawberries on top.

Serves: About 8
Time: 1½ hours
Leftover potential: OK; cake will last in an airtight container in the refrigerator for up to 3 days.

STRAWBERRY PIZZA

Strawberry pizza, what what what? And not some wimpy dessert pizza, either. I’ll put just about anything on a pizza, including apples and pears, so technically strawberries aren’t so much of a stretch. But strawberries with onions, bacon, chicken, and cheese? Not to mention a sauce of strawberry jam, balsamic vinegar, and Sriracha? I like all those things, and even some of them in pairs (strawberries + balsamic, bacon + anything), but let’s face it, as an assemblage it sounds bizarre. I was half-intrigued, half-weirded out when this recipe popped up in my feed reader. It was from Annie’s Eats, however, a site that’s never steered me wrong, and if Annie acknowledged that the combination seemed strange yet tasted wonderful, I figured I should trust her. Plus, whether it turns out well or poorly, unusual food always makes good blog fodder.

Luckily, this is one of those ingredient lists that makes complete sense when you taste it. I did still find the sauce a bit unnervingly sweet for an entrée, but it’s well balanced by the tartness of the vinegar, the spiciness of the Sriracha, the smokiness of the bacon, and the savoriness of the chicken, onion, and cheeses. Unfortunately, I’d thrown away my cilantro earlier in the week in a fit of carelessness (after using half the bunch for a different dish, I carefully thought through the remainder of my upcoming meals and concluded there was nothing else I needed it for, completely forgetting it was yet another element of this unpredictable pizza mélange), so I was forced to make do with a mixture of basil and mint. Both of those herbs seem to be more frequently paired with strawberries, so perhaps it’s understandable that the cilantro slipped my mind, but I think the cilantro might have worked better here—my replacements were OK, but the mint, in particular, struck me as too reminiscent of dessert. Other than that, everything was perfect, and the finished dish reminded me surprisingly strongly of BBQ chicken pizza. Despite his initial skepticism, A particularly liked it (I believe the word he used was “awesome”), so soon strawberry pizza will seem totally normal at our house. And, as a bonus, it’s a great way to use up my omnipresent stash of homemade jam!

¼ cup balsamic vinegar
½ cup good-quality strawberry jam
1 teaspoon Sriracha
1 pound pizza dough
1 cup shredded or diced cooked chicken
4 slices bacon, diced and cooked until crisp
½ cup thinly sliced yellow onion
4 ounces shredded mozzarella cheese
2 ounces freshly grated Parmesan cheese
2–3 tablespoons minced fresh cilantro
½ cup hulled strawberries, diced

1. Place the balsamic vinegar in a small saucepan over medium-high heat. Bring to a boil, reduce to a simmer, and let cook 4 to 5 minutes or until reduced by about half with a thick, syrupy texture. Remove from heat and pour into a small bowl. Add the strawberry jam and Sriracha, stir well, and set aside.

2. Preheat the oven to 450 degrees.

3. Roll out the pizza dough and place on a baking sheet or pizza stone. Spread the balsamic-strawberry mixture in a thin layer over the crust. Layer with the chicken, bacon, onion, cheeses, cilantro, and strawberries.

4. Bake pizza until the cheese is melted and bubbling and the crust is lightly browned, about 11 to 12 minutes. Remove from the oven and let cool slightly before slicing and serving.

Serves: 4
Time: 45 minutes
Leftover potential: Good.

STRAWBERRY AND ASPARAGUS SALAD

Asparagus + strawberries + mint + lemon = spring in a bowl. Add feta and spinach and you can’t hold me back. I might never have thought to combine these exact ingredients before stumbling across this salad from Bev Cooks on the magical Interwebs, but of course they go together brilliantly. (I’ve already combined strawberries and avocado, so why not strawberries and asparagus?) I doubled the recipe to serve four (as a side), swapped the feta in for goat cheese (not my fave), and upped the lemon juice ratio in the dressing (I like mine acidic). I used salted pepitas because I happened to have some on hand, and I did like them against the sweetness of the strawberries, but I think a lot of other options would work well here, too—pecans, sunflowers seeds, almonds, or even walnuts. The lemon-mint dressing was particularly nice; I had contemplated trying some sort of balsamic dressing instead, worried about the mint being too overpowering and weird, but it was subtle, just enough to add a crisp and refreshing aftertaste, and kept this salad on the delicate side, which is perfect for spring. I ate some leftover dressing on plain spinach later in the week and it was so good on its own that I started envisioning using it on other fruit-with-greens salads throughout the summer (I bet it would be nice with blueberries or peaches).

