A Load of old Cobblers

For the first time since planting the two peach trees, we have a glut of fruit. A modest glut, to tell the truth – nothing that can’t be used up by making a couple of puddings (including the wonderfully-named cobbler, which is also Brit slang for nonsense) but more than we can just put in the fruit bowl, I’m happy to say.

This is something of a first for me, because peaches aren’t grown commercially in the UK (it’s too cold and damp) so up until now they’ve always been something of a luxury. Typically I’ve bought them under-ripe from the supermarket, only to find they’ve gone through ripe and have already started to rot by the time I get them home.

Not these ones – although we’ll have to get better at looking after the trees and knowing just when to pick. We got a few dozen very tasty fruits over several weeks (courtesy of two different varieties, fruiting at different times), and WP has cooked with them to great effect, including a memorable peach, raspberry and mint crumble last night.

Next year there may be enough for wine, which reminds me of a flatmate from University who made two gallons of peach wine, in the house on his own, the night before he set off on holiday. Two weeks later I came back from my own hols to find the entire kitchen floor sticky with spilled syrup and luxuriant black mould, and the smell of overripe peaches still makes me want to hurl. I didn’t even get to taste the wine – something I really must fix!

Which reminds me, there’s about thirty gallons of various wines ready to bottle, hiding in various locations around the house… I’d better get on with it soon. Hangovers don’t happen by themselves!