Summer Fruit: A Tribute to Peaches, and Summer, and Memory

It's finally quiet here tonight, both inside my head and outside it. After a long day of single-parenting wrangling and paid work and then more single-parenting wrangling, both kids are asleep in bed, and I'm left here on the couch with a whole hour (!) to spare before I once again quixotically attempt to goddamn go to bed on time for once. It's juuuuust finally getting dark now at a few minutes past 9pm, and the temperature is still somewhere in the 70's, I'd bet (it was a roasting day today--after weeks of anemic summer weather, all of a sudden we're back in the fry-an-egg-on-the-sidewalk game). All the screen doors and windows are open, and I can hear the sound of people playing around at some healthy outdoorsy sportsy thing in the field just in back of our house, as well as the occasional airplane buzzing overhead. But the rest is blessedly quiet and still, the earth exhaling the last of its heat before things settle down for the switch to night time.

So today seems like an appropriate day to talk about summer fruit, a topic I've been rolling around in the back of my brain for the last few months. Now first off, let me say that summer fruit is one of the main reasons why I like this season (another major one being that even after years of being out of school, I still feel like the summer is when I get more time to play, even though sadly that's not really true anymore). Yeah, the weather is nice (I do prefer the sunshine to the rain, generally) and having extra hours of daylight is good too, but really, its alllllll about the summer fruit for me. Peaches. Strawberries. Cherries. Nectarines. Blueberries. (Even heirloom tomatoes, which technically do count as fruit, not vegetables, thankyouverymuch.) Oh sweet heavens, I love them. Especially the peaches. Peaches are special to my heart (and, of course, my mouth).

For me, a truly great peach is right up there near the lead on my list of top favorite foods/foodie experiences ever. (I think I've mentioned some of my other food indulgences before...but this is a different, and healthier one.) I can eat at least 3 or 4 a day, if they're good. The best ones are intensely peachy smelling, and not too fuzzy on the outside (even before washing), with a soft, not crispy orange and yellow skin, and dense, juicy flesh underneath. (Isaac the humongonaut plumpy baby is a lot like a good peach, come to think of it...) I prefer yellow peaches to white ones (I like that extra tartness), and freestone ones to cling. Huge is good too, maybe even the size of two fists together. (Although believe me, if I could get a good one in a James-and-the-Giant-Peach size, I'd eat myself sick.) Bonus points if I can get one that fits all these criteria AND is organic, although that seems harder to do. Oh man. I want one now. Be right back.

Ok (she says, wiping her sticky fingers off before resuming typing again), that one was decent but not great. As the season gets into full swing, I become pickier--what would have delighted me and practically brought tears of joy to my eyes in the middle of January becomes merely humdrum tastiness in mid-July, the fruity equivalent of, say, a decently cooked hamburger (or turkey burger in my case). I have GOT to get off my overwhelmed ass and get to the farmer's market this weekend--I am going to be pissed if this summer fruit season slips by without me truly experiencing peachy nirvana at least once. At least once, I want to gorge myself on as many perfectly delicious peaches as I want.

Summer fruit, and especially peaches, is one of those few remaining things that is still truly seasonal, in this day and age of everything-available-all-the-time-to-the-spoiled-American-consumer. (I'm sorry, but those Chilean peaches they sell in the winter here? Not. Even. Worthy. I mean really. Feh. And winter strawberries or tomatoes? Nice on the outside, worthless on the inside.) As such, every time I eat a peach (or other summer fruity goodness), I not only get a happy mouth, I also get one of those nostalgic pleasure hits brought on by another successful enactment of repetitive ritual that I'm so fond of in all aspects of my life. This peach now reminds me of last year's peaches, and of the peaches of my childhood, and of the peaches I had (or didn't have) in every place I ever lived. It makes me fondly anticipate next year's peaches, as well as reminding me of all the other fun things (yes, in addition to eating) that did/will take place during the summers I've already seen or have yet to see. So a peach is a trigger for me--summer in a round, faintly fuzzy package.

Given the above, I want to end with a quick reminiscence that took place a few months ago, in May, to be exact. On a Tuesday, my Mom's traditional day to come watch the kid(s). I was still on maternity leave so I was home too. We decided to go for a drive somewhere so that both kids might get a nap in, so for no particular reason we decided to drive up to Sebastopol and get some homemade ice cream at Screamin' Mimi's. Well, while we were there Eli had to go potty, so we zipped over to Whole Foods, which was located conveniently nearby. On the way in to the store, I noticed that they had put out a display of peaches (and other summer fruit like plums and nectarines...but really it was all about the peaches). They were the first ones I'd really seen this year, and they smelled pretty good. I was excited and pointed them out to Eli, and he got excited because I was excited, and to make a relatively long and rambly reminiscence shorter, we bought a couple and tried them. They were pretty decent, for May peaches, as I recall. But the fond memory part for me was sitting on a bench with my kid, both of us with a peach in hand, and toasting each other and the "first peach of the season!" by gently bonking our peaches together before eating them, dare I say, almost reverently. And of course, being the nostalgia/memory junkie I've become lately, I took a picture:

Happy summer, everyone!