You’re a peach

Like many of our expressions, “You’re a peach,” originated from an odd tradition. People would give a peach to someone they liked.

Just a note…if you like me, instead of a peach, you can bring me an ice coffee from DD… medium dark roast, pistachio cream, two creams no sugar.

Anyway, the peach trees at the farm produced fruit this year. When we first moved here, they appeared dead, but Michael pruned them way back and that seemed to do the trick. 

We picked the peaches this weekend. It’s funny how organic fruit from a backyard orchard does not look like store fruit. Lumpy, bumpy, bug holes. But the kids picked for about 30 minutes. 

These look pretty nice, but most of the peaches are oddly shaped and bruised. But most of the time the ugliest ones tasted the best. 

A backyard kitchen was set up. The fruit was sorted into eating peaches that looked pretty and peaches for cooking. 

I am pretty sure it was the hottest day of summer so far. 

We cut about two gallons. Ate about a dozen. 

Sorting

Organizing

These were the best looking

The kids used the vegetable peeler.

Trying to cut the skin off.

That night I made a peach cobbler. I tweaked the Bisquik recipe and took away the nutmeg and just sprinkled cinnamon on top. The recipe said 50 minutes to bake, but mine only needed 40. The cobbler was warm and served with ice cream. I am not a fruit dessert person, but this was pretty good. 

Cobbler

To take our peaches to the next level, our friends from Straight Branch Harvest gave us some honey. The honey drizzled over the peaches…whoa. I felt like a pioneer discovering a new dessert. (I had the American Girl Kirsten and was obsessed with coverd wagons and going out west when I was a kid.)

Honey from Straight Branch Harvest

So if you’re feeling peachy, let me know, and I’ll try to get you a few peaches. If you come up with a new recipe be a peach and tell me.