Black Raspberries: Summertime in the Midwest

The Fourth of July has always been black raspberry season in the American Midwest. They spread prodigiously on their own, sneaking in along edges of woods, on the weedy backside of a neglected garage or barn, beside country roads, anywhere there is a bit of sunshine that is not repeatedly mowed down. I remember laughing in surprise on a visit to a nursery in a city and seeing black raspberry plants sold for $15 each, because some unfortunate soul might actually have to buy what is considered a weed out here in the country. I have many memories of stopping to forage for black raspberries on the dirt path that takes us to my grandfather's lake, the most recent being yesterday. A July Fourth potluck at my great aunt's lake cottage wasn't complete until someone climbed up the hill out back and came back with a bucket of these precious black gems to round out the dessert table.

Black raspberries tend to be somewhat smaller than their ruby cousins (more so if they aren't getting much sunlight). If you haven't had a red raspberry in a while, black raspberries taste pretty similar. If you just had a red raspberry and pop a black one into your mouth you will notice that the blacks have less tartness, but their sweetness takes on more complexity. In fact, they are nearly floral.

Picking black raspberries is like treasure hunting. And no, the under ripe red black raspberries don't taste like the red raspberries you are probably used to. They cling to the canes so it takes a surprising amount of effort to pry one off. It's not worth it either as they are quite clearly not ripe enough to enjoy.

We have picked several pints worth from our bushes so far this year but we can't get enough! They make wonderful jam and killer ice cream. These rare berries have very little shelf life and are best eaten the day the are picked. They are a taste of the Midwest summer and I'll be preserving them this week.