Mad for Peaches

Millions of peaches, peaches for me...

With July now ripe and full, I believe the whole world's tipping at the brink of peach madness.

Over at the White On Rice Couple blog, one finds adorable dogs licking peaches.

I myself just received 15 juicy little darlings in last night's CSA box. They're about to become peach compote or peach pie or maybe just peaches with yogurt if only I can keep myself from devouring them all in a dripping, fleshy mess over the sink.



Then, of course, I stumbled over this entertaining peach reverie (from The Chronicles of Clovis by Saki [H. H. Munro]) at Project Gutenberg while eating a particularly fine specimen myself:

"How nice of you to remember my aunt when you can no longer recall the names of the things you ate.

Now my memory works quite differently. I can remember a menu long after I've forgotten the hostess that accompanied it. When I was seven years old I recollect being given a peach at a garden-party by some Duchess or other; I can't remember a thing about her, except that I imagine our acquaintance must have been of the slightest, as she called me a 'nice little boy,' but I have unfading memories of that peach.

It was one of those exuberant peaches that meet you halfway, so to speak, and are all over you in a moment. It was a beautiful unspoiled product of a hothouse, and yet it managed quite successfully to give itself the airs of a compote. You had to bite it and imbibe it at the same time.

To me there has always been something charming and mystic in the thought of that delicate velvet globe of fruit, slowly ripening and warming to perfection through the long summer days and perfumed nights, and then coming suddenly athwart my life in the supreme moment of its existence. I can never forget it, even if I wished to.

And when I had devoured all that was edible of it, there still remained the stone, which a heedless, thoughtless child would doubtless have thrown away; I put it down the neck of a young friend who was wearing a very décolleté sailor suit.

I told him it was a scorpion, and from the way he wriggled and screamed he evidently believed it, though where the silly kid imagined I could procure a live scorpion at a garden-party I don't know. Altogether, that peach is for me an unfading and happy memory--"

Now, I wasn't going to offer up a recipe at all, because, after all, a summer peach is a glorious thing. Why mess with success, right?

But then I realized that I've been needlessly cruel. In checking through my online recipe file, it's clear that I've never posted my glorious Gingered Peach Pie. For shame! It's a delight that never fails to please a crowd.

And, after all, one who is blessed with peaches should at least consider sharing them. Especially with ice cream. Or crème fraîche.

Gingered Peach Pie (with or without crumble topping, below)

3 Tbsp dry tapioca pearls
6 cups (2.5 lb) sliced peaches
1 Tbsp minced ginger
1/2 cup brown sugar
2 tsp fresh lime juice
1 tsp lime zest
1/2-3/4 tsp garam masala blend (or substitute 1/4 tsp ground allspice and 1/4 tsp ground nutmeg and 1/4 tsp ground ginger)
1/4 tsp salt
1 pie crust
Crumble topping (use a double crust if you're not doing the crumble topping)

1. Heat oven to 375°F and blind bake* the pie shell for 20 minutes.
2. Pulverize dry tapioca pearls with a coffee grinder, mortar/pestle or food processor.
3. In a mixing bowl, gently combine peaches, ginger, brown sugar, lime juice, zest, spice blend and salt. Mix in the tapioca powder.
4. Pour the peach mixture into the baked pie shell, top with crumble topping (if using) or second pie crust. If using a pie crust top, be sure to open up several holes to allow steam to escape.
5. Bake pie on a cookie sheet for 1 hour, checking after 30 minutes to make sure the edges aren't overbrowning. (If the edges do start looking too brown, cover them with strips of aluminum foil.)
6. Cool the pie on a rack for approximately 1 hour before serving.

*Blind baking is a process that involves pre-cooking the pie shell (usually with pie weights or dry beans in the shell to keep it from bubbling and rising). This keeps the crust more crisp.

Crumble Topping
3 Tbsp flour
2 Tbsp brown sugar
2 Tbsp white sugar
1/4 tsp ground cinnamon
1 dash salt
1/4 cup rolled oats
1/4 cup pecans or walnuts, coarsely chopped
3 Tbsp chilled butter, cut in 1/2" pieces

1. In a mixing bowl, blend together flour, sugars, cinnamon, salt, oats and nuts.
2. Cut in the butter with a fork until the mixture resembles a uniform gravel. Sprinkle atop the pie filling and bake as directed.

Cheers!