How is being sick of strawberries even possible? Every night I'm picking a bowful. I'm eating some for breakfast, some as snacks at work, some in the evening for dessert. Martin's eating them. The chickens are eating them. If I could get them into the cats I would.
I wish I had a proper dehydrator so I could dry them and use them on my porridge for the next few months. Freezing has a tendancy to turn strawberries to mush, which makes it tough to use them for any aesthetic reason like nice desserts or cakes, and I already have way too much jam in the cupboard to make more.
Unfortunately, as we are on a self-imposed budget at the moment buying a dehydrator is out of the question. I could put it on a credit card and pay it later, but I'm not going to. Instead it goes on my Christmas list and I will do better next year with preserving as I will be prepared. By then this year's baby plants will be adult plants and I'll have even more strawberries, especially as Martin and I are working on adding another three long rectangular growing beds in the main part of the garden, one of which will be devoted to soft fruit.
Until then I guess I probably will freeze what I can - I doubt I will mind the mush that much when it's all mixed in with porridge.
Posted with Blogsy
Comments