Peaches in pie

Georgia Peach Pie

from Cheryl Day and Griffith Day's "Back in the Day Bakery Made with Love"

1 extra-flaky pie crust

2 1/2 pounds peaches, peeled, pitted and cut into 1/4-inch slices

2 tsp. grated lemon zest

2 Tbsp. fresh lemon juice

1/4 cup packed light brown sugar

3 Tbsp. cornstarch

1/2 tsp. fine sea salt

1/4 tsp. ground cinnamon

1/4 tsp. ground allspice

1/4 tsp. ground ginger

1 large egg, lightly beaten with a pinch of fine sea salt for egg wash

coarse sugar or raw sugar for sprinkling

Roll out one disk of dough, fit it into a 9-inch pie pan, and refrigerate for 30 minutes, then "dock" the bottom of the crust and return it to the refrigerator. 

Roll out the second disk, cut into lattice strips, place on a baking sheet and refrigerate.

Put the peaches in a large bowl, add the lemon zest and lemon juice, and toss gently.

In a small bowl, mix together the brown sugar, cornstarch, salt, cinnamon, allspice and ginger. Gently toss the peaches with this mixture.

Pour the filling into the prepared pie crust. Use the chilled dough strips to form a lattice over the filling crust. Put the pie on a rimmed baking sheet and put in the refrigerator for 15 minutes to set the crust.

Meanwhile, position a rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat the oven to 400 degrees F.

Remove the pie from the refrigerator and brush the pie crust with the egg wash. Sprinkle with coarse sugar. 

Bake for 15 minutes, then reduce the oven temperature to 350 degrees F and bake for 45 to 50 minutes, until the crust is golden brown and the fruit is bubbling. 

Remove the pie from the oven and cool on a wire rack for 2 to 3 hours.

The pie can be stored at room temperature for up to 1 day or refrigerated for up to 2 days. Makes 8 servings.

for the extra-flaky pie crust:

2 1/2 cups unbleached all-purpose flour

1 Tbsp. granulated sugar

1 tsp. baking powder

1 tsp. fine sea salt

1/2 cup ice water

1 Tbsp. cider vinegar

1/2 pound (2 sticks) cold unsalted butter cut into 1-inch cubes

In a medium bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking powder and salt. Set aside.

In a measuring cup or a small bowl, combine the water and cider vinegar. Set aside.

Toss the butter in the flour mixture to gently coat it. Then use a pastry blender to cut the butter into the flour. You should have various-sized pieces of butter, ranging from sandy patches to pea-sized chunks, with some larger bits as well. 

Drizzle in about half of the ice water mixture and stir lightly with a fork until the flour is evenly moistened and the dough starts to come together. 

If the dough seems dry, add a little more ice water 1 to 2 tablespoons at a time. The dough will still look a bit shaggy at this point. If you grab a small piece of dough and press it slightly with your hand, it should mostly hold together.

Dump the dough out onto an un-floured work surface and gather it together into a tight mound. 

Using the heel of your hand, smear the dough a little at a time, pushing it away from you and working your way down the mass of dough to create flat layers of flour and butter. 

Then gather the dough back together with a bench scraper, layering the clumps of dough on top of one another. 

Repeat the process once or twice more; the dough should still have some big pieces of butter visible.

Cut the dough in half. Shape each piece into a disk and flatten it. Wrap the disks in plastic and put in the refrigerator for at least 1 hour, or overnight, to rest.

The dough can be stored for 3 days in the refrigerator or up to 1 month in the freezer. If frozen, defrost in the refrigerator overnight. Makes 2 9-inch pie crusts.

Having the peach

"Avoir la peche

"Having the peach

"Having the peach means being in top form, in high spirits, with a lot of energy. It is an informal expression that is used in casual conversation only.

"This expression appeared in the 1960s, and may have evolved from the word peche as slang for the face or head.

"You may also encounter these related, but somewhat less refined, variations: avoir la patate (having the potato), avoir la frite (having the French fry), and avoir la banane (having the banana)."

Clotilde Dusoulier in "Edible French: Tasty Expressions and Cultural Bites"

"Huckleberry" hound

"I love the process of baking, of working with just a handful of ingredients, and losing myself in my hands while working to transform these ingredients into something beautiful and delicious.

