Just peachy - if you're very lucky
A recipe for Caramel Peaches with Vanilla Cream
There’s little to beat a ripe peach warmed by the sun, eaten standing under its tree with a sound similar to a Japanese slurping noodles, to staunch the juices running down your chin and arm. But how long since you’ve had one like that, unless you live somewhere in the south – of Europe or the United States - where peaches aren’t picked hard so as not to spoil on their way to the supermarket? That is how supermarkets still manage to sell them this late in the season.
One of the great joys of summer living in Washington DC was driving to the beach (though what European would be happy to drive three hours to the beach to spend just the day there?). On the way home, we’d pull in to one of the farm stands lining the Delaware route. Freshly cut corn, Silver Queen sweet as sugar, was stacked high in piles next to bowling ball watermelons and paniers of fuzzy peaches. These were as different from the peaches you could buy in supermarkets as the customary chalk and cheese. ‘Baseball’ is the more common comparison for those not so fortunate as to have their own tree, or live somewhere south of latitude 38.9072° N.
It's a shame that modern commercial requirements should so diminish the glory of a fruit as ancient and revered as the peach. Its tree gives us so much in its very short life, dying off after only 10 to 12 years. Although the name suggests it originated in Persia, China is believed to be where peach cultivation began, as long ago as 6000 BC, in Zhejiang Province of Eastern China. Peach stones between 8,000 and 7,000 years old have been found at the Kuahuqiao archeological site, located in Xianghu village in the east near Hangzhou, a site which includes artifacts believed to be the oldest in existence.
Cultivation is most likely to have taken place 2000 years ago, harvested from trees growing along the Yangtze River valley. By 1700 BC, the peach had showed up in India, with cultivation reaching Greece by 300 BC. Two fragments of mural featuring the fruit were found in Italy at Herculaneum, preserved by the eruption in 79 AD of Vesuvius. Ibn al-'Awwam, an agriculturalist based in Spain’s Seville, mentions the peach in his 12th-century Book on Agriculture. From Spain, it was taken to the Americas by the Spanish in the 16th century. In the 17th century, English horticulturalist George Minifie took them on to his estate in Virginia, the same century peaches had reached England and France.
Peaches are related to the rose, a remarkably expansive family which includes apples, cherries, pears, plums, blackberries, raspberries, strawberries - and apricots and almonds. When you consider that the kernel of the peach and those last two listed all taste like almonds, the relationship between them is less improbable than with the other fruits. I got into trouble with the US editor of my Périgord cookbook over a recipe for an open-faced apricot tart. It instructed cooks to crack the apricot shells then blanch and scatter a few of their kernels across the top before baking, a common French practice. The kernels contain cyanide, she protested. Indeed they do. And because some people are sensitive even to the 15 kernels that is the maximum recommended to eat in one sitting (I advised onky 6 or so), I substituted almond flakes. But for those of you writing a thriller, apricot and peach kernels could make an exotic murder weapon hard to detect. Besides, peach and apricot kernels are made into persipan, a cheap version of marzipan used in confectionery. It is not banned, probably because the kernels have been detoxified of amygdalin, the cyanogenic glycoside.
Pop quiz questions: they are the same species, so what is the difference between a peach and a nectarine ? Just one single gene (the MYB25). What is the difference between a clingstone peach and a freestone? You’re right: it’s all in the name…
A beautifully ripe peach should be eaten as is. But if they’re not quite as delectable as you had hoped, this recipe will make the most of them. The one for Vanilla Cream that follows is a delicious alternative to crème fraîche to have up your sleeve for any other fruit or pudding.
Serves 4
4 large peaches, blanched and peeled, then halved and destoned
100g/3 oz sugar
120ml/1/2 cup heavy cream, warmed
40g/1 1/2 oz unsalted butter
Melt the sugar in a medium saucepan over medium-low heat, swirling but not stirring the pan occasionally, cooking until the sugar is uniformly dark amber. Remove it from the heat. Slowly pour in the warm cream, stirring with a wooden spoon to combine. It will sizzle vigorously. Stir in he butter. Return the sauce to low heat and cook, stirring constantly, until smooth, 5-10 seconds. Let it cool, then store it in sterilised jars if you’re not using it immediately.
To serve, gently re-heat the caramel over low heat for a few minuts, stirring to loosen it, then pour it over the peach halves. Service it with a spoonful of Vanilla Cream or crème fraîche on top.
Vanilla Cream
120ml/ 4 fl oz heavy cream
80ml/1/2 cup mascarpone
2 tablespoons confectioners/icing sugar, sifted
1 teaspoon vanilla extract
Whisk together the cream, mascarpone, sugar and vanilla until the cream holds in stiff peaks.
We have glorious peaches here in Colorado, which put Georgia’s to shame. I’m not much for desserts — although this sounds delicious — and like to slice them (instead of tomatoes) and assemble into a caprese with fresh mozzarella, basil, some nice olive oil and good balsamic. Thanks for the history!
I used to know an Italian who developed an allergy to all stone fruits in mid life. The poor bugger KNEW what he was missing out on, and would weep while the rest of us scarfed down the sort of peaches you describe in para1.