PEACH PIE

I DID manage to get a pie in the oven yesterday afternoon---the peaches had had a little hermetic meditation under a big cakedome since Friday afternoon, and were at that perfect moment, when you take a chance on giving them the gentlest squeeze-with-all-five. I’m glad they were ready, for we all know that those fingerprints will injure and mar, and then they’ll show up beneath the skin after the peach DOES ripen.

The pictures are not the best---I’d scalded and peeled and got most of the way through getting the meat off the seed, when I remembered to go get the camera. And then, with such a sticky sweet mess to play in, there was a lot of hand-washing and drying and grabbing the camera and the light was not very good in the afternoon kitchen, and my photo skills are sketchy, at best.

So, between sticky and amateur, these are the dubious best of the bunch:

Cutting up the peaches:




Midway through, I realized I'd underestimated the amount of peaches---I made one of the small gratin dishes for Caro---her WW recipe with Splenda, and a little top crumble made of a bit of oatmeal, a bit of Splenda, one little crushed package of Lorna Doones, with a teaspoon of water to make it clump for scattering. Then I had to go get out a pie plate for the other one.

Rolling the crust with Mammaw’s old (new) rolling pin---she always called it the New One because it was a gift to her way late in life. It has a long metal shaft with the two handles loose enough for the roller to roll while you keep a good grip. She thought it the neatest invention, and talked about it to all her friends.

After all those years of use, it now has one unpredictable, sassy handle which hops right off the pin and leaves you going cattywonkus off onto the counter, when you meant to go straight ahead. It puts a little challenge into the rolling, for you have to keep in step. It’s kinda like all of us, I think---doing its best, but then there’s a sudden flat tire or a banana peel . . .

I’d said something yesterday about a rustic pie, and peaches certainly lend themselves to that kind of pastry---they just snuggle right in, pouring out those delicious juicy runnels into the plate and over the crust. Chris likes a lot of crust in his serving, and though it's the exact amount of crust for one pie, folding the excess over makes it just like he likes it. This one was brushed with a milk/egg white glaze, then scattered with a little Turbinado.

And the center, still bubbling from the oven---couldn’t you just DIVE right in?

We had not-quite-elegant cuts of the pie with scoops of Blue Bunny Vanilla after our burgers last night---as tasty as if it had been beautiful.