Last Thursday night we had dinner with Brandon's new partner and his family at their home. (Part of the reason they invited us over when they did is because their oldest son is leaving on a mission for Japan this Wednesday, and they wanted Brandon and I to prep him a little. I can't believe I almost forgot to warn him that Japan does NOT celebrate Christmas. I told him just as we were going out the door, and encouraged his mom to send a really nice Christmas package of some sort. The only thing that saved my one Christmas over there were the candy canes, mini tree, and Christmas tapes my sweet mom sent over. Even the Christians there don't do much. Except eat "Christmas Cake", which I'm pretty sure they think is an American tradition. White, fluffy cake with whipped cream and fresh strawberries on top. Go figure. My Japanese Christmas was spent eating bad ramen in a tacky mall listening to bad Japanese Top 40 music over the intercom. No decorations, no lights, no music, definitely no nativities - nada, nunca, nanimonai.) Totally and completely off topic.
They asked us to bring a dessert, and I came with a very lame assortment of store bought cookies and frozen drumsticks. (I was mostly thinking of the kids.) Well, I have no idea why in the world they even asked me to bring dessert, because in addition to my pitiful offering, the woman of the house brought out her own home canned Utah peaches - chilled - and then proceeded to pour french vanilla creamer over the top.
Holy. Cow.
The next day I found myself at the roadside stand she told me about, purchasing a massive box of Utah peaches. Apparently, there are over 300 varieties grown in North America alone, and I have no idea the differences between them or what I even bought, but something I have learned about Utah is that they are serious about their peaches, and the peaches I bought are yummy.
Then I went to the other roadside stand she told me about and got even more peaches. (I thought we should taste test.) And sweet corn, and raspberries, and tomatoes - I like to eat garden fresh tomatoes like apples, lightly salting every bite. Yum!
That same day we got invited to swim after school at a neighbor's house. It was in the 90's all last week, and we hadn't been swimming since school started. It felt good. The last swim of the summer I'm sure. The last peaches, the last sweet corn . . . we even heard the ice cream truck as we were biking home. I told the kids if it came by I'd let them get ice cream because it would probably be . . . the last time this summer.
It seems funny that I never made it to one of those road side stands all of August and most of September, but better late than never, right?
So with a houseful of peaches, what was a girl to do on a Sunday afternoon except make peach cobbler?
Enjoy the last day of summer - fall officially begins this Wednesday!
Oh! The Peaches! The Glorious Peaches! I think I ate a whole crate of them the summer before we moved to Iowa - just after I found out I was pregnant.
ReplyDeleteFond, fond memories of eating all those peaches.
Thanks for making me salivate.