Strawberry Yogurt Dip

School's ending. The annual slide. Noah's finishing seventh grade with straight A's and a jazz band performance record and a go-kart that now tops twelve miles per hour thanks to motor upgrades I don't understand but Kevin pretends to. Emma's finishing fifth grade, which means next year is middle school, which means my little girl who asked for a horse when she was eight is about to enter the institution of middle school, and I'm not ready. I'm not ready the way I wasn't ready for the farm to sell — it's happening whether I'm ready or not, and the only thing to do is cook and hope.

Jack's finishing second grade. His teacher, Mrs. Henderson, wrote on his report card: "Jack is an exceptional student with a genuine gift for observation and patience. He noticed a problem with the school garden's drainage and suggested a solution that our grounds crew implemented. The garden is thriving." My eight-year-old fixed the school's drainage. The school listened to a second-grader about drainage. Because the second-grader was right. Of course he was right. He's Roger Weber's grandson.

I made a strawberry pie this week from the first Iowa strawberries at the farmers' market. Fresh strawberry pie — not baked, just sliced berries in a pre-baked crust, glazed with a mixture of crushed strawberries, sugar, and cornstarch that's cooked into a shiny red sauce. Topped with whipped cream. It's the prettiest pie I make, bright red and glistening, and it tastes like June even when it's still May. Kevin had two pieces. Emma had one piece and said it was "gallery-worthy." She means the art gallery. She means the pie looks like art. She's not wrong. Sometimes food is art. Sometimes a strawberry pie in late May is the most beautiful thing in the house.

The apple tree has set fruit. Tiny, hard, green apples the size of marbles, clustered on the branches. First year. The tree is doing what trees do: growing slowly, producing cautiously, building for the future one marble-sized apple at a time. Jack measured them. Of course he measured them. "Point-five-inch diameter," he reported. "On schedule."

The pie was the centerpiece — bright red, gallery-worthy, Emma said — but the truth is that when Iowa strawberries arrive in late May, I’ll make anything that gets them on the table fast. This strawberry yogurt dip is what I put out while the pie crust was cooling: sweet, creamy, and finished in minutes, with a bowl of fresh berries alongside for dipping. It’s the kind of thing that lets the strawberries do all the talking, which is exactly right when they’re this good and the school year is this close to being over and you just need something simple and bright and worth celebrating.

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 0 minutes | Total Time: 10 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

1 cup fresh strawberries, hulled
1 cup plain Greek yogurt
2 tablespoons honey
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/4 teaspoon lemon zest
Pinch of salt
Fresh strawberries, sliced fruit, or graham crackers for dipping

Instructions

Blend the strawberries. Place the hulled strawberries in a blender or food processor and pulse until smooth. You should have about 1/2 cup of strawberry puree.
Combine the dip. In a medium bowl, stir together the Greek yogurt, strawberry puree, honey, vanilla extract, lemon zest, and salt until fully combined and smooth.
Taste and adjust. Taste the dip and add more honey if you prefer it sweeter, or a little more lemon zest for brightness.
Chill if desired. The dip can be served immediately or covered and refrigerated for up to 2 hours before serving. The flavor deepens slightly as it sits.
Serve. Transfer to a serving bowl and surround with fresh strawberries, sliced fruit, or graham crackers for dipping.

Nutrition (per serving)

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