"I love taking a box of perfect peaches back to the restaurant from the farmers' market and turning them into sheet pans of whole-wheat peach squares, or peach crumble, or fresh peach preserves. 

"When I'm baking, the finished product almost doesn't matter; once I get into the simple peaceful acts of scaling, mixing and scooping, I'm satisfied."

Zoe Nathan in "Huckleberry: Stories, Secrets and Recipes from Our Kitchen"

Georgia peaches

"Peach pie was one of the reasons I was so excited to have a stop in Georgia on the Tour of Pie, and the peaches did not disappoint.

"I was in town for the month of July and the sweet, juicy peaches were at the height of the season. I was staying with Kay and Patrick, the generous parents of my old college friend and Atlanta native Sean, who had volunteered his parents' guest room after hearing about my travels. 

"In late July, Kay invited a few of her friends over for a pie party. Each of the ladies brought their own peaches. I provided the crust ingredients, and they all learned how to make peach pie. Sipping on iced tea and eating a warm slice of Georgia peach pie was the perfect way to end my visit."

Teeny Lamothe in "Teeny's Tour of Pie: A Cookbook"

Peachy keen

Usually a ripe peach in and of itself is perfect enough. Sometimes, though, a little dressing-up is equally fine.

One-Peach Crisp with Cardamom and Honey

from Joe Yonan's "Eat Your Vegetables: Bold Recipes for the Single Cook"

1 large ripe peach, halved and pitted
1 to 2 tsp. honey
1/8 tsp. ground cardamom
1/3 cup granola, preferably one with nuts and dried fruit
ice cream

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F.

Put the peach halves, cut sides up, in a small baking dish. Drizzle with 1 teaspoon of the honey and sprinkle with the cardamom.

If the granola includes dried fruit, pick out the fruit pieces and reserve them. Pack the granola onto the peach halves. If your granola isn't on the sweet side, feel free to drizzle on the remaining 1 teaspoon of honey.

Bake the peach until it is soft when you pierce it with a fork, about 20 to 25 minutes. Remove from the oven, let cool for a few minutes, then sprinkle with the dried fruit reserved from the granola. Add the scoop of ice cream and eat it while it's warm. Makes 1 serving. 

Peach fever

"We catch it. It invades our logic, overriding rational thought, disrupting our best-laid plans. It spreads and settles in our psyche, our emotions swell, the heart races. We call it peach fever, a love of our work and the land that burdens us with a sense of responsibility and caring. Peach fever curses us, especially when weather disasters challenge our spirit and bad prices inject a cold reality into our love affair. Peach fever can destroy and transform and lives on our farm throughout the year."

David Mas Masumoto in "The Perfect Peach: Recipes and Stories from the Masumoto Family Farm"

Blue on blue

It is blueberry and peach sour cream cobbler, courtesy of Nigel Slater and "The Kitchen Diaries." It is the epitome of summer.

Passion for pie

"On Thanksgiving, I discovered pie. Until then, I had only known apple pie, but Neda's grandmother baked rhubarb, sour cherry, pumpkin, and peach, taking each out of the oven just when the fruit was bubbling around the edges. Not surprisingly, it became my favorite holiday and the beginning of a lifelong passion for pie."

Donia Bijan, in "Maman's Homesick Pie: A Persian Heart in an American Kitchen"

Why ask why?

Peach pie.

The cool down

I see directions for a vegetable paella in a cookbook, and think to tackle the dish myself. I saute onions and bell peppers, but mess up on the spices. The heat is just a tad too intense. Not to worry. There is peach ice cream to finish.

Picking a peach

"Consider where the fruit came from. If it came from 3,000 miles away, then bear in mind that it was probably picked at a much more immature stage, and it's not going to be as ripe and delicious. If it came from a neighboring state, it's probably a whole lot riper."

Desmond Layne, Clemson University peach specialist, on NPR's "All Things Considered"

"The Giant Peach"

"It was quite a large hole, the sort of thing an animal about the size of a fox might have made.

"James knelt down in front of it and poked his head and shoulders inside.

"He crawled in.

"He kept on crawling.

"This isn't just a hole, he thought excitedly. It's a tunnel!

