A few years back, before the omnipresent talk of recessions and housing bubbles and job creation, it was going to be another housing development. The pumpkin patch would go –leveled and paved – and in its place, another set of houses squeezed as closely together as possible: cookie-cutter facades masking builder’s grade cabinetry and mirror-image floor plans. But instead, in the epic downturn of the economy, something good came out of it all.
The building stopped. The pumpkin patch remained and the fields were not built over. The grasses grew back and then the bushes and h flowers.
Now it’s a strawberry field. It’s owned by an Asian family and on certain days during the summer, you can see them hunched over, harvesting the fields, nothing but their straw hats -nón lá – bobbing up and down.
And these strawberries warmed in the sun: sweet and soft, with just a twinge of tartness behind a round, sweet flavor are so delicious, you find that you just can’t look at a normal, frankenberry the same way again. They’re lovely and delicious and, even for a girl who’ll take a big ol’ slice of cake for dessert any day, they’d be perfect for dessert just by themselves.