On a recent visit to see my son at the University of California, Davis, I wandered into a lab at the Robert Mondavi Institute for Wine and Food Science … as one does. A bunch of students were preparing for a tasting to evaluate some of the strawberry breeds they have been developing.

My food nerd heart swelled, and for the first time in decades, I missed school.

When strawberries are in season, it is incumbent upon us to make the most of those fleeting weeks.

And I can’t think of a better way to put them to use than in a classic strawberry shortcake. If you can find wild strawberries, or at least really flavorful ones from a farmers market (or if you are getting your PhD in food studies with a concentration in strawberries in California), this treat is nothing short of heavenly.

There is nothing difficult about strawberry shortcake. A few components come together in a gorgeous stack of sweetness.

First, the biscuits

I like my shortcake biscuits slightly sweet, but not overly sugary. The natural sweetness in the sliced strawberries will be augmented with a bit of sugar to amp up those ruby red juices. Plus there’s the whipped cream, which can be as sweet or restrained as you like.

Cut out the biscuits as close together as you can, with as little dough left behind on the cutting board as possible. Yes, you can roll the scraps up and cut out another couple of circles, but the more you handle the dough the less tender it becomes.

The tops of the biscuits are brushed with a bit of half-and-half or milk and sprinkled with sugar before they go into the oven, resulting in a beautifully browned and slightly crunchy top.

Make biscuits with some height to them, as you will be cutting them horizontally and then filling them with the strawberries and cream.

The layers

I like a double-decker strawberry shortcake, which definitely requires a knife and fork.

To assemble: The bottom half of the biscuit goes first, then some whipped cream, then strawberries. Then the top half of the biscuit. And then, yes, more whipped cream and more strawberries.

The addition of sour cream to the whipped cream is a pastry chef hack that I learned over the years. It adds more richness, stability and body to the whipped cream, and gives the whole shebang a whole other layer of lushness.

Strawberry Shortcake

Serves 6

Ingredients:

2 ½ cups all-purpose flour, sifted

6 tablespoons granulated sugar, divided

4 teaspoons baking powder

½ teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon kosher salt

Finely grated zest of 1 lemon

¾ cup (1 ½ sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into small cubes

¾ cup half-and-half or whole milk

2 tablespoons melted butter

2 pints (4 cups) fresh strawberries, hulled and sliced

For the Whipped Cream:

1 cup heavy cream, chilled

2 tablespoons sour cream, crème fraiche or mascarpone (optional)

2 tablespoons confectioners’ sugar

1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

Directions:

1. Preheat the oven to 425°F. Very lightly flour a clean counter or work surface.

2. Combine the flour with 2 tablespoons of the granulated sugar, the baking powder, baking soda, salt, and lemon zest in a medium bowl. Cut in the butter with a pastry blender or use your fingers to rub it into the flour until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs. Or, pulse the butter into the flour mixture in a food processor.

3. Add the ¾ cup half-and-half or milk and stir until just barely combined. Turn the mixture onto the lightly floured surface. Use your hands to lightly mix the dough until it barely holds together. Pat it out into a circle or a rectangle 1/2-inch thick.

4. Use a 3-inch round biscuit or cookie cutter to cut out the shortcakes, keeping them as close together as possible to minimize extra dough. Use a sharp biscuit cutter rather than a glass, and press down and pull straight up, without twisting; twisting will hinder their rising as they bake. If you dip the biscuit cutter in flour between each biscuit cutting, it will help prevent sticking. Collect the scraps and re-pat them out into a ½-inch disk, and cut out another 2 or 4 circles when you are done. Try to handle the dough as little as possible.

5. Butter a baking sheet or spray it with nonstick cooking spray. Transfer half the biscuits to the sheet. Brush the tops with a bit of the melted butter. Top the butter-brushed dough with the remaining cut-out biscuits. Brush the tops with a bit of milk or half-and-half. Sprinkle 2 tablespoons of sugar over the shortcakes.

6. Bake for about 15 minutes, until light golden brown. Transfer to a wire rack to cool.

7. Meanwhile, put the berries in a medium bowl and sprinkle with the remaining 2 tablespoons of sugar, or to taste. Toss with a fork, and lightly crush some of the berries so you have some different textures going on and some of the juices are released. Let the berries sit for at least 15 minutes.

8. Once the berries are macerating, make the whipped cream. Place the heavy cream, sour cream, confectioners’ sugar and vanilla in a clean bowl (if you chill it first, the cream will whip up faster.)

9. Use a whisk or a handheld electric mixer on high speed to beat the cream until it starts to form stiff peaks. Refrigerate until ready to use.

10. Just before serving, cut each biscuit crosswise. Place the bottom halves on plates, layer on some strawberries, then some whipped cream. Replace the top of the shortcake, then spoon over some more strawberries and whipped cream. Serve immediately.

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Katie Workman writes regularly about food for The Associated Press. She has written two cookbooks focused on family-friendly cooking, “Dinner Solved!” and “The Mom 100 Cookbook.” She blogs at https://themom100.com/. She can be reached at [email protected].

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For more AP food stories, go to https://apnews.com/hub/recipes.

PORTO, Portugal (AP) — On Porto’s steep streets, several thousands of people celebrated the summer in the way the city has been doing it for decades and centuries: by bonking friends and strangers alike with toy hammers and reveling in the streets all night.