1 bunch (about ½ pound or less) asparagus, ends trimmed, stalks sliced into 2-inch pieces
10 mint leaves
5 tablespoons extra-virgin olive oil
3 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
Salt and freshly ground black pepper to taste
About 3 cups baby spinach
About 1 cup strawberries, rinsed and thinly sliced
¼ cup pepitas, toasted
¼ cup crumbled feta or goat cheese

1. Bring a medium pot of salted water to a boil. Add the asparagus and cook until bright green and crisp-tender, about 2 minutes. Drain and cool in an ice bath or under cold running water. Pat dry.

2. Using a mini food processor or an immersion blender, combine the mint leaves with the oil, lemon juice, and salt and pepper to taste.

3. Arrange the spinach in a bowl or on a plate. Top with sliced strawberries, blanched asparagus, toasted pepitas, crumbled cheese, and a good drizzle of the lemon-mint dressing.

Serves: 4
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: OK, but you should store the components separately and assemble them only when ready to eat.

MAGIC JUICE

I apologize: To do full justice to the magic of magic juice, the above photograph should have been taken on a sunny porch, not in my dark apartment kitchen. The first time I made this recipe, I drank it from a thermos while lounging on a picnic blanket on the grass at twilight listening to an outdoor concert, and it was perfect, because magic juice is like summer in a glass. But I didn’t have my camera with me, so I mixed up another batch one night at home. I’m pleased to report that it was just as delicious indoors, if not so photogenic, so there’s no need to wait for a special occasion to make this drink. Any Tuesday evening will do.

The recipe is from Design*Sponge, where you can see much prettier pictures than mine. As soon as I saw it, I knew I had to try it. I adore gin, but I don’t often make drinks at home—in fact, adding gin to ginger ale is about the limit of my mixology, and I’m much more apt to open a bottle of beer instead. Summertime, however, always makes me long for cool evening cocktails, so I was glad to be able to feed that yearning for once. The recipe is a little too resource-intensive for my everyday life—if you make a double recipe, which I highly recommend if you’re drinking with a friend because you’ll crave another drink once you’ve finished your first, you’ll need to have nearly a pint of strawberries, two oranges, half a cucumber, and a whole bunch of mint on hand—but is so irresistibly refreshing, fruity without being sickeningly sweet, I know I’ll be making it periodically from now on. The gin flavor isn’t overwhelming, so even if you’re one of those crazy people who doesn’t care for gin, you should still give this a try.

A few recipe notes: I don’t own a muddler (see above re: not making drinks at home), so I used a meat tenderizer mallet to crush the fruit and bruise the mint, which worked well enough for me—as far as I’m concerned, the more juice that gets into this drink, the better. I used Hendricks gin, which is my fave and works especially well here because of its cucumber undertones. Fresh lemonade was called for, but I wussed out and used Trader Joe’s brand (a staple in our refrigerator) and it tasted plenty good. The first time around, I even skipped the ice, since we were bringing it to a picnic—I just poured the magic juice into two water bottles and chilled them in the fridge for half an hour or so before packing them up.

6 strawberries, hulled and diced
1 orange, peeled and diced
¼ of a large cucumber, peeled and diced
5–7 mint leaves
4–6 ounces gin (I recommend Hendricks)
8 ounces lemonade (ideally fresh, but I used Trader Joe’s)

1. Muddle strawberries, orange, cucumber, and mint. Pour gin into mixture and let sit for 10–15 minutes.
2. Strain over lemonade and ice. Garnish with a fruit slice or mint leaf, if desired.

