A Confluence of Summer and Nostalgia

I had some strawberries from the neighborhood farmer’s market going begging in the fridge. That’s a phrase my grandma would use when something worthwhile was being ignored. These strawberries were definitely worthwhile (little bright red ones), but they had been sitting around for a couple of days. They were past their prime.

The night before I had found a thread about memories of Berkeley in ‘70’s and 80’s, and it was like going through an old scrapbook. They wrote about all of my favorite places (The U.C. Theater, Edy’s, Monterey Market, Café Roma and on and on) and helped me remember my first espresso (Caffe Med), buying my first album (Cat Stevens’ “Teaser and the Fire Cat”), my first job (selling bagels at The Bagel Works on Telegraph). Another memory crept in too, sitting in the sun on a surprisingly warm afternoon drinking a coffee frappé. I don’t remember the name of the café (except that it was in the same Northside complex as The Melting Pot and Top Dog), but I do remember being very happy with a book, the sun, and this icy drink.

The two came together: the strawberries and the memories of Berkeley; I made strawberry frappés.

I crushed some ice in the blender, added some milk to make it a liquid, then added the edible parts of the strawberries (it seemed many had gone begging too long). I poured them into tall glasses, and we sat in the sun sipping. We had to return to the kitchen for an adjustment, sugar. Even the red, red strawberries need a little boost.