“Growing up in the Northwest, picking blackberries was a summer tradition. My grandmother and I would walk the beach in West Seattle searching for the bushes that would drape down steep embankments next to a pile of driftwood. She would instruct me on the best route to take up the pile of dead wood so I could reach the biggest mass of clusters. Even with her failing eyesight she could still spot the best berries. The fresh picked blackberries would get spooned over vanilla ice cream. My grandmother would turn the rest into freezer jam so the flavor of summer would be preserved for the rest of the year.

“The blackberries at Madrona Ranch follow the ephemeral creek that comes off of Spring Mountain. The season is early and short. By Fourth of July the first berries are ripe. All of the exposed bushes are picked first before the berries bake in the summer sun. The bushes that sit further up the creek shaded by the oak trees set much larger fruit. But, you have to get in the middle of the creek to find the biggest clusters. Most of the berries are frozen and used for the Blackberry Apple Pies we serve at Saturday Thanksgiving. But the nicest berries are reserved to honor of my grandmother and simply put on top of home spun ice cream.”

—Brad Grimes