Arts!
When am I going to learn?
Never.
The peach gave ever so slightly to the gentlest of touches. Wouldn't want to be accused of squeezing peaches in public. So did the second peach and so did the third.
Get 'em home, and they're not ripe.
They're never ripe.
Except some times. One out of, say, six peach-buying attempts are successful with fruitfully tasting ripe drippy peaches, and the rest of the times they're under ripe or mealy or both. This one is under ripe which means the other two are also. There is no hope for the other two, they will never taste like real peaches.
I just thought of this, the bottle shop downstairs should have peach brandy. Not schnapps, that's going too far.
They're picked and packed for shipment. But these peaches are grown right here in Colorado, not Peru. I suppose I must call up those growers in Grand Junction and ask, "How are your peaches doing up there, eh? Time for me to drive up there and buy about six or so? Is it worth the drive yet?" Then that would force them to go, "I'd give 'em another week, Buddy."
They were helped by cooking and by loading them up with spices which I didn't intend to do. Where they lack developed peachy fructose, I added brown sugar to compensate. Cinnamon, allspice, ginger, butter, dry sherry. Adjusted with water in spits and spurts until the peaches were done.
And, Man, are they delicious now.
The noodles are leftover homemade fennel noodles from a few days ago. They were already cooked, so re-heated in water to refreshen and then fried in seasoned butter. Coriander, cumin, garlic powder, chili flakes, turmeric.
And, Man, are they delicious now.
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