"The tunnel was damp and murky, and all around him there was the curious bittersweet smell of fresh peach. The floor was soggy under his knees, the walls were wet and sticky, and peach juice was dripping from the ceiling. James opened his mouth and caught some of it on his tongue. It tasted delicious.

"He was crawling uphill now, as though the tunnel were leading straight toward the very center of the gigantic fruit. Every few seconds he paused and took a bite out of the wall. The peach flesh was sweet and juicy, and marvelously refreshing.

"He crawled on for several more yards, and then suddenly - bang - the top of his head bumped into something extremely hard blocking his way. He glanced up. In front of him there was a solid wall that seemed at first as though it were made of wood. He touched it with his fingers. It certainly felt like wood, except that it was very jagged and full of deep grooves.

"'Good heavens!' he said. 'I know what this is! I've come to the stone in the middle of the peach!'"

Roald Dahl, in "James and the Giant Peach"

A human noodle vacuum

"You're gonna slurp those noodles. You're not chewing them. You're not cutting them up. You're trying to inhale them like a human noodle vacuum. And they should slurp in a pleasing way...

"And then that broth that they're served in, it should dress the noodles. It should coat the noodles. It should flavor the noodles. It seems like the simplest thing for a bowl of noodle soup to do. But when you're in front of a bowl and that's happening... you're most of the way there..."

Peter Meehan, co-editor of Lucky Peach, on a proper bowl of ramen on NPR's "All Things Considered"

Peach fuzz

"In trying to save my Sun Crest peaches, I discover that they are more than just food, they are part of a permanence, a continuity with the past. People who enjoy my peaches understand what juicy, sweet ones taste like. Biting into one may send them back to the orchards of their childhoods and that warm sense of constancy of family found in their memories. Individuals leave for the city, but the memories of farms stay behind to anchor personal family histories. My peaches find a home with these folks, a touchstone to their past."

David Mas Masumoto, in "Epitaph for a Peach: Four Seasons on My Family Farm."

Chinatown cakes

On one hand, the LA Times piece on Phoenix Bakery makes me want to say "uh-duh." Who doesn't know about Chinatown cakes, lighter in texture and less sweet than desserts from many other bakeries?

And who doesn't know "you can special order (them) with peaches. Bananas are good, too."

(Photo credit goes to Mark Boster of the Los Angeles Times.)

On the other hand, the food story does manage to pique my curiosity. And so it goes. The next time I find myself in Los Angeles, I just might have to drop by Chinatown for a decent taste.

Peach lit

"When I first started, I realized I would never make a fortune in farming, but I hoped I could be rich in other ways - and maybe, just maybe, my work would create some other kind of wealth in the process."

David Mas Masumoto, in "Epitaph For a Peach: Four Seasons on My Family Farm."

Summer still

Because autumn does not arrive until Tuesday, I slip in a version of this summer cake from "Rustic Fruit Desserts: Crumbles, Buckles, Cobblers, Pandowdies, and More," by Cory Schreiber and Julie Richardson. It hits the spot.

Stone Fruit Tea Cake

1 Tbsp. unsalted butter, at room temperature, for pan
2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. fine sea salt
1 cup granulated sugar
3/4 cup unsalted butter, at room temperature
3 eggs
1 Tbsp. pure vanilla extract
2 1/2 cups coarsely chopped mixed stone fruit, fresh or frozen
1 Tbsp. turbinado sugar

Whisk the flour, baking powder and salt together in a bowl.

Using a handheld mixer with beaters or a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, cream the sugar and butter together on medium-high speed for 3 to 5 minutes, until light and fluffy.

Add the eggs one at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl after each addition, then stir in the vanilla. Add the flour mixture and stir just until a smooth dough forms.

Wrap the dough in plastic wrap, flatten into a 1-inch-thick disk and freeze for 30 minutes.

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F. Butter a shallow 10-inch round baking pan or tart pan.

Divide the dough into two equal portions and pat one portion evenly into the bottom of the prepared pan. Spread the fruit over the dough. Break the remainder of the dough into tablespoon-size pieces and distribute atop the fruit, then sprinkle the turbinado sugar over the dessert.

Bake for 30 to 40 minutes, or until lightly golden and firm. Cool for 30 minutes before serving. Makes 10 to 12 servings.

Why bears must hibernate

Now I know I am fruit-obsessed. I find myself going through summer withdrawal, seriously. I realize just now I am not able to have another terrific yellow peach this year. The season's over.

