A Strawberry Solution

For which you don't even need a problem

I TRULY NEVER THOUGHT I’D SEE THE DAY! A few summers ago, I bought so many strawberries at the farmer’s market, week after week, that I finally felt I’d had enough.

There was a farmer in a nearby town who sold them by the bucket. I almost never missed a Saturday, waking up early to make sure I’d catch this strawberry man, then driving back home with my car smelling like heaven.

It was a predicament didn’t last long but the point is: I got tired of strawberries. Plus, they temporarily lost their sexy glimmer, which I’d mentally attached to them back in college when I saw Roman Polanski’s version of Tess of D’Urbervilles. Poor Tess. I liked knowing that, despite its symbolism, the strawberry was something good that happened to her before she made some awful choices and her life went straight to hell.

You could have a lot worse problems than too many strawberries, of course. I was luckier than Tess. I froze some for smoothies and cut the rest up, doused them with lemon and a little honey, then ate them on the homemade yogurt I’d begun making weekly in my instant pot. (If you have an instant pot, this is something you should do; it’s amazing.)

We’re approaching the time of year when summer produce is going to be coming at us fast. I don’t want you to get tired of it. I want you to be prepared—to pay attention and make sure that you grab on to whatever good fortune comes your way, rather than mindlessly tumbling through your life, like Tess, and dying in prison.

So with that in mind, I have a dish that you can make in any quantity when you are cursed with too many strawberries—enough to serve at one of those giant outdoor banquets held on top of a mesa or in a waving wheat field, or just a little cupful if you want it, to eat standing alone in your pajamas over the sink at 2 a.m.

There was a time when the idea of strawberries in a salad seemed like a cheap party trick to me, but I came around. Go to this early issue if you’d like a delicious recipe for a more traditional strawberry and cheese salad on greens, tarted up with candied nuts and dried fruit. It’s really good.

But the salad I have today is both easier and a little more sophisticated. I stole the strawberries with Parmesan from a cookbook featuring the Atlanta chef Billy Allin, whose adored Decatur restaurant Cakes & Ale was known for its Chez Panisse restraint. Allin served his sliced strawberries with nothing but Parmesan and olive oil.

But here I’m going to ask you to also bring out that good bottle of authentic balsamic vinegar you’ve been saving. Wowza. Please don’t use balsamic glaze because: What the hell is that stuff?