We recently got a giant box of peaches. A giant box of peaches may be an everyday occurrence at your house, but it is certainly not in mine. And it made my mind meander all kinds of places, finally ending in a really happy place.
It was recently pointed out to Mrs. JP – – – Hold up here, we must fix something.
I began this blog referring to my more attractive half as Mrs. JP. She tends to be a fairly private person and I was not about to out her among the crazy inhabitants of NetLand. Not you, of course. Just them. But nothing is forever, it seems, and Mrs. JP looked at me one evening this past week and suggested that I start using her name. “Mrs. JP sounds like you own me or something.” Which is certainly not true. I like to think of it as more of a mutual ownership thing, seeing as how we are married for life and take each other for walks and things. So, here we go into a new era at this Blog.
As I was saying, it was recently pointed out to Marianne (the former Mrs. JP) (well, not the former Mrs. JP because we are still married) (the Artist formerly known as Mrs. JP?) (She is going to hate all of these segues, so I had just better move along) that (you didn’t remember that we were still in the middle of a sentence, did you) there was a thing called The Peach Truck . You put in an order online and then weeks and weeks later the truck comes to town and presents you with a giant box of fresh Georgia peaches. Which you pay for, of course.
We knew that we would not eat an entire giant box of peaches on our own and so went halfsies with the lovely young lady who dates our son (maybe someday we will use her name too) and so we did. The lovely young lady even volunteered to pick them up. And then refused to take the money for our half. (We are already plotting our “get even” move by deciding what we will insist on buying and giving to her). Anyhow, a half of a giant box of peaches took up residence in our house. Smelling just delightful, I might add.
In case you are wondering about the title to this tale (there he goes, into another segue again), this peach situation reminded me of a book my kids read in something like 4th grade – James And The Giant Peach. I have not read it, but heard my kids discuss it back when it was coming home with them every day, and so naturally my mind went back there when I was in possession of a Giant Peach box (or at least half of one).
Now let’s get this out there – we are not normally “Peach People”. Well, maybe in our complexions. But as for just grabbing a fresh peach and biting into its fuzzy, juicy goodness, well this is not a normal state for us. We are usually more Apple People. Except in our phone and computer choices, anyway.
Where was I – yes, the peaches. We did eat and enjoy a few, and they were delicious. But in my world there is nothing wrong with fresh fruit that a little pastry and sugar cannot cure. So – – – pie!
We did a bit of research and learned how to do those things that came naturally to generations of farmers. We blanched a whole gob of peaches in boiling water, dipped them in an ice bath, easily peeled the skins from them, cut them up and removed the pits, and then froze what we would not use immediately. Which was nine big, fat, juicy, skinned and cut-up peaches for our very first homemade peach pie.
I will confess one shortcut – we had a pair of frozen pie crusts on hand, the kind you unroll yourself and are indistinguishable from the ones you can make from scratch. We tried a recipe we found online and got to work making a bit of peach syrup and mixing in the fruit.
And then to the oven with it, a process that turned it from this . . .
to this. There was a discussion about whether this recipe was a little heavy on nutmeg, but all in all our initial go at a scratch peach pie was reasonably successful. Though it would have been more successful with some ice cream. But I guess I have added enough success (yes, that’s a good word for it) to my not-underweight frame during our Covid-inactivity, so the pie was probably enough.
Until next time, anyway, because we have at least another pie’s worth in the freezer (if not enough for two). Maybe next time we will go full Laura Ingalls Wilder and do a scratch crust to go with the peaches. Made with lard, of course, because if you’re going to go to all the trouble you may as well go all the way. You only live once, you know, and it’s not like we eat pie every day. And more’s the pity.
And the happy ending? A pie has been shared with some others (and completely consumed), a new experience has been had and there is more where all of that came from. Maybe next time we need to throw a pie party. If you come it’s gonna cost you some ice cream, though.
Opening photo – royalty-free photo from pxfuel.com
All other photos by the author