We bought the Barbados cherry that apparently no one else wanted, even though it looked like a nice small tree, and we were intrigued by the prospect of cherries. Real ones: edible ones. Not just flowers that the bullfinches nobbled in England, in our garden there.
Well, we planted the tree some months ago this year, and the cherries are appearing. Most of them are tiny and nowhere near red. But these three — one already compromised by a wormy sort of critter — are certainly ripe. As I said to hubby, they’re the sort of red of the wicked stepmother’s apple for Snow White. They look as though they might well be poisonous. They’re not, fortunately. But what they are is tiny. They are also mild and slightly tart in flavour. They are also, according to the experts, highly perishable. So the only thing to do is freeze them as they come in, three by three and four by four, until I decide to make a jam of them. Or something.