Last week I bought a crate - yes, an entire crate - of peaches from the farmers market. It was an impulse buy ignited by the fact that we arrived late to the market and all I could seem to notice were other market goers happily strolling by, their fine peaches already claimed and brimming over the tops of their shopping bags. Also, because Sarah had just purchased a beautiful looking peach and brown butter crepe, which she refused to share (but let me smell) and then proceeded to sit and leisurely eat while I sweated it out in the peach stand line alone. So much for farmer's market solidarity.
So, determined to make my own, better, more delicious peach crepe (take that Sarah) we ended up wrestling an entire crate of plump Red Havens home on the El. I ate one en route and we donated two to the homeless and very boisterous gentlewoman who frequents our block. Still there wasn't enough room in the fridge to house them all. We had peach smoothies for breakfast three days in a row, grilled a bunch with pork chops, tossed them in arugula salads and froze some more for future smoothies. By Monday there were, amazingly, only five left and I had them slated for a dessert.
