My nephew Declan agreed to take me raspberry picking on the condition that I promise not to divulge the whereabouts of the best picking spots. All I will say is that we walked deep into the large wooded park a few blocks from my brother Patrick’s house in one of the outer boroughs. Patrick and I acted as spotters, and each time we pointed out a cluster of ripe berries, Aidan would call “Dibs!” before diving head first into the brambles, undeterred by the thorns of the wild roses that always seem to grow alongside the raspberries.
Patrick didn’t think we’d find much since many of the bushes were already picked clean, but Declan, Aidan, and Maggie were determined pickers, and once we got off the main path there were plenty of ripe berries to be had. The berries were tart and juicy, smaller than cultivated raspberries, and brighter in color. We came home with about three pints of berries, which made it into Samantha’s delicious summer fruit tart. There were even some left over to go on top of a couple of cakes.
[Photos by Patrick]