When I was little we would go for walks along a private drive that is now covered with many houses. I doubt if our bushes are still there. There was a red raspberry bush and a black raspberry bush. We learned to pick the sun-warmed berries without getting scratched by the rasping thorns or fearing the many bees. It was always hot, and the sweet berries were warm in our mouths and their juices dripped down our little chins. There is not a better taste than eating something you have picked yourself. That is why I like this recipe. It is basic and pure. My mother would argue about the inclusion of corn starch as being a little fancy. Eaten at room temperature these bring me back to Strawberry Hill, and the long warm summer walks we took. And as the winter is winding down we can finally look forward to languid summer days, and all the raspberries we desire.

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