Serves: 2
Time: 20 minutes
Leftover potential: None

STRAWBERRY-SOUR CREAM ICE CREAM

Neither A nor I really likes sour cream. Or, to be more accurate, we think of it in the same category as mayonnaise and cream cheese: good in certain contexts, but mystifying in its overall popular appeal. While sour cream is fine in a stroganoff or twice-baked potatoes, and it can be excellent in baked goods, you’re not going to catch us piling dollops of it onto our tacos or chili. I’ve become more neutral on the subject over the years; my aversion stems mainly from the quantities in which sour cream is often presented—it’s ruined so many restaurant meals by appearing unannounced in huge blobs that smother the entire plate, so you can bet that those Daisy commercials that show people happily eating it by the heaping spoonful give me the willies (similarly, although I now like a thin layer of mayonnaise on my BLTs, I still habitually resent mayo due to years of being presented with soggy sandwiches dripping with the stuff). But A harbors a distinct antipathy for many white, creamy foodstuffs, so when I announced to him that I’d found the perfect way to use up the rest of the sour cream in our fridge (I’d had to buy a whole container just for 3 tablespoons’ worth to go into his birthday cake) and the solution was making strawberry ice cream (from David Lebovitz’s indispensible The Perfect Scoop, of course), he replied, “Why would you do that?” I swore up and down that all online testimonials suggested it wouldn’t taste much like sour cream—tangier than normal ice cream, sure, but less tangy than frozen yogurt—but he remained skeptical until presented with a spoonful.

Folks, this is some good ice cream. As I predicted, the flavor wasn’t unusual—it’s just a really good strawberry ice cream, bright and fresh—but the texture sent me over the moon. I don’t know whether to thank the sour cream or perfect weather conditions, but this is the first recipe that’s turned out really thick and creamy for me right out of the ice cream maker. Thanks to lack of air conditioning, a temperamental freezer, and my refusal to bother with custard-based recipes, I’ve gotten used to homemade ice creams that taste delicious but vacillate between melty and icy. This one was amazingly light and fluffy, so much so that it nearly overflowed the bowl of the ice cream maker. I churned it while home alone on Saturday night, after returning from the pub with several beers in me, and I’m relieved there was no one around to see how greedily I licked the spatula, the beater, and even the freezer bowl, but I’m sorry that A didn’t get a chance to try this when it was freshly made. We’ve been eating bowls of it for dessert all week and it’s still fabulous, but the newly-churned version was incredible, cold, sweet, and pillowy, like strawberry whipped cream. For health purposes, strawberry frozen yogurt will remain my go-to recipe, but next time I have leftover sour cream, I know exactly what I’m doing with it.

1 pound fresh strawberries, rinsed and hulled
¾ cup sugar
1 tablespoon kirsch or vodka (I used kirsch)
1 cup sour cream
1 cup heavy cream
½ teaspoon freshly squeezed lemon juice

1. Slice strawberries and toss in a bowl with sugar and kirsch or vodka, stirring until sugar begins to dissolve. Cover and let stand at room temperature for 1 hour, stirring every so often.

2. Pulse the strawberries and their liquid with the sour cream, heavy cream, and lemon juice in a blender or food processor until almost smooth but still slightly chunky.

3. Refrigerate for 1 hour, then freeze in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions.

Yields: About 1¼ quarts
Time: 15 minutes of active work, 2 hours of waiting, plus processing time
Leftover potential: Best when freshly made, but will keep nicely in the freezer for at least a week

AVOCADO, STRAWBERRY, ORANGE, AND ARUGULA SALAD

I’m a latecomer to avocados; I didn’t even start liking guacamole until my college years, when I tasted the good stuff in Mexico. But moving to California, where avocados are so very cheap and good and plentiful (so much so that you might actually know some people who have avocado trees in their backyards and bestow big bagfuls upon you), made me feel contractually obligated to use them, and now I am enamored with them. It helps that our farmers’ market has a cheerful, capable vendor A and I refer to as The Avocado Lady, who has the infallible magical power of selecting precisely the right avocado for you based on size, type, intended use, and when you want to eat it, so that all I have to do is stroll up and say “I’d like something that will be ripe tomorrow night” and I’m presented with a perfect avocado every time.

