As I stocked up on hamburger and pork chops at my favourite butcher shop (shout out to Homesteader Meats where the meat is fantastic and only outdone by the friendliness of owners and staff), I decided to buy Mark a treat from the tasty jars of goodness on display in the store. 

Saskatoon Berry jam made in Saskatchewan doesn’t get much more authentic and I grabbed a jar after debating about getting raspberry too, but decided that was a next time purchase.

When we moved to Canada my step-mom said saskatoon berries were kind of dry and gritty compared to the  Himalayan blackberries from our back yard in Oregon that we baked into so many pies and crumbles. And they may be, but by marrying a Canadian who knows good saskatoons from bad, I learned to appreciate the different blue taste a saskatoon berry has from a blueberry and a blackberry.

And I know about berries. I picked berries for Smuckers  and other farms when I was in junior high in Oregon City.  In fact, I was such a good berry picker I bought all my school clothes with the money I made in the berry patch one year.  The berry busses used to pick us up very early in the morning and we would work in the fields and be home by early afternoon to swim the day away in the river.  It was what we all did. So I got to know berries very well. I guess junior high school berry pickers went by the wayside with organized migrant workers, and I think today’s teenagers would cringe at the work, but we had some fun with it back then.

Thanks Last Mountain for the bit of August in April we are enjoying!