I remember it like it just happened. But it was long time ago. I was fourteen years old, my brother eleven.
We both sat on the living room couch, looking straight ahead, limp, motionless. But everything around us seemed floating as in a dream.
My grandmother came into the living room. It was no dream. She immediately noticed a bottled of homemade sour cherry liquor on the coffee table. Most of the cherries were missing, some of the pits piled on the table around the bottle. She looked up at us, and to this day, I don’t know what she said. I only remember her body and hand gestures. Her mouth moving, but we never hear a word.
What follows, well, I’ll spare you the details. Let’s just say that a large amount of alcohol soaked cherries inside a child’s body is quick to find its way out. We were lucky that nothing else happened to us. In this case the treatment we received from the cherries was sufficient punishment. The mere mention of cherries turned our stomachs for years.
But that was long time ago. And now I have my own sour cherry tree. These cherries are great for baking. My girls love a sour cherry clafoutis. And I am looking forward to trying my own sour cherry liquour–I have a couple of pints of cherries flavoring some Everclear. Don’t worry–I promise I won’t have too many at once.
Buen provecho!
Dinner with Daniel 