Sunday, August 26, 2007

Peach Season

I just returned from the fridge for the third time in three hours. My lips are sticky, raspy. It's peach season again, a time when these local delectable fuzzy drugs enter the supermarkets and fruit markets on nearly every corner of this city, in this great province that yields some of the best peaches on earth. Each august it is the same: big baskets of peaches in wooden bushel baskets, some small, some large but always delicious. I try to buy four at a time, sometimes three. If I buy an entire basket I am asking for trouble. Yesterday I managed four and now they are all gone. I left them in the fridge for an hour to let them cool slightly - for peaches are like wine susceptible to temperature, exposure to air and the way in they you consume them. The first peach was soft to the touch. My first bite was perfect: sweet as a mango to the core, the flesh even in consistency, and the skin slightly bitter. The flesh was a deep orange and it fell from the pit without force. The second peach was firmer, bitterer. But a firm bitter peach is a nice way to balance off the sweetness of the previous peach - and give a more satisfying meal because it requires more chewing and effort to consumer whereas the first peach was sweet, and fell apart in my mouth giving it the sense of dessert. The third peach I slicked with a knife, cutting it in 8 lengthwise slices and then pulling them off one by one. Eating a peach in this way allows you to treat the peach like an Hors D'oeuvres, slowly and carefully. Being in the fridge the longest, these slices were cool to the tongue, giving them the likeness of champagne, but the full body feeling of a good chardonnay.

Monday, August 13, 2007

August Nights

I haven't been writing much here on this good old bloggy blog blog. I think part of it has to do with a certain addition to Facebook -- which is part habit, part lifestyle and I have not decided if that is a good thing or not. I have a feeling Facebook will be here for a while because I have the same ambivalence as I did for having my first cell phone in 2001. But alas. This was all to say that tonight I was walking home from the suburbs - it was 20 degrees. The wind was blowing from the north and the crickets are out in full force. If summer was an opera, the crickets of August are the creshendo leading to the final act where the hero faces his/her own mortality (at least where I'm from). The sad yet triumphant part.

And where can you express that on Facebook?

Friday, August 03, 2007

Cougar Headlines