Not the phone, the fruit.
My grandmother used to call them black-raspberries, but they were just regular old blackberries.
I am sure they grew in the lots and fields around where I grew up in Ohio, but I first tasted a hand-picked blackberry in Germany.
Most of the stuff I have eaten off trees first happened in Germany.
You see, I grew up a city girl.
I thought milk came from the grocery store and that mashed potatoes came out of a box
(to the absolute horror of my gourmet Aunt who chastised my mother immediately upon hearing I did not know how to mash a potato).
We ate crab apples directly off the tree, but they were so bitter sour that it was only as a badge of toughness to actually ingest a whole one and live with the stomach ache.
Since then I have had plums, cherries, raspberries, currants, gooseberries, elderberries, pears, apples, and of course, wild blackberries.
Taking walks is a ritual enjoyed by everyone in Germany,
and walking through the farmers’ fields is allowed.
The fields are usually small and separated by lightly wooded areas that are full of brambles and fun places for wildlife to thrive.
That is where you find the wild blackberries.
Warm from a sunny day or chilled from a cold night they are juicy and delicious.
Look for blackberries to show up in flavor combinations this year like blackberry-lavender sorbet or the ginger granola at the Scofflaw in Chicago.
Are you in Chicago?
Try a gin cocktail at Scofflaw, 3201 W Armitage Ave, Chicago, IL.