It’s a personal philosophy. I cannot eat a peach, nectarine or apricot unless it is so ripe the skin is like the back of my grandmother’s arm. I recall vividly sitting outside on our porch on a September evening while my mother was off having a baby. I put my hand on the back of her arm and said “Oh, gramma! Your skin is so soft.” Her clucking laugh sounded like a chicken. Although knowing my grandmother as I did, she was probably thinking, “Scram, what’s-your-name.”
My friend Jean (Jeanne, in French) brought me a Georgia peach. I waited 4 days for it to reach the proper skin-so-soft. Then I refrigerated it and ate it over the sink. You have to. They are soooo juicy and luscious, to fully enjoy it, you must endure the disturbing ignominy of the eating procedure.