I don’t have that many avocado recipes yet, though, so I was excited to see this one from Gourmet at The Bitten Word, chock full of ingredients I like and bursting with beautiful bright colors. Since goat cheese tastes like dirt to me (I keep trying, I swear!) I almost skipped the cheese entirely, but I subbed in feta at the last minute and was glad I did; it kept the sweet-savory balance intact. I also ended up using a couple of mandarin oranges instead of a navel orange, because when I sliced open my navel orange it was all tragically dry and stringy (I think that’s the first-ever bad orange I’ve encountered in the six years I lived here), so I squeezed out enough juice for the dressing and discarded the flesh. I actually liked the mandarin orange segments a lot; they were a lot less labor-intensive and held together neatly for tossing and eating. Surprisingly, though, I didn’t really like the dressing here, even though it’s just a lime-orange version of my go-to lemon vinaigrette. Maybe the juice from the rogue orange tainted the whole thing, but I kept tasting the dressing over and over again as I whisked it, and it seemed to vacillate between anemic at best and off-tasting at worst. It didn’t ruin the salad for me because I loved all the other ingredients so much, but it certainly lacked the pizzazz needed to elevate this from “big bowl of cut-up foods I enjoy” to more than the sum of its parts. Perhaps having orange in both the dressing and the salad was overkill, and my taste buds were hoping for a more contrasting flavor? I wonder how the balsamic vinaigrette from the rather-similar-now-that-I-think-about-it arugula and strawberry salad would work with this recipe. I know people routinely eat avocado halves with balsamic vinegar poured in the pit cavity, so it wouldn’t be a crazy flavor combo, right? Or possibly, since I thought this salad also needed a crunchy, earthier element like nuts, I should just merge the two recipes and be done with it. I’ll experiment and let you know how that goes. But regardless, I’ll make this again. It’s a tasty way to get your fruits and veggies in one bowl and will make a refreshing light dinner on a hot summer day.

1 navel orange
1 cup strawberries, sliced or quartered
1 avocado, halved, pitted, peeled and cut into ½-inch pieces
2 teaspoons fresh lime juice, divided

1 tablespoon extra-virgin olive oil
3 cups baby arugula (2 ounces)
2ounces mild goat or feta cheese, crumbled
Salt and pepper to taste

1. Cut peel, including all white pith, from oranges. Working over a small bowl, cut segments free from membranes. Squeeze membranes for more juice so that you have 1½ teaspoons of orange juice in the bowl. In a larger bowl, gently toss together the orange segments, strawberries, avocados, and ½ teaspoon lime juice.

2. To the small bowl of orange juice, add oil, remaining 1½ teaspoons lime juice, and salt and pepper to taste.

3. Toss arugula with dressing, top with avocado-strawberry mixture, and sprinkle with cheese.

Serves: 2–3
Time: 15 minutes
Leftover potential: Poor, unless ingredients are stored separately (but even then, avocado will get brown)

BALSAMIC STRAWBERRY JAM

When my friend P left the country for a month and gave me temporary custody of all her canning supplies, it seemed like a good time for me to get back into jam-making. I’ve done most of my canning with P and other friends, so I was a little nervous about undertaking it on my own—it can be so laborious (when, say, you’re peeling seven pounds of pears), as well as a little scary (as you obsessively sterilize everything to make sure you don’t give any of your loved ones botulism), so it’s nice to have company. But it’s also nice to be able to can whatever you want whenever you want it, and I was excited about my solo adventure.

Still, I wanted to proceed with caution. I don’t normally spend a lot of time worrying about food safety, beyond washing all my fruits and vegetables and making sure I don’t touch everything in the kitchen with raw-chicken-covered fingers. But canning is one area where I feel strongly about following the proper procedures: using recipes only from reputable sources, following them precisely (because the pH of canned goods is carefully calibrated to prevent bacterial growth, you shouldn’t mess with the proportions of fruit, sugar, and acid), and processing the jars correctly; I’m no expert, but I’ve read enough to shudder when food blogs mention improvising jam recipes, canning things that shouldn’t be canned (for instance, pumpkin butter, which is sadly one of the few things that can’t be safely preserved), or “sealing” jars by flipping them upside-down instead of boiling them. It’s not hard to can things the right way, so why take a risk?

For my inaugural attempt, I went right to the highest authority: The Ball Complete Book of Home Preserving. And right at the front was a recipe for strawberry jam, presented as a simple master recipe to walk you through every single step of the canning process before you move on to more complex endeavors. Strawberries were still available at my farmers’ market for relatively cheap, and strawberry is my favorite kind of jam. Perfect!

I had never made jam with pectin before—I’d just done it the old-fashioned way, slow-cooking pure fruit and sugar until thickened. Even though I know that pectin is a naturally occurring substance that’s found in fruit anyway, it felt a little funny to be emptying that box of powder into my pot, but it sure as hell turned out to be liberating not to have to stand over a pot of simmering, spattering jam for hours on end. With pectin, you only have to cook the jam for a few minutes, making this a doable Saturday-afternoon project that doesn’t make you feel enslaved to the kitchen.

