Good morning. There’s a road near where I stay that’s lined with orchards, and when the peaches get ripe there I like to drive it with the windows open. The smell of the fruit softens my mood. It’s the scent of sunshine.
That won’t be for weeks yet, though, maybe a month. In the meantime, I’ll be looking to Georgia, where the crop’s bouncing back from a disastrous, frost-ruined 2023 season. A dozen ripe Georgia peaches in a paper sack? I can put my head in there and have almost the same reaction that I get in the car with the local fruit: a kind of stunned happiness.
There’s so much to do with them. Put one in the sun for an hour then eat it out of your hand, the warm juices running down your chin. Slice another into a bowl to eat with cold yogurt. Cut one more for lunch: a tomato and peach salad with whipped goat cheese.
And then, of course, you should make a perfect peach pie (above). It’s just the thing to fill a Sunday afternoon with joy, and you can let it rest on the counter while you make a simple dinner to serve ahead of it. I’m thinking of crispy chicken thighs and a sweet-corn salad, but it doesn’t matter. Today, the pie’s the thing.
