Getting the package of blackberries that you bought yesterday out of the fridge, washing them and putting them into a bowl, sprinkling them with sugar and pouring milk over them...
and them tasting like the butter* we had every year at my grandmother's for Thanksgiving that had been absorbing fridge odors since Labor Day. Bleck!!!
For real.
Gotta find a farmer's market this weekend. And I need to get my mother-in-law to bring me some clippings from her blackberry bush so I can, once again, have my own blackberries in my own backyard.
*Growing up, my parents used margarine and the only time I had butter was at my grandmother's house. It wasn't until I met Mr. Swizzle that I discovered this wasn't what butter actually tasted like.
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