XIX

Although I love living in this concrete jungle that is New York, sometimes a weekend away from the city is just what the doctor ordered. I almost forget what fresh air smells like and how nice it is to have space to myself. Even if only for 2 days, Connecticut was my portal through a coat closet and the Jones Family Farm my Narnia.

I was still rocking Oshkosh overalls (circa 8 years old) the last time I went strawberry picking. I have a long list of things I'm determined to to do this summer and this was one box I couldn't wait to check off. The great thing about fruit picking is that it is an all-weather, all-seasons activity. Despite the slight drizzle on our picking day of choice, we were determined to come away with a bushel of strawberries. I suppose our determination may have had something to do with the fact that we had already talked about how we would use our pickings: strawberry shortcakes for dessert and biscuits slathered with the homemade raspberry jam, that I picked up at the market, with fresh strawberries on the side for breakfast. We were on a mission. At this point our taste buds wouldn't take "no" for an answer.

One of the farm's rules was that you couldn't eat the strawberries until you had paid for them. Definitely understandable; but that clearly didn't stop Alex from eating one...or one-hundred throughout our hour on the farm. Who could blame her?

Once you start picking, you felt like you're on a treasure hunt. We ended up with not one but two of these! Oh fresh berries, how I've missed you. I'm used to the massive, homogeneous and fairly tasteless ones that my mom picks up from Costco. Those can't even begin to compare to the ripe, juicy, small jewels of delicious red love we found on the Jones Family Farm.

I don't have any photos of the strawberry shortcakes because they were devoured before a picture could be taken. I was able to get pictures of breakfast. Here are the biscuits waiting to be slathered with some delicious jam. I don't do small when I make biscuits. I like mine to be massive because, well, that's how biscuits should be: large in size and filled with buttery goodness.

Why, hello there, amazing red raspberry jam. My office supplies us with Smucker's jelly and I like Bonne Maman jam in a pinch, but, like anything else homemade and from a farm, it is just not the same as the raspberry jam we had. There is a lightness and a lack of chemical aftertaste when you eat fresh jam. It was the perfect complement to the buttery biscuits and succulent strawberries.

It's so rejuvenating to take the time to make and share a meal with friends over a great conversation instead of going to the usual loud bar spending money you don't have. It's easy to get caught up in the whirlwind that is New York City that I forget how enjoyable it can be to travel a mere train ride away and spend time with friends.