All things PEACH, including a pie

This is my summer of peach pie perfection. I am getting close! But first, a paean to the humble peach.

A good peach is really hard to beat. For starters, I adore their coloration. Peaches show that pinky-coral, yellow, and green marry winningly. Peaches are in a state of perennial blush, as if they are always in love and happy about it. 

I admire anything that continues to ripen once picked. It gives you a bit of stress-free leeway really. I mean, as much as anyone loves peaches, there are only so many of anything once can eat in a day. And so it's nice to know that a row of peaches sunning on a sill will be able to make you happy for many days on end.

Although I don't like to eat peach skin, I do love the way unpeeled peaches feel, especially if you've just picked them and they're still warm from the sun. They are soft, fuzzy in a lovely teddy-bearish way, firm but yielding (if not you've picked too soon, friend). They are irregularly shaped orbs of promise.

Peaches are great as is but they are also fabulous tossed in with more savory ingredients (see this wonderful salad of mine: Tomato, Peach, Chevre, and Herb Salad with Apple Vinaigrette) and grilled, roasted, stewed, and baked into things like pies and muffins. Two of my favorite ways to enjoy them cooked are in this Arugula Salad with Roasted Peaches, Pistachios, and Mozzarella, and simply grilled and topped with my Mint-Pistachio Pesto. 

Tomato, Peach, Chevre, and Herb Salad with Apple Vinaigrette

Mint-Pistachio Pesto

Heck, now that I've gone down the wormhole, I'm remembering how much I love these Ginger Peach Muffins and also my Grilled Peach Crostini. 

Grilled Peach Crostini

And the jam possibilities are endless!

to-be Brandied Peaches

Clearly, I have a thing for peaches. And I am not ashamed.

Back to the pie. I have, over the years, worked on what is, in my opinion, the best representation of a number of pies: blackberry, apple, coconut, pecan. This summer, I set my sights on their peach cousin, and I think I'm nearly there.

It is, like my others, simple. It lets the primary fruit shine bright which is what the best pies do. I use peaches, sugar, lemon, and spices but have upped the ante slightly by including an apricot or two for a marvelous bit of tang and some muscovado sugar for depth (muscovado is a dark, unrefined brown sugar with a high level of molasses {in both content and flavor}. I use cinnamon and ground ginger and am considering using nutmeg, but we'll see. Peach Pie!

Paired with my crust, salty and flaky and perfect, the peaches shine. Which is just how it should be. 

40 in forty: find the pretty

I used to scoff when Tom said I didn't taking my plating seriously enough.

"Em, there's a reason plating earns you points on Top Chef. Presentation is important." 

He was right of course -is right- and while I've never used the tweezers I bought for strategically placing micro greens atop a just-seared filet (in fact, I used them to attempt to remove a tick from Nutmeg's neck and then rapidly disposed of them), I have started to pay more attention to how I arrange food on a plate.

sautéed mushrooms with parsley, garlic, cinnamon and thyme; part of tonight's dinner.

When I've spent a long time preparing a dish, it seems fitting to plate carefully. But I've also found that gussying up a sandwich makes it taste even better and that some foods are so drab that they need all the beautification you can offer.

There's a reason spectacularly designed and photographed food appeals to enthused Instagrammers.  There's a reason fancy restaurants don't send sloppy plates to diners' tables. There's a reason people sort through the apples on display, turning each over and around to check for bruises or blemishes, choosing those that shine and beckon with flirty eyelashes.

On a micro level, food has become about so much more than sustenance. From a macro perspective, beauty is always appealing. 

Beauty sometimes gets a bad rap, but I believe that derives from it being equated with or actively demonstrating vapid superficiality or false promises. 

Some beauty is utterly random: a double rainbow that seems to arc across the world; supermodels; children in unadulterated joy; the wild, vibrant hues of tropical fish and birds, colors humans can only try to replicate but never quite manage. Sunsets, the views from the Atchafalaya freeway, the way the light bounces off Roman exteriors, peonies.

Beauty often grows from passion or commitment too: to a canvas, a garden, the perfect stiletto, lacy underthings. A moment frozen in time by a patient photographer, the one cookie from a dozen that is perfectly round and whose chocolate chips are evenly distributed, the lily shoot I found today in my front yard, from a bulb I'd planted hopefully several weeks ago.

And a sense of what is beautiful often evolves with greater understanding of what any given thing can offer.

Take earthworms. I imagine I gave approximately zero craps about earthworms before I started gardening and composting. I sure as heck did not consider them pretty. But spend some time watching what they do, and how they make our earth and gardens infinitely healthier. Understanding that because of the worm's appreciation of decaying matter and the bacteria helping the rotting process along, we get aerated soil and an environmental means of disposing of our food waste. Those industrious annelids are, in fact, stunning.

a tulip in my yard

Beauty softens the heart, speaks to the soul, widens the eye, encourages imagination to soar. We are drawn to pretty things for a reason, and the more we pay attention and allow ourselves to be moved, the richer our lives become. 

An easy starting point is on your plate. Make it lovely, eat well, tend to yourself and your loved ones. Find the pretty.

grilled peaches with burrata and mint

Beachy life

I'm alone on a second story balcony, feet propped up on the railing. Though the sun has started to set, it is still vivid out; the blue sky is streaked with salmon, peach and yellowish white brushstrokes. Awnings and tree tops blow gently in the slight breeze. Birds are all around. Some gulls and their avian kin fly by, low across the horizon, while others sing in the background. A crow just glided to a soft stop atop a chimney.

I just cooked dinner for everyone -first for the kids and then the adults- and feel wholly sated now. It was a simple meal but a thoughtful one, prepared with in-season produce and a hot grill. 

tricolor quinoa with grilled veggies and peaches

These sorts of dishes make me feel so happy and good. They aren't fancy or frilly (though those can be fun to prepare and eat too), not difficult or overly time-consuming. They aren't even mine, really. I riffed on recipes I'd eaten before and remembered clearly, or read about and wanted to make. 

grilled peaches with mozzarella, toasted baguette, mint, olive oil and salt

They're healthy and beautiful and full of flavor, and I just can't imagine it gets much better.

The sun is sinking lower, ever so slowly which is delightful. You know those evenings where it drops like a guillotine? All fast and furious, and if you blink, you miss it. Not tonight, not here.

The crow has relocated to the other end of the roof. His tail is still moving up and down, up and down. Is it leverage? Is it a signal? He's not in a rush, and I like that about him.