How does one begin to describe perfection? Well, I first tasted this fruit in Washington nearly a year ago and have fantasized of it since. I've dreamt of a giant claw foot bathtub filled to the brim with thimbleberries, wondering if I would ever see them again. That day has come. Hiking through northern Idaho on a painfully soggy morning, I saw the beaming red berry burst across the trail and nearly lost my mind in pure bliss.
Everything about it is perfect. Let's start with its color. I'm imagining a snow princess dressed in a crimson velvet cloak, and I'm certain it was dyed this color from the juice of this berry. The deepest, most vibrant blood red imaginable. Have you ever felt like you can taste a color?
Devine texture - they are so delicate that they roll into your fingers at the slightest touch, producing a single drop of juice in your hand to stain it for a lasting memory. Soft velvet. And the flavor... OH, the flavor! The sweetest perfect sour. Sometimes, I try to collect ten berries to pop in my mouth at once for a full explosion of taste. I go on and on in my head, wondering if this is an exaggeration, and then I eat one more to confirm that all I write here is completely true. Grandmothers and chefs around the world spend so much time creating recipes and flavor combinations to bring joy to our faces, but this fruit needs no altercation. It, alone, can make a grown man cry with pleasure.
You know what the best part about the wild snow bramble is? I usually find them growing on steep, rocky, sun exposed inclines, when I'm exhausted and frustrated. Nothing is better than a taste of divinity to ease the struggle.
If I was wrongly accused of a heinous crime and sentenced to death, my last meal on earth would include one pound of this goddess fruit.