The recipe offered several variations, all of which sounded good (vanilla strawberry, lemon strawberry, and black pepper strawberry may all be in my future), but I was intrigued by the balsamic option, remembering how good balsamic vinegar tasted with the strawberries in this salad. The finished jam doesn’t taste identifiably like balsamic vinegar, but I do think it adds a nice depth of flavor and helps balance out the sweetness. I prefer a less-sweet jam and think this one is right on the verge of being too sugary, though I’m certainly capable of downing several pieces of toast slathered with it, as well as sneaking straight spoonfuls out of the jar on the fridge on occasion.

I was grateful for how incredibly methodical and detailed the Ball recipe is. Heating up the jars in the canner while you prep the ingredients is a stroke of genius that keeps things moving right along—the jars are nicely sterilized by the time the jam is done cooking, and it doesn’t take too much longer to bring the water to a boil after you put the filled jars back into it. Mine took a bit longer because I used 16 4-ounce jars instead of 8 8-ounce ones, meaning that I had too many to fit in the canner at the same time and had to do two rounds of sterilizing and processing—but it was worth it, because those little jars are so dang cute. I want to give them as gifts, and they’re a much more manageable size to transport, as well as to consume before they end up sitting half-eaten in the back of the fridge for months, as big jars of jam tend to do around my house.

You guys, canning is so fun! I love the nifty tools (a funnel, magnetic lid lifter, and jar lifter are invaluable and cheap—I’ll be acquiring my own when I return the borrowed ones to P), the tasty fruits, the scientific precision, and the sense of accomplishment I feel when I’ve amassed a stash of pretty little glass jars full of deliciousness. If you’ve never canned before, this recipe is a great place to start, and even if you’re an old hand, the balsamic twist is worth trying.

7 cups granulated sugar
8 cups whole strawberries
1 tablespoon lemon juice
3 tablespoons good-quality balsamic vinegar
1 package (1.75 ounce/49 to 57 grams) regular powdered fruit pectin

1. Place 8 clean 8-ounce mason jars on a rack in a large, deep pot that is at least 3 inches deeper than the height of the jars. Fill the jars and pot with cool water that covers the top of the jars. Cover and bring water to a simmer over medium heat; do not boil.

2. Prepare 8 two-piece closures. Set screw bands aside. Place lids in a small saucepan and cover with water. Heat just to a simmer over medium heat, but do not boil. Keep lids warm until ready to use. Do not heat screw bands.

3. Measure sugar into a bowl and set aside. (Sugar is added to the boiling jam all at once, so measuring it ahead of time prevents errors in quantities and eliminates cooking delays.)

4. In a colander placed over a sink, wash strawberries in cool running water. Drain thoroughly and, using a strawberry huller, remove hulls.

5. In a glass pie plate or flat-bottomed bowl, place a single layer of strawberries. Using a potato masher, crush berries and transfer to a 1-cup liquid measure. As you accumulate each cup, transfer crushed berries to a large, deep, stainless-steel saucepan. Repeat until you have 5 cups of crushed strawberries.

6. Add lemon juice and vinegar to crushed strawberries in saucepan. Whisk in pectin until dissolved. (To reduce foaming, you may also add ½ teaspoon butter, if desired.) Bring to a full rolling boil over high heat, stirring frequently. Add sugar all at once and, stirring constantly, return to a full rolling boil that cannot be stirred down. Boil hard, stirring constantly, for 1 minute. Remove from heat and, using a large slotted spoon, skim off foam.

7. Fill one jar at a time. Using a jar lifter, remove jar from canner and empty hot water back into canner (do not dry jar). Place jar on a tray or towel-covered counter and place a canning funnel in it. Ladle hot jam into hot jar, leaving ¼ inch headspace. Slide a nonmetallic utensil, such as a rubber spatula, down between the jam and the inside of the jar two or three times to release air bubbles. With a clean damp cloth or paper towel, wipe jar rim and threads to remove any food residue. Using a magnetic lid lifter, lift hot lid from water and center it on jar. Place screw band on jar and, with your fingers, screw band evenly and firmly, just until resistance is met, then increase to fingertip-tight. Do not overtighten. Return jar to canner rack and repeat until all jam is used.

