It’s rare that I come across a piece of fruit that I think is cute. So cute that I have to buy it. But that’s really the only reason I bought a couple of donut peaches the other day. Because they were cute. So cute that I bought them even though they weren’t organic – despite the fact that peaches are reportedly one of the worst fruits to buy conventional. Guess I felt the need for a little dangerous living.
Have you seen these? They’re nothing like your standard fuzzy, drippy peach. They’re kind of flat-ish and low-fuzz and the flesh is white. Because of the shape, they easily break in half and you can pop the pit right out. Kind of like an avocado.
To me, the consistency was like that of a soft pear and it kind of tasted more like a plum than a peach. Having never had them before, I couldn’t tell you where these were on the ripeness scale. Under ripe? Over ripe? Just right? Don’t know, but they were at least fun to eat.
I have this long-standing fantasy in which I buy a large box of donuts and, while sexily dressed in pink pajama pants and one of Mr. Jelly Belly’s oversized t-shirts, I lounge on the couch all day eating donuts and watching trash television - until I can no longer stand the ecstasy of it all and fall into a happy sugar coma. But, like all good fantasies, this one will never see the light of day. But maybe I can improvise with a dozen donut peaches and a Golden Girls marathon.
Somehow, I just don’t think it will be the same.
Have you seen these? They’re nothing like your standard fuzzy, drippy peach. They’re kind of flat-ish and low-fuzz and the flesh is white. Because of the shape, they easily break in half and you can pop the pit right out. Kind of like an avocado.
To me, the consistency was like that of a soft pear and it kind of tasted more like a plum than a peach. Having never had them before, I couldn’t tell you where these were on the ripeness scale. Under ripe? Over ripe? Just right? Don’t know, but they were at least fun to eat.
I have this long-standing fantasy in which I buy a large box of donuts and, while sexily dressed in pink pajama pants and one of Mr. Jelly Belly’s oversized t-shirts, I lounge on the couch all day eating donuts and watching trash television - until I can no longer stand the ecstasy of it all and fall into a happy sugar coma. But, like all good fantasies, this one will never see the light of day. But maybe I can improvise with a dozen donut peaches and a Golden Girls marathon.
Somehow, I just don’t think it will be the same.