Strawberry Shortcake

As a content workaholic in the early stages of my career, I often let summertime slip by me. By the time I’ve realized I could have taken some time off to wander in the sun, it is usually the end of August, which leaves little time to plan for big adventures that often are reserved for the summer months. Time doesn’t necessarily pass by me with much regret, but the moments of longing for the snow to melt, while the flora emerges as each day grows longer does make me reminisce about the summertime food that I looked forward to as a child when I lived in California. It's interesting to contemplate the small and fleeting moments that, by nature, appear so transiently, yet with age hold such a significant memory. One such memory is the very simple strawberry shortcake. And no, it wasn’t the kind that my grandmother made (my family members are all immigrants from Cambodia). It was a simple variety of strawberry shortcake that we could afford growing up: fresh local strawberries, sugar, whipped cream, and store-bought prepackaged shortcake.

Every year during the summer months, the grocery store would strategically place these prepackaged spongey yellow shortcakes next to the fresh strawberries. These dessert shells usually came in packs of 4 or 6 and were affordable yet deceivingly indulgent for a frugal family who lived mostly on rice, chicken, and local produce. They were a treat. And every year as I child, I fell for this marketing scheme and begged my dad to get them. He often would oblige, since he enjoyed sweets himself and would find modest ways to treat his children. Quite fortunately, we lived near a strawberry farm and would frequent the fields to pick the berries and purchase them in the little plastic green baskets sold by the boxes. I remember each strawberry being very large, red, and fragrant. Biting into them, my tastebuds would be flooded with juicy sweetness. As an adult, I don't think strawberries taste like they did in my childhood.

Once home with all of the ingredients, compiling the strawberry shortcakes was rather simple. My dad would cut up the strawberries and mix them with some sugar. During the mixing process, the sugar crystals would create tiny abrasions on the raw strawberries, causing the fruit juices to mix and melt with the sugar. We would fill the small sponge cakes with Cool Whip and top them with the sugary strawberry mixture. Over time, the juices from the fruit would soften the shortcake, creating a delicious soggy mess. And that was it. That was my favorite summertime treat. I looked forward to it every single year.

Eating strawberry shortcakes with my dad is a treasured memory. I’ve never felt that I had much of a childhood filled with the conventional events that children “ought to go through” like birthday parties, playtime with neighborhood friends, the company of loved ones at BBQs, or going on big family vacations. But I don’t lament over the fact that I never did. The dearth of such experiences is one of the unique conditions that makes me the person that I am today. Whatever I may have “missed out” on as a child, I indulge in—if I choose to—as an adult today. It also makes me look upon these small moments more fondly.

I’ve since moved away from my family, became gluten-intolerant (cursed autoimmunity disease), and haven’t made such a treat as this childhood strawberry shortcake in at least a few decades. However, as I write about it, I couldn’t help but genuinely smile about how this simple and humble little treat made me feel: loved even when it didn’t seem like we had much in our little family. Even if I won’t be taking a few weeks off for summer vacation, if I could recreate this (gluten free of course!) strawberry treat, I sense that it would bring a sort of joy similar to what I felt as a child. I’m feeling a bit nostalgic, so I’d best come up with my own little version of this strawberry shortcake recipe. While it may take a few interations to perfect something so simple, once I do, I can’t wait to share this recipe with my dad when I can visit him again. I think that he will love it.