The time is ripe to visit Abbotsford, the Raspberry Capital of Canada! There you’ll find a quintet of ravishing, robust, rubenesque Raspberries red-dy to roll into your heart.
The Giant Raspberries were created by local artist Manjit Sandhu and sprouted out of the verdant British Columbian soil in late 2011. They decorate a roundabout a few minutes west of town where, not surprisingly, there’s been a surge in major car accidents in recent years.
These blushing beauties are certainly stem-pressive atop their 65-foot vine, and are sure to make you rasp in delight. I felt berry small indeed when standing next to them! The Giant Raspberries were built for just $52,000 which, with the rising cost of living, will soon be less than an actual bunch of raspberries.
The Giant Raspberries are the shining centrepiece of Abbotsford’s annual BerryFest. The highlight of the Candian social calendar, this agricultural extravaganza celebrates raspberries, blueberries and strawberries in equal measure. Food trucks, cider carts, a car show and a super scary zipline are just some of the attractions on offer during the three-day bonanza.
There’s even a raspberry-themed bake-off, with the winner being widely lauded as a national hero and paraded through the streets of Vancouver. What a rasp-ectacle!
She wore a Giant Raspberries beret
The kind you find in an Abbotsford store
Giant Raspberries beret
And if it was warm she wouldn’t wear much more
Giant Raspberries beret
I think I love her
I was fortunate to be a guest of honour at the most recent iteration of BerryFest, along with English actor Matt Berry, Aussie rap supergroup Raspberry Cordial, hard rockers Blueberry Oyster Cult and baseball star Darryl Strawberry.
The crescendo came when we were wheeled out in front of thousands to compete in the famous raspberry pie-eating contest. The ornate trophy, inspired by the Giant Raspberries themselves, was matched only in grandeur by the piles of pies we sat behind.
Peering around at my rivals, I saw fear in their eyes. Matt, who I briefly starred alongside in the popular British comedy Toast of London, has a notoriously fickle appetite and a poor history in competitive eating competitions. His robust sense of humour couldn’t help him here.
The boys from Raspberry Cordial had been ladelling chutney into each other’s gullets only hours earlier, so they obviously weren’t taking things seriously. This would be one Taste Test that would leave them gagging!
The Cult, meanwhile, had taken to smoking their pies and had wandered off to sit cross-legged on the grass, staring at their fingers.
That left only long, tall Darryl, a gifted sportsman with a sad history of steroid abuse during his career. “Don’t worry, Mr Strawberry,” I smirked, “I’m sure there won’t be a drug test after this.”
I was in his head and Darryl didn’t stand a chance. This man had stared down the meanest bowlers in baseball history, but he was nothing compared to the inimitable Bigs Bardot. The three-time World Series winner was reduced to a blubbering mess and the elegant trophy was mine!
Then she turned up.
She wore a Giant Raspberries beret
The kind a Hollywood star probably wore
Giant Raspberries beret
She might’ve worn it in Monster’s Ball, but I’m not sure
Giant Raspberries beret
I think I love her
The Academy Award slammed down on the table and my blood ran cold. Halle Berry was more beautiful than words can describe, radiating a healthy glow comparable to that of the Giant Raspberries themselves. Raspberry pie coated her scrumptious lips, but Halle was hungry for more.
“I was hoping there’d be some actual competition this year,” Halle humphed, ignoring yours truly as she squirted whipped cream on the raspberry pies in front of her. “Start the timer, Big Mama’s famished.”
Halle Berry must have hollow legs, because she taught us all how to eat that day. Fifteen pies, then 16, 17, 18. She was smashing the sweet treats like she smashes box office records.
“Bigs,” Halle rasped between gluttonous mouthfuls, “I respect your dedication to Big Things and roadside attractions, but today you’re my bitch.”
Collapsing halfway through my 10th pie, the last thing I saw before losing consciousness was Halle reaching over to my pile so that she could keep going.
When I came to several hours later, BerryFest was over for another year. Halle had headed back to Hollywood with the gleaming pie-eating trophy and the respect of Abbotsford’s vibrant competitive eating community. Wiping raspberry-red drool from my chin, I spied something shining in the late afternoon sun.
Halle mustn’t have had room in her satchel for two trophies, and had dumped the one that meant to least to her amongst a pile of wilting raspberries. I grabbed it as a consolation prize to soothe the turmoil of my failure. The Academy Award wasn’t the trophy I wanted, of course, but it was better than nothing.
A gentle reminder to Halle Berry
Halle, babe, whilst we shared a memorable afternoon together and I find you both beautiful and talented, I would appreciate it if you stopped calling me and liking all my posts on Instagram. Sure, I’m flattered, but your behaviour comes across as a little desperate. You know I’m not that way inclined.