8. When all jars are filled and placed in canner, ensure that jars are covered by at least 1 inch of hot water. Cover canner and bring water to a full rolling boil over high heat. Continue boiling rapidly for 10 minutes, starting timer only when water reaches a full rolling boil. At the end of the processing time, turn heat off and remove canner lid. Wait 5 minutes, then remove jars, without tilting. Place jars upright on a towel in a draft-free place and let cool, undisturbed, for 24 hours.

9. After 24 hours, check lids for seal. Remove screw bands and press down on the center of each lid with your finger. Sealed lids will curve downward and will show no movement when pressed. Jars that haven’t sealed properly must be refrigerated immediately or reprocessed. Rinse and dry screw bands. Wipe jars with a damp cloth or paper towel and loosely reapply screw bands. Label jars and store in a cool, dry, dark place.

Yield: 8 8-ounce jars
Time: 3 hours
Leftover potential: Duh.

FRUIT SALAD WITH MINT

On Tuesday night, I had to pick A up at the airport at an awkward hour of the evening: several hours after the end of the workday (I work right next to the airport), but too early for me to drive all the way home in rush-hour traffic and then all the way back. Luckily, my friend M, who lives on the airport side of town, graciously allowed me to impose on her family’s hospitality and spend the post-work/pre-airport time at their home. They even fed me a tasty dinner. I owed them big time—but luckily, at least the fruit salad I brought turned out to be delicious.

A fruit salad is always a nice option to have at a potluck, barbeque, or picnic (although as a non-eater of most melons, I always feel conspicuous as I try to pick around the omnipresent cantaloupe and honeydew therein), but I never crave fruit salads in my everyday life. Good fruit doesn’t require any adornment, and eating a single fruit at a time is fine by me. Fruit is usually the easy side dish or afterthought in our meals, requiring no more preparation than washing and cutting, and I don’t see the point in complicating things. But then I saw this recipe, originally adapted from Giada de Laurentis, on Cheap Healthy Good, and it sounded so good, with the mojito-like flavors of mint and lime plus the intriguing addition of almond flavoring, which I love. I could make it with three of my favorite fruits—strawberries, blueberries, and peaches (I would have added watermelon, which is frequently paired with mint, but I was at the farmers’ market alone and already had too much to carry without the addition of a huge, heavy melon). I could make it ahead of time. And making simple syrup, prepping the fruit, and whirling the dressing ingredients together in a blender sounded like a manageable amount of work for a Monday night.

I was not wrong. The salad was a little soupy when I served it the next evening (I blame a bunch of the blueberries, which turned out to be squishy right out of the package), but I loved it and it was well received. I had been a little worried that so much mint would dominate the fruit, but it didn’t—blended into the dressing, the mint added a bright, fresh flavor without tasting like a stick of gum. The dressing was sweet, but not too sweet. The salad was supposed to yield 10 servings, but we three adults and two kids pretty much polished it off (well, I had also set aside about a bowl of it for A at home). I will definitely be making this again, and not just for parties, but for regular old home eatin’. What a perfect, refreshing dessert for a hot summer day.

You can use just about any summer fruit you want in this salad (the original version had watermelon and the dreaded cantaloupe, while Cheap Healthy Good’s included mango), but here’s what I did:

1 pint strawberries, sliced
1 pint blueberries
3 peaches, peeled and cubed
⅛ cup simple syrup (1 part sugar to 1 part water; see instructions below)
¼ cup lime juice (about 3 limes)
½ cup fresh mint, chopped
⅛ teaspoon almond extract

1. To make simple syrup, bring water to a boil in a small pot (I used ½ cup, because any smaller amount just seemed unmanageably tiny even for my smallest saucepan; leftover simple syrup can be refrigerated in a glass jar for up to 1 month, either to make more fruit salad later or to make beverages such as lemonade or cocktails). Stir in an equal amount of sugar until dissolved completely. Remove from heat and allow to cool (if you’re in a hurry, stick it in the fridge) while prepping fruit.

2. Wash, peel, and chop fruit as desired.

3. In a blender, combine simple syrup, lime juice, chopped mint, and almond extract.

4. Toss dressing over fruit.

5. Chill (overnight is good) and serve.

Serves: 5-10
Time: 30 minutes
Leftover potential: Good.

