Alberta peaches. That's what the farmer guy said these are. I wouldn't know an Alberta peach from an O'Henry. But I know now that our farmer (I like calling him our farmer) told us today that he has a different variety of peaches "coming on" about every two weeks. Coming on, in farmer speak, means the fruit is ready to pick.
We drove out in the country about 20 miles from home to buy two boxes of peaches at a surprisingly low price of $16 a box. It felt like stealing. A co-worker told me where to find our farmer and I reveled in driving out not only to get the peaches but to shoot the breeze with him for a short time. He wore a baseball cap and spit chew on the ground every once in awhile as he told us a bit about his business and the fishing trip he took to the coast last weekend.
I love country folks. They keep it real. When I asked him if he had a webpage, he was kind enough to not laugh at me. Silly me. What farmer needs a webpage when they have the same customers coming back to buy their fruit for years and years. As we were leaving, he said, "be sure to keep my number". I said, "you're going into my 'contacts'", but I'm not sure he knew what I meant. I thought about telling him that he'd be on my blog page tonight but decided I just needed to keep our relationship simple. He grows the fruit, I drive out to buy it. Love that.
Not all the peaches are ripe enough to use yet so I picked out the ready ones and they are now freezer jam. Earlier today, I threw together a peach crisp for Gene. He has lost so much weight since I've been watching my diet that it's scaring me.
I think tomorrow I will make a peach pie and then decide what to do with the rest of them. We'll be having some peach smoothies and maybe a fruit pizza before the week is over.
Everything's just peachy! love, susan