Heaven.
I honestly believe the flavor, texture, juiciness cannot be improved. These are perfect. And anything that I do to them will make them worse.
Say, I sprinkle some cinnamon ... worse.
Say, I freeze it and turn it into peach-snow-cone ... worse.
Say, I turn it into cobbler ... worse.
Pie ... worse
Drink ... worse
Slushy ... worse.
Ginger ... worse.
Ferment it ... worse.
Everything that I think of makes these perfect peaches worse. It's like something that God made then the user comes along and messes it up. When in fact, humans made them, humans hybridized them, and I marvel at what humans have done with the original peaches. The humans made the peaches fit us even more splendidly and the flavor that comes out of these things is not to be believed. It is magic. But their season is so incredibly brief, like a flash in the year, and then we are all right straight back to insipid unusable peaches. We're spoiled. Quite. We won't even touch peaches out of season. Because we have eaten the best.
You must come to Colorado right now, eat a peach, and then leave.
Wouldn't want to overstay your welcome.
4 comments:
Peach ratifia
I had some sit on the counter so long they sort of half fermented. That told me what wine made from them would be like when they are not mixed with grapes.
It is a Peach
liqueur made with brandy, in my case, and with the cracked kernel of the peach. You make it when peaches are the best and age until Christmas.
From Jane Grigson’s Good Things
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