I finally added that quintessential summer dessert, the peach pie, to my baking repertoire. Other than disliking the tactile feeling of peach fuzz when eating this fruit whole, I am not sure why I avoided making this delicious blend of fruit, sugar, and cinnamon.  An omission now rectified using Momma’s recipe via Betty Crocker.

I have fond memories of Momma buying fresh Colorado peaches by the crate; each precious, ripe orb wrapped in soft pale-yellow tissue paper. Those delicate papers (in my doll playing days) were transformed from protective practicality to fairy fluttering doll dresses.

Each crate provided a sufficient quantity of ripe fruit that a portion could simply be eaten.  Tasting as if fresh from the tree and bitten into like an apple, we leaned forward slightly to allow plump juices to inevitably dribble down our chins and drip on the concrete. But a large portion filled double crusted pies. Some of the pies were baked in the cool morning hours and then enjoyed in the early evening with vanilla ice cream and others, oven-ready, were frozen. These Momma retrieved on harsh winter days, and they served as memories of summer warmth.  She always saved one for Dad’s February 16 birthday when it became a birthday pie complete with candles.

Bon Appétit!