I should have made cobbler more often. Shoot. I should have made pie. I should have simply ODed on fruit. (To be fair, I did have my fill.) Where does the time go? Is there even a reason still to visit the farmers' market? Oh, kettle corn. Is it any wonder bears hibernate?

Wisdom

David Mas Masumoto works hard both in and out of the fields.

The third-generation Japanese American, whose "Epitaph for a Peach: Four Seasons on My Family Farm" is a perennial favorite, recently published "Wisdom of the Last Farmer: Harvesting Legacies from the Land."

Like earlier titles, this book touches upon themes of home and hope, prosperity and posterity.

Referring to Masumoto as "America's Peach Laureate," something with which I cannot argue, The Seattle Times offers a substantial review:

"His prose is contemplative, disciplined and repetitive in a pleasing way.

"He gives marvelously detailed particulars about farming, especially the hard work of weeding by hand, the continual vigilance for plant diseases and pests, and the precise timing of when to pick the fruit and rush it to market..."

It is worth the read.

Three-quarters plum, one-quarter apricot

Chip Brantley remembers eating a pluot for the first time at a farmers' market in Culver City in the middle of the week.

"I was warm and hungry, and it looked like a plum... When I bit into it, it felt almost liquid, like plum jelly. I ate it outside the fruit tent, bent forward, dripping juice onto the pavement, and I used my two front teeth to scrape off the flesh that clung to the pit."

He remembers learning its name and proper pronunciation at another farmers' market a few days later.

"Feeling somewhat justified for having majored in French, I asked the man at the stand what the story was with the 'plew-ohs.' He looked over at me and said, 'PLEW-ott. PLUH-um and ay-prick-OT. Plu-ots.' 'Pluots,' I said, turning it over in my mouth."

In "The Perfect Fruit: Good Breeding, Bad Seeds, and the Hunt for the Elusive Pluot," Brantley details his affection for the unique fruit. He sings its praises. Co-founder of the website cookthink.com, he traces the development in California of the hybrid fruit and its increasing popularity among growers and shoppers in recent years.

Three-quarters plum and one-quarter apricot, the pluot is prettier and substantially sweeter than either of the individual fruits. The Flavor King, for instance, one of a handful of pluot varieties, is "dark purple, almost blue, and lightly specked with gold," Brantley tells us. It tastes "of caramel and almonds."

Pluots appeared initially in the early 1990s in markets on the West Coast, after decades of experimentation by Floyd Zaiger, "considered by many who knew about these things to be the foremost fruit breeder in the world."

A scientist in Modesto and owner of Zaiger Genetics, Zaiger, 83, has helped to create more than 200 new and improved fruits, from low-acid peaches to different types of apples and pears. For his contributions, he was awarded the American Pomological Society's Wilder Medal in 1995, "the fruiticultural equivalent of the Pulitzer Prize."

Brantley sheds light on the late Luther Burbank, too, a botanist in Northern California who cultivated numerous strains and varieties of plants during his lifetime, including the Santa Rosa plum and the plumcot, equal halves plum and apricot. He describes Burbank's work and achievements in the field, remarkable accomplishments that preceded Zaiger's by a generation.

Part personal narrative, part food world exegesis, "The Perfect Fruit..." brings to mind other nonfiction titles. The author's love for the pluot, for instance, recalls David Mas Masumoto's devotion to the peach in "Epitaph for a Peach: Four Seasons on My Family Farm."

His look into the lives of fruit breeders and his forays into the Central Valley, "that enormous trough that occupies the whole middle of California," remind us in some way of Susan Orlean's experiences with orchid collectors in South Florida in "The Orchid Thief."

And his talk of taste, of pluots grown primarily for mouth feel rather than size or durability, makes us want to re-read Russ Parsons' "How to Pick a Peach: The Search for Flavor from Farm to Table." It makes us want to celebrate, and indulge in, truly amazing summer fruit.

Straightforward and occasionally humorous, Brantley's book provides insight on a burgeoning industry, one that can benefit farmers and retailers as well as consumers. It makes agricultural science accessible, helping us to realize where some of our best foods come from and the effort involved in producing them.

(This review appears originally in the San Francisco Chronicle.)