Peaches

“Life is better than death, I believe, if only because it is less boring and because it has fresh peaches in it”—Alice Walker.

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I’m not much for spring cleaning, but I do know I have to check out the contents of the freezer in the spring to make way for the new things I hope to store in there when the garden and orchards get in full swing. I found some peaches. I have been craving peach pie for a long time so I made two. And I wonder why I can’t lose weight. I start with my oldest cookbook. It’s torn, stained, pages are missing. I’m surprised I don’t have the favorite recipes memorized by now. But anyway, an older lady gave it to me in the days when I couldn’t afford cookbooks and went to the library for my recipes. I do know how to sew and she, Fern Holder, asked me to hem some skirts for her. I did. I asked for nothing but she gave me a valuable treasure instead- a cookbook. She knew I wouldn’t take money. She knew I would enjoy a cookbook. I stray from the subject…but memories always flood into my mind when I bake. The bowl and pastry cutter, measuring spoons and cups belonged to John’s mom. I think there is a longer history than that to these things, but no one ever bothered to mention it. I also remember that dad, who has managed/owned restaurants for most of his life told me that lard always makes the flakiest pie crust.. I’m out of lard and use Crisco instead and wonder if the crust will be as flaky. Whatever is used it has to be better than those awful frozen crusts you buy at the store. Those crusts know nothing about flaky. I go to roll the crust with a marble rolling pin that no longer has handles and remember the day John’s brother, Marty, knocked it off the counter and broke the wooden handles but not the rolling pin. It still works without handles and I roll out the crusts. The peaches are very juicy. I mix them with sugar and cinnamon and a little flour and remember cutting them up last summer. The day was hot, we had no air conditioning and the peaches were not freestone. And I remember, dressed in practically nothing that I wondered then how the ancestors could stand their long dresses, no air conditioning and the heat while they did the same. Funny thing…remembering remembering. And the fruit is topped off by butter. I don’t know why or what that does. I just know the recipe says to do so. In goes the pie bird to let off a little steam. I love those things. It’s a little bit of whimsy I found and indulged in. I can make 5 pies and all can have a pie bird. And I think of “four and twenty blackbirds baked in a pie” and I know the peach pies will be better than those. On with the top crust and into the oven they go. I still haven’t figured out how to use the electronics on this new stove so my husband sets the timer. We wait. The pies cool a bit. We top with ice cream. We eat.

…And sometime in between there I tried to figure out how to take a few pictures. I'm better at baking and freezing peaches.