As the groundhog is the harbinger of spring, here in Sonoma, the strawberry announces the arrival of summer.
Growing up in NY, I was never a big strawberry fan. They were the Trojan Horse of fruit - appealing to you with a shiny red exterior, but one bite reveals a dry, white & flavorless interior. During the season, you'd be lucky enough to get perhaps one in ten that was juicy and red through. But in general the flavor was a tart red, with a bitter green edge. Kind of like cheap pinot noir.
When I came to California nearly 20 years ago (wow), the $5 pint of organic strawberries became a rare indulgence. Stacked high at the farmer's market or Whole Foods, giving off an incredible perfume, you could usually count on at least eight of ten of these monster berries to be red and juicy. Once in a rare while, you'd get one that would explode with intense flavors and sweet juice, which spurred me to obsessively eat through the whole pint like an addict, seeking its equal.
Mary Bundschu introduced me to Watmaugh strawberries. Until she passed a few years ago, Mary shared her home with the office staff at the winery. During the summer, she would drive out to the strawberry fields at the corner of Watmaugh and Arnold in Sonoma and buy a flat of berries from the Saetern family stand. She'd take a few into her kitchen, then place the rest of the flat in the entryway; an invitation for all to help themselves.
I'd walk by that flat at least a dozen times a day, never able to pass up a bite-sized berry. And literally every single one was always perfect. The ultimate strawberry, every time, better than any candy dish in any office anywhere.
These days I share an office in Mary's old house with Megan Cassady, our Hospitality Manager, who regularly spoils me as well as she does our winery guests. The other day, she was running out to get lunch and offered to bring me back a sandwich. When she returned, she brought a plate (!) to my desk with a handful of tiny, deep crimson strawberries piled next to my turkey & jack. She'd been to Watmaugh field.
It is now officially summer.
