Peaches, which originated in China several thousand years ago, have spread westward as far as California, where most of the American crop is grown. Georgia used to reign supreme as the Peach State, the local beauty queens crowned “Miss Georgia Peach,” but I guess California has overtaken it, production-wise anyway. But perhaps not in quality and flavor.
There have always been claims and counterclaims about where the best peaches grow, but, as only tree-ripened peaches can develop the intensity of flavor we all hope for, it would have to follow that the best peaches are the ones on the trees nearest you. These won’t always be the largest or most photogenic, but there were small orchards — some of them pick-your-owns — here on the South Fork that had fruit of unrivaled flavor. Unfortunately, the little farmstand on Mitchell Lane in Bridgehampton seems to have packed it in and is selling off its trees. Maybe this is the time to grow your own as well as pick ’em.
The East End, because of its position in the Gulf Stream for one thing, permits the most amazing number of plants and trees that you can hardly imagine would grow this far north. I planted a papaw tree, just as a nostalgia trip to my native South Carolina, and it held up valiantly even through last winter’s hellish cold. Maybe I’ll take a flier on growing a peach tree to realize the ineffable pleasure of a truly tree-ripened peach.
Peaches are so delicate and easily bruised, it’s obvious that the beauties from California cannot possibly be tree-ripened. But they are fine for making jams, conserves, and chutneys — anything cooked.
Alan Davidson, who generally writes about seafood, states in his gorgeously illustrated book “Fruit” that peach melba is the most famous peach dessert in the world. Don’t say that to any Southerner who is raised believing that peach cobbler holds that title, and that peach ice cream is the most glorious frozen dessert ever invented. And peach upside-down cake wins hands down over the timeless favorite of bygone days, pineapple upside-down cake.
Luscious Peach Shortcake
Ripe peaches, real whipped cream, and a rich biscuit underpinning are the requisites for this oldtime favorite. Even if you don’t have a “hand” for making your grandmother’s superb flaky biscuits, this dessert is possible, delicious really, using the large, flaky-style, canned biscuits that you can find in the refrigerated case of any supermarket. Nothing could be simpler.
Serves six.
6 large ripe peaches (or 8 smaller ones)
Juice of one lemon
2 Tbsp. sugar
2 Tbsp. bourbon whiskey
1/2 pint heavy cream
1 tsp. sugar
6 large (about 3-inch diameter) flaky biscuits, warm
6 small sprigs mint (optional)
Unless you grow your own, it’s wise to buy the peaches a couple of days ahead of time and let them ripen on a cool, dark, airy shelf. Bring a pot of water to the boil, add the peaches one by one very gently, and blanch them for about one minute. Remove to a cool water bath. Strip off the skins as fast as you can and put them in a bowl. Sprinkle with lemon juice. Cut the peaches along their natural seam and slice them in fairly thick slices. Sprinkle with sugar and whiskey, cover with plastic wrap.
Bake the biscuits according to your recipe, or the wrapper directions on store-bought ones. Meanwhile, whip the cream, adding the bit of sugar, and refrigerate.
Do not overbrown the biscuits — they should be light gold. Immediately split them and divide the bottoms on six plates. Spoon on some peaches and cap with the biscuit tops. Finally, ladle on a generous quantity of whipped cream and top with a sprig of mint.
Peach Chutney
This is a terrific chutney, closely resembling Major Grey’s spicy mango. Make it in August or early September when peaches are at their peak and least expensive. Local fruit is tastiest. Indian recipes use mangoes because that’s what they have most plentifully; we have peaches and they make just as fine a chutney. (Later in the year, I make one with green tomatoes and pears.)
You can, of course, put up this spicy condiment in half-pint jars if your family and guests are more restrained than mine about eating chutney.
Makes about six pints.
5 lbs. firm ripe peaches
1 tsp. kosher or pickling salt
2 cups sultanas (seedless yellow raisins)
1 green apple or 2 firm-ripe pears (green Bartletts)
1 pint brown cider vinegar
4 cloves garlic, minced
1 lb. yellow onions, chopped
4 oz. green gingerroot, some sliced, some minced
5 small red chilies (dried)
1 lemon (flesh, juice, and rind)
1 1/2 oranges (flesh, juice, and rind)
1 1/2 lbs. white sugar
1/2 bottle Grandma’s Molasses (unsulphured)
1 tsp. cayenne (or to taste)
1 tsp. ground cloves
1 to 2 sticks broken cinnamon
2 Tbsp. mustard seed
Arrowroot and water paste to thicken
Put clean jars into a pot of hot water and bring to a boil, then turn off about 10 minutes before you wish to fill them. They should be hot. You can also run them through the dishwasher if that is more convenient. The dome lids should also be hot and clean when placed on the finished product.
Skin and hand-chop peaches in chunks and drop into the vinegar as each is skinned. Peel, core, and chop the pears or apples and add to peaches after they are chopped. Add all remaining ingredients except sugar if you wish to break the canning process into two days. Otherwise just proceed with recipe.
In preparing citrus, remove rind, taking none of the white pith, which should be pared off and all seeds re- moved before chopping the flesh. Combine them in a wide, heavy-bottomed pot and cook over medium flame, stirring almost constantly, about 20 minutes. Reduce flame to low, but have enough flame to ensure continuous bubbling about 20 minutes longer, and stir often to prevent sticking and scorching. A fairly wide, straight-edged spatula does the best job of this.
Arrowroot thickening doesn’t discolor the fruits but remains very clear, and its use makes possible a short-cooked, fresher tasting peach chutney. After stirring in the paste, cook the chutney just until thickened, a couple of minutes, then ladle into clean hot jars using a wide-mouth funnel. I use wide-mouth pint jars sometimes, or faceted 12-ounce jars — these are the most practical size for chutney, but aren’t so easy to find.
Place the jars, one by one just before filling, on a tray lined with a kitchen towel so that you’ll have a steady base. You can use the same tray when you re- move the jars after they’ve had a 10-minute hot water bath to seal the jars and prevent any bacteria from entering your chutney. It keeps well for a couple of years on a cool dark shelf and needs no refrigeration until after it’s opened.
