Elias froze. "Tart cherries. Fresh, if you have them. Frozen or jarred if you don't."
Elias walked to the shelf. There they were. Not the bloated, purple-black cherries of the supermarket, but bright, fire-engine red globes suspended in clear nectar. where can i buy tart cherries
"Looking for the sour stuff?" a voice rasped from behind a wall of honey jars. Elias froze
"Not the same," Elias would mutter, adjusted his glasses. He wasn't looking for a snack. He was looking for the sharp, electric tang of a Montmorency—the true tart cherry. His grandmother’s pie recipe didn't ask for "sweet." It demanded a flavor that made your jaw hinge ache. Frozen or jarred if you don't
Marty chuckled and pointed a calloused finger toward the back corner. "I don't stock the fresh ones this late, but I keep the 'baking gold' in the glass jars. Grown in Traverse City. Packed in their own juice. No sugar added."
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