What is it about 106 degree heat that inspires me to make peach cobbler? Maybe it was the extended family reunion today; the German potato salad, bratwurst, and homemade banana pudding. Or just knowing that Texas peaches are now in season; when I was seven or eight, I would climb the peach tree in our backyard, my parents would make peach ice cream or peach pie, and the summer lasted what seemed like forever.
About a month ago I decided that I wanted my daughter to grow up eating fresh food. I would make pizza with fresh mozzarella, tomatoes, and garden basil. I would invoke my right to create an octopus linguine, with white wine, butter, and garlic. No Stouffers lasagna for us. No, I will layer lasagna noodles with veal Bolognese and ricotta. So, when I saw the peaches on display at the market, it was decided. Peach cobbler it was.
I will preface my enjoyment of the warm dessert with the declaration that I in no way trained in the culinary arts. While I do have a bachelor’s degree in Human Nutrition and Food Management, my education consisted of the more scientific side of things, and concentrated in Dietetics. And while I have always enjoyed my cooking, my sommelier husband at times offers suggestions to make things better, and will only ever admit that any meal is just “okay”.
Have you ever peeled peaches? I have never thought of such a thing. I am sure with that peach tree growing in the back, my mother had peeled peaches. But, I also remember a lot of canned peaches. My grandmother used to have them at the end of every meal: always present in a large bowl, in light syrup. Regardless, I used a peeler from the crowded drawer to pull the skin away from the juicy fruit. My hands became sticky as I sliced the flesh into small slices. I even made simple syrup using sugar and water.
The cobbler batter was formed from a recipe I found on the epicurious app for my i-phone. All I had to do was pour the batter over butter, and the peaches over the batter. Heat at 375F for 35 minutes. Simple as pie.
Let’s hope this trend is one to look forward to every summer. Next year, even Rheagan can have some.