Peachy Keen

THERE IS SUCH A THING AS NECTAR OF THE GODS. BUT IT COMES ONLY ONCE A YEAR— NOW!—AND AT A PRICE.

- Ruth Reichl

Do you remember the first thing you ever tasted that shook you to your core? That childhood morsel that showed you how happy food can make you? Most of us keep the memory tucked away, a half-forgotten promise that is always there, waiting to be fulfilled.

For me it was a perfectly ripe peach. I was only two, but I will never forget the feeling of the sun on my arms and the slight scratchiness of the picnic blanket I was perched on. But what I remember most is the joyous shock of the soft, sweet flesh and the wash of peach juice rushing through my mouth.

For years I chased that flavor, only to be disappointed by pallid fruit so crisp and fragrance-free I was convinced some alien species had replaced the peaches of my childhood. It took 30 years, but one day I walked into Monterey Market, in Berkeley, California, and found the air perfumed with the elusive scent of peaches. That fragrance was so familiar! Almost in a trance I reached for a peach and took a bite. And almost fainted—the flavor was that intense.