I was hoping to post a picture of a cute swaddly little girl this week. She decided to keep cooking. So instead, you’ve got peach crisp. It’s not nearly as cute. I apologize. But it’s equally as good. It’s gestation period is only 30 minutes which beats the whole 9 month thing. Crisp, you win this week. Baby, I guess this means you win too. 

It’s peach picking season in the northeast. However, our local orchard didn’t have the best of seasons. I called their hotline nearly everyday for weeks waiting for peaches to be announced in the PYO (pick your own) line-up. Above all else, peaches are my favorite to pick. Maybe because they’re my favorite to eat.

I’m bullheaded, anal, and don’t give up very easily. Two Saturday’s ago, they slipped peaches into the line-up. I called again to make sure I wasn’t hallucinating. Kev didn’t quite understand my urgency to pick peaches so early on a Saturday morning. He humored me anyways, as he often does, and we sprinted to the orchard. Peaches haven’t been in the line-up since. Until today. And they say it’s the last of them. Tear. Maybe I’ll be that awkward 9 months pregnant lady, who can barely walk much less carry a heavy fruit basket, picking peaches alone. Or maybe I should just go to Target to pick up some last minute before-baby items. We’ll see.

Side note: There’s nothing better than rounding the corner in the kitchen where we store our produce and getting a big whiff of peaches. My mom always told me—peaches are ready when you can smell them. I never fall for the initial crop in the stores. They’re rock hard and without a scent. Although a couple days on the counter usually does them some good.

Before turning into children, we told ourselves to only pick what we could eat. We have a tendency to fill our basket to the brim. And I have a tendency to promise prepping and freezing fruit before it goes bad.

And we filled our basket nearly to the brim until remembering our initial pledge. But we did our part, and ate every last peach. We even baked with a couple although it pains me a little to apply heat to these delicacies. But for those extra juicy ones on the verge of going bad, this recipe is for you. It’s simple. Far from fancy. And it turns the natural juiciness of the peach into a sweet little compact treat, also known as a crisp. Of course, a little homemade vanilla ice cream on top doesn’t hurt.

Maybe, just maybe, I’ll be back with sweeter news this time next week. Fingers crossed!

Recipe Card powered by