In my mailbox recently was an advertisement from one of my favorite cooking sites (their recipes are usually not entirely about exotic ingredients and three-day preparations). Now, I know that many of the items they promote are, to put it mildly, a little outside my price range, so seeing a pretty mortar and pestle going for $65 doesn't shock me.
However, their special was six New England peaches for $31 plus $8 shipping and handling.
For those of you too lazy to do math any more, that's six dollars and fifty cents per peach. I can get a whole peck of good pie apples, three pounds of fresh grapes, a dozen oranges, or two pounds of fresh bing cherries for the price of one peach.
The ad promised that said peaches would be large, juicy, and full of flavor. But at $6.50 per globe, I'd be looking at the bottom of the shipping crate to see if Aunt Sponge and Aunt Spiker were squished into it. Anything less than full Roald-Dahl-scaled impressive, and I'd rather fork out that kind of cash on my own gol-durned peach tree.
Come to think of it, maybe that's what I'll ask for, when my birthday rolls around…we need to take out the dying crabapples, & find a proper replacement. And there'd be fresh peaches every summer and homemade pie very year for the rest of my life.
Mmm…peach pie. Any pie.
Dang it! Now I'm going to have to bake something I shouldn't eat.
Meanwhile, I'm going to reread that awesome book, and dream of trans-oceanic fruit flights.
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