DATE: Sunday, July 27, 1997                 TAG: 9707240225

SECTION: FLAVOR                  PAGE: F1   EDITION: FINAL 

COLUMN: MORSELS

SOURCE: RUTH FANTASIA

                                            LENGTH:   36 lines

IN THE MIDST OF THE CITY, SHE HEEDED THE CALL OF THE WILD BLACKBERRY

IT WAS a fortuitous parking space.

I had to run an errand and, as usual, the only parking space I could find was at the far end of the lot. I slipped into the space, grumbling, and got out of the car. As I shut the door I noticed them sprawled along the fence.

Blackberries.

Wild blackberries, to be specific. Scattered for yards on either side of my car, glistening in the summer heat, just waiting to be picked. I went inside the store.

I made my purchases quickly and trudged across the parking lot. I wanted those berries. But it was hot. I was dressed in some of my finest work clothes. And I didn't have anything to put the berries in

Yes I did.

There were trash bags in the glove compartment. If I was careful, I could do this without tearing my clothes and, well, 98 degrees isn't that hot.

Within 30 minutes I'd picked about a pound of berries. I hustled back to work, sweaty, arms cut from the thorns, but with a bag of berries.

That night I whipped up a blackberry crisp for dessert. It was . . . tasty, but seedy.

Very seedy.

Those wild berries aren't nearly as good as I remember from my childhood. Foraging may not cost money but you pay for it in time and scrapes and scratches. Next time I want berries, I'll buy the cultivated, thornless varieties. ILLUSTRATION: Color photo

The cultivated, thornless blackberries...

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