That first peach fell at my feet. Idling in the shade of the tree, drawn by the fragrant scent of its fruit, I was disturbed by a dull thud and the rustle of dry grass. The tree had ripened a peach all it could—and let it go. It smelled like heaven, sweet, rich and good. I inhaled its perfume as I do a good single malt. Eating a perfectly ripe peach is an experience: it is as much a drink as food. The juiciness as much as the flavour made me laugh; they are almost impossibly fine. I quickly learnt to lean forward, my mouth beyond my feet, to avoid soaking trousers and shoes.
Much of the splendour of homegrown peaches and nectarines is owed to being able to harvest them at their peak, rather than early and firm, many days ahead of perfection, so they can stand the trip to the supermarket shelves. Peach or nectarine will tell you it’s approaching its peak with its scent—you can smell it from yards away and nectarines will often deepen in colour as the moment to pick them nears.
Sadly, we can’t sit under the tree waiting for them to fall. Once that scent draws you in, it’s time to cup each ripening fruit in the palm of your hand and turn it with as little grip as possible; when it’s ready, it will drop with no persuasion. A gentle hand is vital. Don’t squeeze the fruit—any pressure damages the flesh accelerates decay and draws the wasps.
Denne historien er fra August 05, 2020-utgaven av Country Life UK.
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Denne historien er fra August 05, 2020-utgaven av Country Life UK.
Start din 7-dagers gratis prøveperiode på Magzter GOLD for å få tilgang til tusenvis av utvalgte premiumhistorier og 9000+ magasiner og aviser.
Allerede abonnent? Logg på
Save our family farms
IT Tremains to be seen whether the Government will listen to the more than 20,000 farming people who thronged Whitehall in central London on November 19 to protest against changes to inheritance tax that could destroy countless family farms, but the impact of the good-hearted, sombre crowds was immediate and positive.
A very good dog
THE Spanish Pointer (1766–68) by Stubbs, a landmark painting in that it is the artist’s first depiction of a dog, has only been exhibited once in the 250 years since it was painted.
The great astral sneeze
Aurora Borealis, linked to celestial reindeer, firefoxes and assassinations, is one of Nature's most mesmerising, if fickle displays and has made headlines this year. Harry Pearson finds out why
'What a good boy am I'
We think of them as the stuff of childhood, but nursery rhymes such as Little Jack Horner tell tales of decidedly adult carryings-on, discovers Ian Morton
Forever a chorister
The music-and way of living-of the cabaret performer Kit Hesketh-Harvey was rooted in his upbringing as a cathedral chorister, as his sister, Sarah Sands, discovered after his death
Best of British
In this collection of short (5,000-6,000-word) pen portraits, writes the author, 'I wanted to present a number of \"Great British Commanders\" as individuals; not because I am a devotee of the \"great man, or woman, school of history\", but simply because the task is interesting.' It is, and so are Michael Clarke's choices.
Old habits die hard
Once an antique dealer, always an antique dealer, even well into retirement age, as a crop of interesting sales past and future proves
It takes the biscuit
Biscuit tins, with their whimsical shapes and delightful motifs, spark nostalgic memories of grandmother's sweet tea, but they are a remarkably recent invention. Matthew Dennison pays tribute to the ingenious Victorians who devised them
It's always darkest before the dawn
After witnessing a particularly lacklustre and insipid dawn on a leaden November day, John Lewis-Stempel takes solace in the fleeting appearance of a rare black fox and a kestrel in hot pursuit of a pipistrelle bat
Tarrying in the mulberry shade
On a visit to the Gainsborough Museum in Sudbury, Suffolk, in August, I lost my husband for half an hour and began to get nervous. Fortunately, an attendant had spotted him vanishing under the cloak of the old mulberry tree in the garden.
