Confessions of a foodie
What better way to mark the end of summer than indulge myself with a plate of juicy end-of-summer peaches?! I crave these curvaceous fruit because of its aroma and texture. I am convinced that biting into a soft-skinned peach that releases sugary juice and smells like meadow is a piece of heaven on Earth.
There are three stages of a peach: (1) apple-solid peach that is way too crunchy and has almost zero juiciness; (2) soft and fragrant peach that releases its sweet nectar as I bite into it; (3) overly ripe empty-feeling peach that is mushy and tasteless inside. Most peaches I have encountered in the US are either #1 or #3. It is immensely difficult to find those #2 perfect juicy peaches that remind me of carefree summer days of my childhood at dacha back home.
Peaches can also be a source of instant gratification for perfectionists who yearn for a moment of sensory and visual satisfaction. If you ever had that perfectly ripe peach, you know what I’m talking about. When you halve a peach and the seed breaks away from the pulp like an avocado and the skin peels off like a boiled tomato — that’s what perfectionist’s dreams are made of!
In fact, in Azerbaijan, we have a colloquial name for the perfectionist’s peach, hülü (not to be confused with the streaming service). Hülü refers to a peach that is slightly elongated and slender in shape with the seed breaking away easily. Even though I can’t find any reference to hülü online, I swear it exists, my dad can attest 😃 I haven’t had one in a really long time, so for now I will have to go back to the subpar peaches I bought from the grocery store.