In other news, this Little Miss has taken to eating homemade raspberry jam, plain, by the spoonful.
I love it.
But really, what's not to love?
Raspberries are beautiful.
Bright red. Tangy and tart. Sweet. Soft.
Juicy. Delicious.
Reminds me a whole heap of my father, who loved raspberries.
And, incidentally, loved jam.
Bread was really just an excuse for jam.
The ratio was pretty much a spoonful of jam for every bite of bread.
(Actually, a few years back, I discovered that his father, my sweet Grandpa, also eats it the same way. It cracked me up.)
Once, as a small person, my grandmother found my dad going to town on the counter, eating jam from the jar.
His response?
"What, mom? It's my medicine."
The ratio was pretty much a spoonful of jam for every bite of bread.
(Actually, a few years back, I discovered that his father, my sweet Grandpa, also eats it the same way. It cracked me up.)
Once, as a small person, my grandmother found my dad going to town on the counter, eating jam from the jar.
His response?
"What, mom? It's my medicine."
So yeah.
Generational thing, I guess.
Generational thing, I guess.
Her Poppi would be so proud.
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