If you've never been to the Hudson River Valley, there's a lot you're missing. Not only is it dubbed "New York's American Masterpiece," but it's one of only a handful of official National Heritage areas in the country.
Living here definitely has its perks. Jen and I reside in the foothills of the Shawangunk Mountains, surrounded by orchards and wineries. In the summer, there's a lot of u-pick going on, and since we're fresh food junkies, we decided to get in on the action last weekend.
On a hot tip from our go-to nutritionist Holly, we hit an orchard right down the road from our house. Never having u-picked before, we asked the teenagers in charge how to proceed. They handed us a utility bucket and sent us into a maze of cherry trees.
Not one to ever figuratively (or literally, it turns out) pick the low-hanging fruit, I stood under each tree, diligently plucking only the best-looking cherries, most of which were above my head. Meanwhile, Jen bolted randomly through the trees, calling out to me, "Erin, I hit the jackpot over here! Oh wait, here's a better one!" I think she only took about 5 cherries from each tree.
We had only been at it about 15 minutes when our bucket started getting full. I suggested that maybe we should stop. Jen said, "Oh come on. Let's just fill the bucket. How much could it possibly hold, 5 pounds? So we'll freeze some." And as always, I listened to her.
By the time the bucket could hold no more cherries, I had to lift it up and carry it like a baby. The handle was useless. We made our way down the hill and were relieved of our bucket baby by the teenagers. One of them said, "This is $45, easy." Jen laughed. But I knew he wasn't kidding.
We picked 17.4 pounds of cherries.
It took hours for Jen to process them once we got home. We now have a basket of cherries on the kitchen counter, a plastic grocery bag full of cherries in the fridge, 4 jars of cherry compote, 2 gallon-size bags and 4 quart-size bags of whole cherries in the freezer, and a plate full of cherries with the stems on that we're going to preserve in brandy for Christmas.
When I called my mother and told her about all this, the first thing she said was, "I hope they're not pitted."
They're pitted.
The lesson to be learned here is this: If you ever find yourself picking fruit with someone with ADD, don't let them be the one to assess how much fruit is enough to take home.
Later this month, the same orchard has u-pick peaches, and after that, u-pick apples. We're gonna need a bigger freezer.
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Since Jen and I have lost our taste for industrial food, there are very few restaurants we actually enjoy going to. And the ones that do serve traditional food are often pricey "special occasion" restaurants. So in the past year, we've gone from eating out several times a week to eating out once a month, if that. Given the choice, I will enthusiastically take Jen's cooking over some casual dining concoction bearing the word "sizzlin," but I do miss the act of restaurant dining. 
