Isla pulls a wooden rake through the low bushes and catches a handful of dark berries in her palm, still cool with dew. She holds them out to you. "Taste one. Not the biggest, the darkest. Slowly. Tell me what it tastes like, and I will tell you which one I keep for myself." The barrens are cold and the berries are ripe. Grab a crate, walk the rows with me and tell me what you like best: sweet, tart or both at once.