Aunt Bea
Master Chef
Just returned from the local farmers market with a quart of strawberries and a dozen large brown eggs.
The berries are hulled, sliced and chilling in the fridge, I'm dreaming about an ice cold dish of them under a billowy cloud of whipped cream.
Oh how I miss those warm baking powder biscuits slathered with butter and covered with strawberries and whipped cream!
When we were kids my mother would make strawberry shortcake for our Sunday dinner once or twice during strawberry season, nothing else just shortcake. She filled her big 1950's yellow pyrex bowl with sweetened strawberries and the red pyrex bowl was filled with whipped cream. The huge baking powder biscuits were made to fit into a rimmed soup plate by using a coffee can or large tomato can as the cutter. We would carry everything out into the back yard and eat under an ancient apple tree in the yard. Today a set of those old pyrex bowls will set you back quite a few bucks on Ebay. I guess I'm not the only person that has memories of them. It's funny how we give value and power to things from our past that trigger memories of happy times.
The berries are hulled, sliced and chilling in the fridge, I'm dreaming about an ice cold dish of them under a billowy cloud of whipped cream.
Oh how I miss those warm baking powder biscuits slathered with butter and covered with strawberries and whipped cream!
When we were kids my mother would make strawberry shortcake for our Sunday dinner once or twice during strawberry season, nothing else just shortcake. She filled her big 1950's yellow pyrex bowl with sweetened strawberries and the red pyrex bowl was filled with whipped cream. The huge baking powder biscuits were made to fit into a rimmed soup plate by using a coffee can or large tomato can as the cutter. We would carry everything out into the back yard and eat under an ancient apple tree in the yard. Today a set of those old pyrex bowls will set you back quite a few bucks on Ebay. I guess I'm not the only person that has memories of them. It's funny how we give value and power to things from our past that trigger memories of happy times.
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