Last of the Summer Peaches

One of the perks of going home to Virginia for the summer is the big, juicy, sun-fed, Sounthern peaches. Virginia is no Georgia, so I can only imagine how good those taste, but it's closer than, say, Ohio. When I lived in Chicago, the closest peaches came from Michigan, which are small and flavorless in comparison.

We let the peaches ripen for another week after buying them. When the skin starts to shrivel, that indicates that there is less water in the fruit than when it was picked, meaning maximum sweetness and concentrated flavor. Anyone who has ever tried to eat a ripe pear knows that fruit is often the best just before it goes bad.

My aunt is famous for her baked goods (something I didn't really inherit) and every summer she buys bushels of peaches to make pies. For the most part, I prefer my fruit unadulterated. This peach tart recipe is a nice compromise because it's simple (and lends itself well for my impatience with baking).

Ingredients:
1 sheet puff pastry, thawed
2-3 peaches, sliced
2 Tbsp sugar

Directions:
Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

Using a knife, score a 1-inch square border around the puff pastry (don't cut all the way through).

Arrange the peaches within the square and sprinkle entire area with the sugar.

Bake until pastry is golden brown.

Yes, that's bacon. No, I wouldn't recommend it.

Happy Independence Day!

I hope you're keeping cool this July 4th. Cut the beer and the barbeque with some all-American corn on the cob.

This is my lunch of champions: avocado, corn on the cob, and pasta salad Fabio style.

Enjoy the holiday folks!

Domaine Forget

I just got back from a two-week session of woodwind masterclasses at Domaine Forget in Quebec, Canada. Domaine Forget is located on the north side of the St. Lawrence Seaway, a wide river (and set of locks and canals) that enable ships to make it from the Great Lakes out to sea.

Not only was this my first time to Canada, but also my first trip out of the country. My prior exposure with all things Canadian was a two-pronged: Barney Stinson jokes from How I Met Your Mother and the more romantic Anne of Green Gables. Regardless, I knew I was going to like it there.

After a 16-hour drive, we arrived at beautiful Domaine Forget - a plot of land on the side of a hill with old renovated barns, and a magnificent view of the water. I enjoyed this view from the front porch of my little studio apartment. It was the perfect spot to read a book and listen to Valtari, the new Sigur Ros album.

In fact the correlation between the video they released to promote the album almost exactly captures the way the ships float along. If the light is just right, the ships look like ghosts floating just above the water. The effect is eerie and magical.

The romantic in me got used to eating meals on the deck with a a view of my very own "'lake' of shining waters," climbing a hill on a rickety wooden staircase in the woods, and admiring the green grass flecked with all sorts of wildflowers. I was one step short of picking them and weaving a wreath to wear on my head.

I even made some "bosom friends." Who knew you could get so close to people in two short weeks? My long drive home was a nostalgic one, recalling that time I cried all the way home from my last All-State orchestra concert senior year of high school. Hopefully music will bring us together again. After all, the music world is a small one.

The unfortunate consequence of being surrounded by such beauty is that Cleveland pales in comparison. Lake Erie is usually various shades of black.