Why Rainier Cherries Are My Favorites

Growing up, I was fortunate enough to be very close with my maternal grandparents, and when I was in junior high and high school, I would see them every day.  Entering old age and adolescence are both difficult transitions, but there was a certain solidarity between us, and I knew my grandparents understood me more than anyone else.  All day long I would quietly glide through the school day hoping no one would really notice I was there, and the thought of coming home, seeing my grandparents, and then heading off either to my after school job or to my mother's old room to do my homework was the light at the end of the tunnel.  I could be me, and the world was suddenly bigger and more real than at school.

I'm only just now realizing that food played quite a role in our relationship.  There was the summer I managed to grow exactly three peas and a single green bean under my grandmother's kitchen window, and the popcorn the three of us would munch as we watched Wheel of Fortune in the evenings.  I remember the savory smell of sauteed onions drifting upstairs every night while I studied, the burnt edges of cornbread I craved, tough, ketchup-smothered meatloaf, and the sizzle of bacon waking me up on Saturday mornings.  Objectively, there was nothing special about this Depression-era cooking, but to my eyes, there was an almost shy bit of elegance to the leaf of lettuce Grandma would dollop cottage cheese atop, and a twinkle of humor in my grandfather covering his peas with honey "so they wouldn't slip off his fork".  Like I said, old age and adolescence are hard transitions, and I wish now that all three of us had savored those moments more.

But the memory that came back to me this past weekend was of that single, glorious day every summer when my grandmother would bring home a bag of Rainier cherries.  The availability of these gems for us in Illinois was so short lived that it can't even be called a season, but the event took on an almost holy tone as we marveled at these exotic, pale cherries.  We'd sit at the table and eat them all up in one go so that the moment seemed even more delightful.

Just yesterday, Mr. Mersy and I were driving along towards Mt. Rainier when we passed a roadside stall selling Rainier cherries.  How could I resist?!  And at a fraction of the price!  The man running the stand called me "doll" and told me the cherries were only half as sweet as I was, but instead of rolling my eyes and reminding him that I ain't nobody's doll, all I could think was how much I wished my grandmother was there with me to pick out a pint of Rainier cherries and eat them in the afternoon sun.

What are your summertime food memories?  I'd love to hear your stories!

Lots of love,
~Mersydotes