Slutty Strawberries

What a wonderful weekend for family activities. Swimming, playing, killing, and picking strawberries. Our family decided we would go strawberry picking, and do some killing later. We got our baskets, got in the car and drove into farmland a.k.a. hickville. We drove to a rather large farm that will remain un-named. This land was so big it took 20 minutes to drive from one end to the other. I can't imagine owning that much land. I mean I can throw a rock from one end of my property to the other. But this piece of farm was fucking huge. It was so huge I would need a car just to get to the out-house. It was so huge you'd die in an emergency.

We went in the early evening and the sun was shining and it was about 30 degrees. Thank God for wind. Now some might think strawberry picking is some form of crazy entertainment for losers that live in 1920 and have been inbred for 4 generations, but they have never tasted sweet sweet virgin strawberry. What I mean by that is it hasn't been molested, sneezed, or bled on by every farmer, shipper and grocer. After such a terrible heat wave these berries were like ruby drops of rainbow from the sky. And I am not talking about Skittles for those over-commercialized fuck-tards. These strawberries were like virtual moonshine for a hippie-vegetarian.

After picking for about 40 minutes my fingers looked like I had gutted a six-month old cow on this un-named farm. My husband had strawberry goo under his fingernails and it looked like he fingered that whore, Strawberry Shortcake while on her period. Yes it was that nasty.

We paid for our berries, which came to a small kings ransom (we went a little over board) When I got home I hulled half the berries and stuck them in the freezer. Now for freezing amateurs this is how you freeze berries before sticking them in a bag. If you don't do this you will end up with a ball of a red gooey mass that will be mistaken for placenta and you will be arrested if any one sees that shit in your freezer.

The other half was either eaten or made into a pie. Pie is very good. Pie is an icon. Pie is another term for vagina. We all must make pie. But it must be done right, other wise it tastes like cow flop with cinnamon on it. And cinnamon ain't a miracle worker and won't mask the taste of shit. So this is how I made it (BTW, for the blond newbie bakers I made slight changes to the recipes as needed)

Bottom Crust

Filling

Crumble Topping


I did not make a typical flaky crust that you roll out. I hate those things. They are too hard to make and taste bitter. And why would you want to bake your sweet slutty strawberries in a sickly crust? I also didn't add rhubarb because it's too late in the season for that woody sour celery.
I didn't take a picture of my pie because I was lazy and I ate it all before I could take a picture. Plus I just plain didn't care. So I did a google search and this is what I found.