A Peach Full of Memories

A Peach Full of Memories

Of all the fresh fruits I look forward to eating the most each year, peaches rank the highest (raspberries take a very close second). Peaches are better than candy–and I don’t care how much sugar content they have, I can eat six thousand and one in a single sitting and remain 100% guilt free.

This morning I blended up the last of my second bushel. When only four peaches remained in the box, I realized that if I didn’t eat one of them, I would most likely not have another fresh peach until September of next year. Without a second thought I cut it open, removed the pit and skin and sunk my teeth into its juicy flesh. My taste buds knew exactly what to expect and they weren’t disappointed. But what I didn’t expect was the flood of memories that came rushing into my head with that first bite.
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Trauma in the Kitchen: It Found Me

I’m not sure if even the best of chefs are immune to traumatic kitchen moments, but as an amateur, I know I have my fair share of them. With time I’ve learned to let them roll off my back and learn all I can from them. It’s probably a good thing too, or I’d be too afraid to set foot in the kitchen… burned fingers, crappy bread, etc. etc. Yep, I’ve been there and I’m sure I’ve got my fair share still coming to me.

A few years back I wrote a short, frivolous story for a writing seminar/class all about a terrible cooking day I’d experienced in the kitchen of my wife and I’s first apartment. We lived in an 8-plex’s basement in a one bedroom apartment. It was small, but not unbearable: it had a decent kitchen. Now, if there’s one thing I’ve learned about cooking, it’s that it has a way of humbling you when you least expect it… here’s my story. Reading time is approximately 8 minutes.
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