Wild strawberries admittedly have nothing to do with cheese but they're just so darn exquisite. We picked two baskets* (with a little equine interference) and it was definitely worth the sore thighs the next morning.
LC outdid herself with a lemon-raspberry-wild strawberry tart adapted from sassyradish.com.
Life is good!!!
* a note on scale: the two bigger strawberries were grown by a farmer down the road. So, while commercially grown, they aren't those enormous, tasteless monsters (or SSOs -- strawberry shaped objects, as Rebecca Stead writes in her Newbury award winning YA novel, When You Reach Me) held out as strawberries in every grocery store. No siree, the strawberries from Fred's Fruit Market on Hwy 35/115 were sweet, juicy and plump -- but even they can't compare to wild strawberries picked in a horse field.
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