We forgot we had a peach tree until it decided to bear peaches this year. Last year, instead of peaches the tree produced these yellow, rotten globular leaves where fruit might have been. We figured the tree was diseased, and being renters, we didn't worry much about it beyond telling the landlady she might want to get that checked. But this year the boughs are heavy with these beautiful and soft, blushy-golden globes; they're communing with the rose bushes below and bonking the heads of passers-by on the sidewalk.
Our neighbor across the street let us know that historically, they are the worst peaches. She's picked a bundle over the years and warned Joel that they taste horrible and even went so far as to tell him it wasn't originally a peach tree. What?! Does this happen?
After tasting a few myself, I'm pretty sure she was just trying to keep us from picking them so she could tiptoe over in the night and abscond with all of them. They are darn good. Not the best, and they're cling-stone, but they're sweet and usable.
When they mentioned frost in the weather report, I picked a couple dozen to finish ripening indoors. And then one night a made a little peach tart.
I used Julia Child's recipe for sweet tart dough, and since my tart pan is so small, I have plenty dough left to make some cookies if I'm feeling ambitious. It's a partially-baked shell, which you then sprinkle sugar over before you lay the peach slices inside. Then dab with butter and sprinkle a little more sugar on top and bake some more until it's good and bubbly. It's simple and yummy fresh out of the oven with some lightly sweetened vanilla whipped cream.
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