At some point in the midst of peach season each year, I stop eating this succulent fruit long enough to place my foot squarely inside my mouth.
“I’m not sure if the peaches from South Carolina or Georgia are better,” I’ll say offhandedly to whomever I might enrage, “but one thing’s for sure. Neither are as good as the peaches from Colorado.”
And then I duck in case a pit gets hurled at my head.
It’s true, though. The Western Slope of Colorado is deservedly famous for its fruit orchards. It’s been a long time since I’ve lived in the Rockies, but as I remember the peaches there grow larger, feel heavier in your hand and gush more wantonly when you bite into them. I remember their having a jasmine-like smell and ample sweetness that would almost be too sweet if it weren’t for the balancing edge of acid.
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