The locally-grown red raspberries we find in the stores and farmers’ markets in early summer and again in fall are descendants of the wild European raspberry. But in the northeastern United States there is another red raspberry, commonly called the wineberry (Rubus phoenicolasius). Wineberries were brought to the United States from China in the late 19th century and escaped the berry patch to take their place among the wild treasures of the fields.
I have never seen wineberries sold commercially. Those who tramp the eastern meadows will find them growing along east-facing edges of woods and dappled, shady roadsides. When they begin to ripen they are orange or orange-red, but even kids soon learn to be patient and wait until they turn a deep, dark, jewel-like, translucent ruby-red. Then they become sticky, very fragile, and indescribably delicious. More than once I have waited for a precious patch of wineberries to ripen fully, only to find that when I went for them, someone ignorant of their possibility of perfection had taken them all too soon. As you can see, I am tormenting myself with memories of hot, humid, mid-July afternoons in Pennsylvania, gobbling wineberries until I could eat no more.
Unless I decide to visit the Northeast in mid-July, I must now content myself with red raspberries. But that’s not so bad, is it?
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