Say It Ain't So!

          For years I have been bragging about the Bear Lake Raspberries grown in northern Utah, where I grew up. There’s something about the 6,000 ft. elevation and the chilly climate that makes the plants store more sugar. And that creates the sweetest raspberries known to man. Who knows, maybe even the sweetest people—ha!

Everyone in the vicinity, which includes Southern Idaho (and yes, Napoleon Dynamite felt like a documentary of my childhood) would go to Bear Lake and pick them. Our moms would make jam and it was the sweetest, pinkest, most glorious jam on earth.

Years later as we experienced “store bought jam” or even fresh raspberries grown in other areas, we would grimace, and then bore everyone around us with tales of better berries. We became Raspberry Snobs. Here’s a Vacherin I made, topped with these sweet little gems:

And a cake of mine:

And a creme brulee I topped with them:

But then (cue the sound effect of a needle screeching across a vinyl record), a few years ago it came to a halt. A virus nearly wiped out the entire raspberry plant population there, and they had to tear everything out and start over. Which takes a few years. Some of the farmers gave up entirely.

It was a dark and stormy time. Actually dark and stormy would have been good for the berries. It began to look like authentic Bear Lake Berries would be gone for good.

Thankfully, there are a few hardy souls who are working to bring the industry back again. Pictures of the annual Raspberry Days show lots of happy families enjoying Raspberry Shakes, ice cream, and desserts. So add Bear Lake to your bucket list, and enjoy these juicy red nuggets before they disappear again.

Raspberry jam makes a wonderful hostess gift as you make the rounds this Christmas. But until you can be sure it contains authentic Bear Lake berries, give the next best thing: My latest book!  It’s seriously perfect for anyone of any age, and teaches the magic of gratitude. Find A Little Christmas Prayer on Amazon for just $3.49!

Why Do We Call Them Raspberries?

          I love these guys.  They’re plump, juicy, and sweet.  They also look great on my Vacharin, which you can make if you check out the “What’s Cooking with Joni” tab here. And here's another one I made:

          My childhood was in northern Utah, where—I am serious—due to weather conditions the raspberries are the sweetest in the world.  Southern Idaho can also make the same claim.  

          Kids in that area make treks to Bear Lake, where they pick all day, and come home with red fingers, red lips, and full bellies.

          Of course, those areas won’t have raspberry season until late summer, but where I live in California now, farmers’ markets are already bursting with fruit, including these luscious babies.  You do sacrifice some flavor, though (sigh).

          But why do we call them rasp berries?  I checked it out and there is actually a debate about it. Yes, there are not enough things to argue about in this day and age, so three theories have emerged as to how raspberries got their name.  One camp says it comes from “Raspise,” a sweet, rose-colored wine of the 15^th century. 

Some say it could also come from raspoie, meaning “thicket.”

Another group says no, it got the name from its rough, “rasp”-looking surface.

But everyone agrees that it’s pronounced Razz-berry.  I take that back.  In Great Britain it’s ROZZbury. Either way, I’ll take it.  With a dollop of whipped cream, please.

What could be more glorious than curling up with a bowl of berries and cream AND a good book?  Check these out—and remember Mom with one for Mother’s Day!