Introduction
The below dispatch from Arthur Machen is both brief, and, for our current purposes, out of season. However, since he suffered from the drought of June 1919—this will be covered in the next installment—we may suffer with him, at least with regard to being unable to pick fresh strawberries in November. This article is also interesting for it predicts the topic and format that Machen later used for his column, “At A Man’s Table.” It even provides a recipe!
A Strawberry Idyll
by
Arthur Machen
June 18, 1919
And so the best berry that God made is scarce and dear this year.
I am sorry for it. The strawberry is a great part of our English summer; it is part of the splendour, with sunlight and wild roses swaying from hedgerows, and cool cups and asparagus and solemn, scented nights. If the strawberry be missing, the great resounding chord of summer is not complete.
I am not sure, but I incline to think that children get the best out of the strawberry, as they get the best out of many things in the universe.
A hot July day, a deep lane in the west country rich with crimson earth, flourishing with ferns, cool and overshadowed with rustling beechtrees: such was the scene of the wild strawberry hunt.
You got a fine blade of a certain sort of rigid grass, and on this you impaled your wild strawberries, one by one, as you found them in nests of leaves, brilliant spots of vivid red.
When the spike of grass could hold no more, then was the moment. The dozen or so of tiny strawberries became a delicious mouthful; and indeed there is a fragrance about the flavour of these hedge berries that garden fruit can never boast.
The Harrow “Dringer”
In general, I am not so sound as I should be as to our Great English Public School system. I can see, or think that I can see, very grave faults in it; but it has done one great thing.
It—or Harrow, to be precise—has invented the Dringer—perhaps the most exquisite way of enjoying the garden strawberries.
And this is a Dringer: You make a Strawberry Ice, using strawberries, cream, and sugar—no custards or substitutions of that kind—in the making.
Put a liberal portion of this pink and velvety substance on a large plate, and then put beside it a larger portion of fresh strawberries, cream, and white sugar. Then mingle all together and bless the memory of the inventor, the boy Dringer, who found time amid the distractions of Footer and Latin Verse and much laborious nonsense to think great thoughts.
The Weekly Machen
Previous: Through a Door Off Oxford-Street
Next: Six Weeks’ Drought
darklybrightpress.com 
Fun – thanks!
I’m not sure I’d agree about “the best berry that God made” – liking gooseberries, red currants, brambles, blueberries, cranberries, and raspberries (at least) as much as I do – but I must admit, the wild strawberries which somehow turned up in our garden are exceedingly bland, and I do not think I’ve ever had a proper wild one like he describes!
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I have no experiences with wild strawberries, having lived in deserts for most of life. (Personally, I have a great affection for blueberries and blackberries.) Since I am replying to a Tolkien scholar, do I remember correctly that the Hobbits experienced refreshment from wild strawberries? They are certainly a powerful symbol in Ingmar Bergman films. A pretty hieroglyph all around! May you and I both taste a berry as great as Machen describes!
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Wow – well remembered! I had to go check – and the Tolkien Gateway has an article entitled “Strawberries” confirming it with references to both The Hobbit and The Lord of the Rings. (Bergman came immediately to mind – but without details.) A quick word-search in Internet Archive scans of the 1981 edition of Tolkien’s Letters and The Tolkien Family Album did not find any references – though there may be something among all the restored gardening and domestic references in the “Expanded” edition of the Letters which I’m not remembering.
Thanks for your good wish – may it be so!
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