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<\/a>\nI come this evening, however, to talk about sour cherry milkshakes. I promised.<\/p>\n
Of course, all this said, we\u2019ve now reached the part of the post where I have to admit that I don\u2019t actually like the usual vehicle for sour cherry consumption, by which I mean cherry pie. I don\u2019t like cooked cherries in general. I am not a real American. On the upside, I\u2019ve discovered that I love raw sour cherries, particularly when they\u2019re whizzed into a shake.<\/p>\n My friend (and Spilled Milk<\/a> co-host) Matthew taught me about this recipe, which, like a lot of my favorite things to eat, is so simple that it hardly counts as a recipe. You take raw sour cherries and toss them into a blender, zizz them until they liquefy – I thought about typing\u00a0\u201care pureed,\u201d\u00a0but really, they do liquefy;\u00a0they\u2019re that<\/i> juicy – and then scoop in some vanilla ice cream and blend some more. That\u2019s it. The result is thick and pale pink, flecked with pretty bits of red cherry skin. \u00a0When you take a sip, what registers first is the acidity of the fruit, a kind of light, almost sparkly cherry flavor, and then comes the sweetness, but not too-sweetness, of the ice cream. It was June\u2019s first shake, and I decided not to tell her that it\u2019s all downhill from here.<\/p>\n <\/p>\n\n<\/a>
\nMost of us know sour cherries in their cooked form, as the kind of cherry that you bake into a pie. I didn\u2019t know them at all until five summers ago, the summer of 2009, when we were about to open Delancey<\/a> and I had no idea how to run a station in a professional kitchen, so our friend\u00a0Renee<\/a> invited me to hang out one evening at\u00a0Boat Street Cafe<\/a>\u00a0and watch the way her kitchen worked. Renee has a sour cherry tree – Montmorency, I think – in her yard, and that afternoon, she had brought a brown paper grocery bag full of cherries. She probably sensed that I felt awkward just standing in the corner, that I would feel better being useful, so she put me to work pitting them. They were bright red, nearly translucent, and they felt like marble-sized water balloons, soft and full of juice. I could ease out the pit with my fingers, Renee showed me, by pulling on the stem with one hand and gently squeezing the cherry with the other, so that the pit slid out with the stem. While she and her cooks finished prepping for the evening, I pitted the bag of cherries, and while my hands were busy with that, I watched everyone bustle around. Later in the evening, Renee cooked the cherries into a quick jam, I think. To serve with pound cake, maybe? I can\u2019t remember. But I do remember that that was the first I knew of sour cherries. (For that and many other things: THANK YOU, RENEE! Sorry I was grumpy and in Antisocial Work Mode when we ran into you at Barnacle<\/a> the other day.)<\/p>\n<\/a><\/p>\nSour Cherry Shake<\/h2>\n
From Hungry Monkey<\/a><\/i>, by Matthew Amster-Burton<\/h3> \n \n <\/header>\n\n