Besides the availability of tacos on practically every street corner in Dallas, one of the things I missed about Texas every summer while in Paris was the peaches.
I like to cut them up and mix them up with Greek yogurt (or now, the Noosa plain one, which I’m totally addicted to) and muesli and call it lunch. I put them in cobblers, crumbles (see my recent Cowgirl Chef column in The Fort Worth Star-Telegram that’s all about summer fruit desserts) and hand pies. Mix them into ice cream. Toss them into salads. Grill them and add mozzarella. Make peach and jalapeño-spiked salsa, and spoon it over fish. Eat them while standing over the sink, because it would be too messy any other way.
They are all kinds of wonderfulness, Texas peaches are.
I realize it seems early to be buying peaches, but the ones I bought last week (and again today) are perfect. They’re smaller than the ones I remember, and maybe this is just a small variety that’s available right now, but they’re lovely and sweet and everything a peach should be. Right now I’m in Texas, and I’m eating all I can — because I’ll soon be on the big plane again, headed back across the pond.
(Mom, if you’re reading this, I’ll be back in time for some birthday peach cobbler…AND chocolate cake with white icing.)