A Christian holiday with pagan roots, the eve of the feast of St. John the Baptist — Porto’s patron saint — is celebrated with fireworks, balloons and lots of grilled sardines. An older St. John’s Eve ritual in Portugal’s second-biggest city involved buying leek flowers believed to bring good fortune and inviting strangers to sniff the pungent plant.

In the 1960s, a local businessman introduced the playful plastic hammer, which has since become the most famous symbol of the Iberian city’s raucous summer solstice celebration.

It’s a “celebration of energy, a celebration of what the city of Porto is,” resident Joao Sousa said, moments after being clubbed with a toy hammer. “It’s to live and relive what our ancestors have given us and be able to still enjoy it today.”

St. John’s Eve — São João in Portuguese — is considered to be the longest night of the year and among the most special for locals.

In the days before the festival, local shops adorn storefronts with miniature dioramas called “Cascatas” that feature figures of St. John the Baptist, scenes from his life as well as depictions of daily life in Porto. A central element in the dioramas are waterfalls, for which the elaborate miniatures get their name.

The dioramas also highlight the holiday’s dual Catholic and pagan roots.

“It is a pagan celebration. It is the cult of the sun, of fire, of water,” said Germano Silva, a renowned writer and historian of the Portuguese city. “The saint enters when Christianity begins. The church in a successful marketing operation adds the saint into the solstice celebration,” he said.

The festival’s essence lies in having the freedom to use a plastic hammer on friends and strangers without starting a fight.

Not even Portugal’s Prime Minister Luís Montenegro was spared. On Monday night, Montenegro took part in the Fontainhas neighborhood overlooking the Douro River. While some revelers took photos with him, others simply saluted him with their colorful plastic hammers.

Tourists took part in festivities, too. Helni Turtaea, a 21-year-old from Finland, said the hammer hitting startled her at first but she quickly saw its charm.

“At first I got frightened when someone hit me … but it has been so much fun because I think it kind of unites people when they are hitting strangers,” Turtaea said.

Porto historian Silva said the celebration is about unifying strangers no matter their differences — beginning with inviting strangers to lean in and smell the leeks a person carried, to now greeting a stranger with a playful tap.

“We don’t know whom we cross paths with, if the person is rich or poor, a doctor or a factory worker,” Silva said. On the night of June 23, he said a stranger is simply “someone who passes by and is celebrating São João with us.”

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Naishadham reported from Madrid.

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Associated Press religion coverage receives support through the AP’s collaboration with The Conversation US, with funding from Lilly Endowment Inc. The AP is solely responsible for this content.

For about two weeks every spring, my letter carrier, delivery drivers and just about everyone else who walks into my yard comments on the deliciously strong scent emanating from the two lilac shrubs flanking the front gate. Most days, the breeze carries the fragrance all the way to the front door or even indoors if the windows are open.

Not many flowers have that power. Some never did. Others no longer do, thanks to breeding that has developed bigger, prettier, hardier and disease-resistant plants at the expense of scent. Most carnations and violas aren’t what they used to be, and even some roses are now fragrance-free.

But if it’s an intoxicating perfume you’re after, there are still some flowers that will make your nose — and your heart — happy.

Choosing the ideal fragrant bloom

Of course, not all lilacs are the same. Syringa meyeri Palabin, the dwarf Korean cultivar I grow, is among the most powerfully fragrant. It’s suitable for zones 3-7. Other lilac varieties that stand out for their scent include Syringa x Josee (zones 2- or 3-9), Syringa vulgaris Krasavitsa Moskvy, also known as Beauty of Moscow (3-7), and Syringa vulgaris President Lincoln (3-7).

Magnolia, especially the southern grandiflora species (7-9), is another highly aromatic shrub or tree that puts forth large, sweetly fragranced flowers you’re not likely to forget. The more cold-hardy sweet bay magnolia (Magnolia virginiana) will provide a similar service in zones 5-10.

Texas lilac, also known as chaste tree (Vitex), is a beautiful specimen with purple flowers that bloom in midsummer, imparting a delightful scent that wafts through gardens in zones 6-9.

Old garden roses, the original heirloom varieties that haven’t been tinkered with, are less popular today than modern hybrids and cultivars, in part because they bloom just once a year. But their powerful, true-rose fragrance is worth the tradeoff. Consider roses in the tea, gallica, damask and alba classes for the most intense scent.

As far as vines go, the scent of star jasmine (Trachelospermum jasminoides), a climbing evergreen vine with star-shaped white flowers, will stop you in your tracks. It’s perennial in zones 7-10; elsewhere, grow it with support in a large pot placed where you spend most of your time, then move it indoors over winter. Although not related, common jasmine (Jasminum officinale) also smells as good as it looks.

Dutch — or common — hyacinths (Hyacinthus orientalis) make the early spring garden smell delightful. Think ahead and plant a grouping of bulbs by the front door in autumn in zones 4-8.

Sweet peas (Lathyrus odoratus), not to be confused with edible garden peas, are annual plants beloved for their intense, sweet aroma. Other beautifully scented annuals include heliotrope (technically a tender perennial in zones 9-11) and flowering tobacco (Nicotiana), although, these days, some varieties are more fragrant than others. When shopping, let your nose be your guide.

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Jessica Damiano writes weekly gardening columns for the AP and publishes the award-winning Weekly Dirt Newsletter. You can sign up here for weekly gardening tips and advice.

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For more AP gardening stories, go to https://apnews.com/hub/gardening.