copyright the Chronicle July 29, 2015
by Elizabeth Trail
“Try this, you won’t believe it,” said my mother, pushing a small bowl of thinly sliced strawberries toward me. She had the look on her face of someone about to pull a rabbit out of a hat.
I plop food on a plate; my mother creates edible art. I eyed the berries skeptically. These were in a footed glass bowl, garnished with a sprig of mint. The fruit looked dark and glossy, but the lighter inner parts were slightly orange, and there was undeniably a brown liquid in the bottom of the bowl. Not a color I usually associate with summer fruit salad, however elegantly presented.
Mom couldn’t hold the secret for long.”
“It’s balsamic vinegar,” she said triumphantly. “It makes the strawberries taste incredible.
This sounded entirely too much like