Ode to a juicy peach

By PATTIE MIHALIK

newsgirl@comcast.net

I'm sitting here in ecstasy.

I'm eating a ripe peach. It's so deliciously ripe that juice dribbles down my chin. Every bite confirms my taste buds are being treated to an extraordinary experience.

You may be sitting there thinking, come on! It's just a peach.

No, it's not "just a peach." It's a perfectly ripe peach. There's a perfect stage somewhere between ripe and overly ripe when taste is at its zenith.

Believe it or not, it's been years since I had this experience.

I live here in Florida where I can go into my backyard and pick an orange off a tree. Before it died, the same was true of my grapefruit tree.

But beyond citrus, ripe fruit doesn't have the same meaning as it does in good old Pennsylvania.

Our supermarkets offer hard fruit. I'm told I need to bring it home and let it sit out for a few days. Then it will be ready to eat.

When I let peaches sit out, they go from their hard as stone stage to shriveled and dried. There never comes a time when they are delightfully juicy and flavorful.

OK, I ruled out supermarket fruit and traveled 35 minutes to our premiere fresh produce stand.

Once again, the peaches were as hard as tennis balls. I went up to the clerk and asked if she had any ripe fruit. She told me the same old story: Take the peaches home and let them ripen.

She explained the fruit they carry in their "fresh produce" specialty store is shipped in from other states. They have to pick it green, she said, or fruit will bruise in transport and no one will want it.

If ever I miss Pennsylvania, it's a time like that.

A trip to a farmers market was always a pleasure for me. Fruit was always tree-ripened and produce was so inexpensive I could afford to buy it by the bushel basket.

In late summer I always bought green peppers, tomatoes and peaches by the basket.

My absolutely favorite produce place was Thomas Merkle's little farm in Mahoning Valley. Every time I went there I filled the back of my SUV with his glorious offerings.

Thomas, please know I miss you. I miss your three kinds of fresh basil, miniature eggplant and ripe fruit fresh from your orchard.

Here in Florida, I keep stopping at several so-called farmers markets and roadside fruit stands. It's always the same story. The fruit is hard and when you get it home, it's tasteless.

In my quest to find juicy fresh fruit, I stopped at a fresh produce stand in another town. I told the clerk I would pay anything for fruit that was really ripe.

I think she took pity on me because she left the busy cashier's line and took me to her private stash where spotty or bruised fruit was tucked away. It was there that I found ripe peaches and overly ripe cantaloupe. At home, I cut away the spotty parts and finally feasted on ripe fruit.

I know you don't have to go through that when you want perfect fruit. If you have a farmers market near you, think of me when you can buy any variety of truly fresh produce.

Just this morning, my daughter who is "into fresh, natural foods," forwarded an email to me called "seven effective food strategies."

This is one of the rules:

"Buy fresh and local." The fresher produce is, the more nutrients it has. By buying locally, you'll minimize the amount of time wasted between harvest and consumption and optimize the nutritional value for your body. The produce is fresher and usually has not been subjected to irradiation (getting zapped by radiation to kill germs), wax coatings or prolonged refrigeration."

I agree with that, but finding it isn't all that easy here in southwest Florida.

OK, as long as I'm saluting simple pleasures I miss, I have to add tomatoes loaded with flavor. We don't have tasty tomatoes here in my part of Florida, at least not in my estimation. A few people tell me it is possible to find great tomatoes here.

I've tried. I think what I miss is being able to have a ripe tomato fresh from the garden. Warmed by the sun, a garden tomato even has a special smell all its own. All you need for bliss, in my estimation, is a garden tomato and a sprinkle of salt.

In desperation, I've tried growing my own tomatoes. Our hot climate is fabulous for my favorite outdoor activities. But it's not very conducive to growing tomatoes.

I went to one of those free seminars where they told us how to grow our own tomatoes. I wrote down every recommendation for variety, soil composition and best growing techniques then I bought everything the expert suggested.

My husband and I planted the tomato plants with high hopes. The next day, there was nothing left to our plants. Some animal ate the plants right down to the ground. We don't have deer in this neck of the woods so I'm guessing a raccoon. Whatever it was, it ended my hopes of good garden tomatoes.

Every night before I fall asleep I say thank you for large and small blessings of the day.

Tonight, my thank you prayer will be for one perfect, juicy peach.