STRAWBERRY FROZEN YOGURT

When A and I took our first taste of this frozen yogurt after churning it in the ice cream maker, we both looked at each other and said, “Strawberry Julius.” My version may be a little fresher, but it took me right back to the treat I’d always order at mall staple Orange Julius when I was a kid, my reward for behaving myself after what then seemed like an interminable session of shopping with my mother. I gather from its Web site that Orange Julius has now become just another Jamba Juice/Robek’s clone, offering a wide variety of fruit smoothies with names like “Strawberry Xtreme” and “Tropical Tango,” but back then there were just two flavors, orange and strawberry, and you could get a raw egg blended in if you wanted to. (Ah, the ’80s, when we didn’t care about food safety, didn’t wear bike helmets, and rode in the back of hatchback cars without seat belts!)

Nostalgia aside, this is another great recipe from David Lebovitz (I got it from A Perfect Scoop, but you can also find a version on his blog)—pretty similar to the blueberry fro-yo I made a couple of weeks ago, only you macerate the strawberries with the sugar and alcohol to get the juices going, and you don’t have to press the mixture through a sieve (it’s an option, but I like the little crunch of strawberry seeds). It didn’t taste quite so magically revelatory to me as the blueberry one did, but it was still insanely delicious enough to shatter all my expectations about what frozen yogurt should be, and you can’t beat that brilliant shade of pink. Also, now that we finally have hot weather like the rest of the country, I can testify that this (fairly) light frozen treat is just about the best refreshment I can think of after a stroll on a warm summer night. Considering how plentiful and beautiful Southern California strawberries are, it’s a recipe I’ll make again and again.

1 pound (450g) strawberries, rinsed and hulled
⅔ cup (130g) sugar
2 teaspoons vodka or kirsch (optional, but recommended; I used kirsch)
1 cup (240g) plain whole-milk yogurt (I recommend Greek yogurt)
1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice

1. Slice the strawberries into small pieces. Toss in a bowl with the sugar and vodka or kirsch (if using) until the sugar begins to dissolve. Cover with plastic wrap and let stand at room temperature for 2 hours, stirring every so often.

2. Transfer the strawberries and their juice to a blender or food processor. Add the yogurt and lemon juice. Pulse the machine until the mixture is almost smooth. If you wish, press the mixture through a mesh strainer to remove any seeds.

3. Chill for 1 hour, then freeze in your ice cream maker according to the manufacturer's instructions.

Time: 3 hours 15 minutes, mostly hands-off, plus processing time
Yield: 1 quart (6-8 servings)
Leftover potential: Good

ARUGULA SALAD WITH STRAWBERRIES AND PECANS

I’m not a huge proponent of salad recipes, although I have a few of them. It’s probably the last holdover from my years as a picky eater. When I was picky, salads were a minefield—lots of weird ingredients all mixed up together, usually cold (ugh), usually with too much slimy, oily, sour dressing. Now that I’m a grownup, I love vegetables, am more tolerant of different flavor combinations, and frequently find salads a light and refreshing component of a meal…though I’ll admit I don’t really embrace them as an entrée. And food that’s too chilled still gives me the willies. And I think salads are almost always overdressed—if I could apply the dressing with an eyedropper, I would. But besides, that, salads and I get along just fine!

Usually, if I serve a green salad with a meal, it’s just spring mix and homemade vinaigrette (I like 1 part lemon juice to 1 part olive oil, plus salt and pepper), usually with croutons thrown in at A’s request. If I feel like adding other ingredients, like carrots or mushrooms or broccoli or cucumber, I just…add them. No recipe needed, right?

Except I wouldn’t really have thought to put strawberries and arugula and pecans together with a balsamic vinaigrette. So I’m glad I saw this recipe (originally adapted from Everyday Food) at Ezra Pound Cake, and I’m really glad I tried it. The balsamic-soaked strawberries were a great sweet-tart combination in themselves, and they only got better when paired with the peppery arugula and the earthy nuts. Not to mention the fact that the deep red and green look just beautiful together on the plate. I’ll be making this regularly throughout strawberry season—which, in California, is practically all year round.

No edits needed for this recipe. I halved it, and I used candied pecans from Trader Joe’s because that’s what I had on hand.

