Eat a Peach

“Fresh peach pie can lift a bullying reprobate into apologetic courtesy; I’ve watched it happen. — Leif Enger

“You can’t buy happiness, but you can buy peaches and that’s kind of the same thing.” — Unknown

“Life is full of peaches — enjoy them while they last.” — Unknown

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Peaches at Butternut Farm in Farmington, New Hampshire

I am here to report that, contrary to one of the statements above, life is NOT full of peaches. Not here in Maine, at least.

We gained so much when we moved to Maine in 2007. I loved my calling to the church I served here until I retired. Plus, we landed in a wonderful neighborhood and developed close friendships. Our town, although rather small, has much to offer because of the college nestled in the heart of it. And, then there was the fact that we were living in Maine. For my husband, it meant a homecoming, for he was born and spent his early childhood here. For me, it meant actually living in the state I had always associated with magical vacations. In fact, even now, I equate the phrase “going to Maine” with going on vacation.

But moving here brought losses, too. Most of them involved people — dear friends and family who would be farther away and harder to see. We loved our old house, too, and were sad to leave it.

And then there were peaches. It never occurred to me that good peaches would be so hard to come by in Maine. But Maine is too far north and the weather too cold for most cultivars of peach trees. Even the ones that can survive here are an iffy proposition from year to year, and the peaches they produce are tiny. I don’t imagine any Maine farmers in their right minds would consider peach trees a sound economic investment.

In our old place in Massachusetts, we lived in orchard country. Late summer meant going peach picking. Fall meant apple picking and sometimes late-season raspberry picking. I took part in as many pick-your-own fruit opportunities as I could.

Back then, we lived in an old farmhouse that had several ancient apple trees in the yard. The orchards on our little country road must have been extensive at one time, because our yard wasn’t the only one that had a grove of old apple trees in it. Once, years ago, I took care of the neighbors’ cat while they were away on vacation. When they returned, they brought me a big basket full of apples they had gathered from their old trees, all of them cultivars that are no longer readily available. I made an apple crisp out of those apples. It was probably the best apple crisp I have ever tasted, and it would be impossible to duplicate.

For peaches, we had to drive maybe 5 or 6 miles to the orchards in the next town. And, oh my. Have you ever picked peaches straight from the tree? Have you ever eaten a peach that is still warm from the sun? Have you ever stood in a stand of trees breathing air redolent of peach juice? Those were rites of late summer back where I came from.

Maine has apples aplenty, and I still pick them in the fall. But peaches? That’s an altogether different story. Peaches show up in the grocery stores here, first from Georgia. Then from New Jersey. Then, if we’re lucky, from somewhere in southern New England. They are never ripe when you buy them. Because I love peaches so much, I usually relent and buy a few at the store and try to ripen them on my kitchen counter. That is nearly always a disaster. The peaches are usually mealy and awful. I guess the fact that I get lulled into trying to ripen peaches from away every year is a measure of how much I miss what was once readily available to me.

So, last week, when a friend suggested we go peach picking in New Hampshire, of course I said yes. We drove at least an hour and a half, maybe longer, just to get to the orchard. If you have ever picked peaches, you may think that sounds ridiculous, because it takes virtually no time to pick the actual peaches. You fill up your box quickly, and then it’s time to drive all that long way home again. But here’s the thing: I got to breathe that exotic perfumed air once more. I got to see the beautiful ripe fruits nestled against their branches. I got to hold those fuzzy-skinned jewels in my hand.

At one point, as I stood among the rows of trees, a peach fell from a branch all by itself. “That peach is perfectly ripe,” I said to my friend. “And they’ll never be able to sell that one now,” I remarked as I reached under the tree, picked up the now slightly bruised peach, and bit into it. There I was, peach juice running down my chin and streaming across my fingers. I hadn’t experienced anything remotely like that for roughly 20 years.

It was the best peach ever and well worth the long journey to eat it.

On the way home, my friend and I hatched a plan for the following evening. We would share a light supper of soup and salad, and then we would sample two peach pies — one from her recipe collection and one from mine. I wish I could somehow offer you a piece of each pie. The best I can do is show you a photo. (And paste the recipes in below!)

Grandma Clement’s Peach Pie on the left. Fresh Peach Pie from Marianne Woods on the right.

Having the chance to walk through a grove of peaches, taste the fruit I have been missing for years, and share a simple meal followed by peach pie was emblematic of the simple things that bring me joy. Peaches may not be your thing. But my wish for you is that you find your own moments of joy and pleasure. The world is hard enough most days. It’s important that we find ways to refresh and nurture ourselves, body and spirit.

Love,

Sylvia

Grandma Clement’s Plum or Peach Pie

1 pie shell, partially baked and cooled

Fruit:

4-5 ripe peaches OR

5-6 plums + 2 TBS. sweet butter

Custard:

1 egg

1/3 c. sugar

1/4 c. flour

3/4 c. heavy cream

4 TBS. cognac

Turbinado or raw sugar to taste. You can use regular if you don’t have raw. (2-4 TBS)

If using plums rub the plums with softened butter and cut into eighths. If using peaches omit butter and cut into eighths. Arrange in concentric circles with points facing upward in partially baked pie shell. Bake 15 minutes at 375 degrees.

While fruit/shell is cooking make the custard. Beat egg and sugar until thick. Mix in flour until smooth. Add cream and cognac. Remove pie shell and fruit from oven and pour custard around fruit. Sprinkle with sugar.

Bake an additional 20-30 minutes at 375 degrees until custard is set.

Fresh Peach Pie from Marianne Woods

One baked and cooled single pie crust

4 - 5 cups of peeled and sliced fresh peaches

3 Tbsp. lemon juice

¾ cup sugar

Mix and let stand at room temperature 1 ½ hours or more. Drain well, saving the juice. There should be at least 1 cup. Put 3 Tbsp. cornstarch in a small sauce pan. Add the juice gradually to keep the cornstarch from clumping up. Add a dash of salt.

Cook over medium heat, stirring constantly. It will get very thick but keep stirring until it is clear and smooth.

Remove from the heat and add ½ tsp. Almond extract and 2 Tbsp. butter. Stir well. Pour over the fresh peaches and fold so that the glaze covers all the peaches. Pour into the baked shell.

Chill. Serve with whipped cream.