½ pint strawberries (about 2 cups), hulled and quartered (mine were quite large, so I sliced them)
2 tablespoons balsamic vinegar, divided
2 tablespoons olive oil
¼ teaspoon salt
¼ teaspoon pepper
2 bunches arugula, trimmed and thoroughly washed and dried
½ cup toasted pecan halves

1. In a large bowl, toss strawberries with 1 tablespoon of balsamic vinegar; let sit 5 to 10 minutes.

2. In a small bowl, whisk together another tablespoon of balsamic vinegar with olive oil, salt, and pepper.

3. To the strawberries, add the arugula, the vinaigrette, and the pecans. Toss to combine, and serve immediately.

Serves: 4
Time: 15 minutes
Leftover potential: Low; the dressing will make the arugula soggy

STRAWBERRY SHORTCAKE

Monday was my thirtieth birthday. Birthdays, especially milestone birthdays, are always an excellent excuse for gluttony, so even though I’d be receiving cake at the office, a Chinese dinner on Monday night, and a beach bonfire with a homemade-marshmallow smorgasbord the following weekend, I decided that on Sunday night, my birthday eve, I should cook some treats for myself. Plus, we had a guest, A’s mom, so I could pass my feast off as hospitality instead of selfishness. I made the infamous Brie pasta (which, due to its all-out decadence and my passionate love for it, I’d prudently avoided making for more than a year) and a nice green salad. Then I made strawberry shortcake.

I’d bought an obscene amount of strawberries at the farmers’ market that morning (a half-flat, six pint baskets, for $8). I sliced about a basket and a half of them and put them in a bowl with some sugar to macerate (hee, I love that word) while I made the biscuits.

Though I’ll contentedly eat strawberries and whipped cream over pound cake or angel food cake, or even those round divoted “strawberry shortcake” bases from the grocery store, I don’t call that real strawberry shortcake. Real strawberry shortcake should be made with biscuits. But since I’m not a baker or a glutton for punishment, and it was my birthday and I felt I deserved to take a shortcut, I made the biscuits from Bisquick, using the recipe on the side of the box (I halved it, so it conveniently made just three). They were easy and they tasted great. But to compensate, I made real whipped cream, which I’d never done before. I chilled the bowl and the beaters in the refrigerator. I poured the cream into the bowl and beat it with the electric hand mixer. It took long enough that I started to worry it would never firm up (and started sighing for a KitchenAid stand mixer), but it finally started to thicken, at which point I added a little sugar and vanilla. Finally, after a bit more beating, I achieved soft peaks. To serve, I broke up the still-warm biscuits with my hands into three bowls, spooned the juicy strawberries on top, and scooped on the whipped cream.

I don’t eat strawberry shortcake often, and whenever I eat it, a tide of nostalgia washes over me. It reminds me, intensely, wistfully, of childhood summers. (Actually, what it truly reminds me of is strawberry pie, absolutely my favorite treat my mother ever made, probably because, given the briefness of strawberry season in Minnesota, it was so rare and fleeting. I never felt like I got enough of it. Now I don’t get my mom’s version at all, and even the inferior store or restaurant versions are hard to find.) Anyway, what I’m trying to say was that this strawberry shortcake was heavenly. Now that I know how easy it is to make, I’m going to be tempted to make it often throughout California’s ridiculously long strawberry season. Certainly I might have to make it again this weekend; after all, I’ve still got at least three pints of strawberries to use up.

1½ pints fresh strawberries
2–4 tablespoons sugar
1 and 1/6 cup Bisquick
1½ tablespoons butter, melted
¼ cup milk
1½ tablespoons sugar
whipping cream
1 teaspoon sugar
1 drop vanilla

1. Preheat oven to 425 degrees.

2. Remove the stems from the strawberries and cut strawberries into ¼-inch-thick slices. Place in a large bowl and sprinkle with 2–4 tablespoons sugar (depending on how sweet your strawberries are). Mix well and set aside at room temperature for about 20 minutes.

3. To make biscuits, stir Bisquick, melted butter, milk, and 1½ tablespoons sugar together in a mixing bowl until a soft dough forms. Drop by 3 spoonfuls onto a greased cookie sheet. Bake 10 minutes or until golden brown.

4. Whip the cream to soft peaks in a cold bowl, adding a teaspoon of sugar and a drop of vanilla.

5. Break up each biscuit into a bowl, spoon strawberries over it, and top with a dollop of whipped cream.

Serves: 3
Time: 30 minutes