writer and photographer JULIA MATUSIK
I'm old enough to remember peaches that tasted sublime. Mouthfuls of sunshine with juice that dripped down your chin and through your fingers. The initial fuzziness of peach skin, tiny bristles along your lips that, once you bite through, give way to dense, sweet, golden flesh.
If supermarket peaches are all you have tasted, you could be forgiven for thinking they are highly over-rated. Picked under-ripe and transported goodness knows how far, they sit on the supermarket shelf protected by cardboard or plastic trays with peach-sized indentations. They might look peachy, with a blush of colour, but invariably, they will be hard and tasteless and will remain that way until, uneaten, they wither and get tossed away.
I recall reading about Alice Waters, of Chez Panisse restaurant fame in California. She had peaches on the menu for dessert. They were not poached peaches, grilled peaches, or in any way transformed peaches, just fresh peaches at the point of perfect ripeness. The problem with peaches, and nectarines for that matter, is that this moment of eating perfection is fleeting. And for this reason, you are unlikely to encounter it with the store-bought variety. You can try and coax them into reasonable ripeness by leaving them in a warm place and checking them daily – even a gentle press to the skin will likely leave a bruise, however, so check for ripeness by sniffing them. A sweet aroma indicates the peach is ripe.
Unfortunately, you need to be prepared that this might never happen.
If you are lucky enough to have your own peach tree, or know someone who does, you have a chance to taste peach perfection. If not, it is worth a trip to an orchard such as Canes in the Huon Valley. At the height of summer, they sell stone fruit ripened on the trees in the sun's warmth and transported just a few hundred metres to a customer outlet.
White peaches have grown in popularity in recent years. Good ones are unfailingly sweet, with a delicate rose aroma. I admit to finding them a bit one-dimensional; to my mind, they taste sweet without the complexity of flavour the yellow ones bring. Perhaps that is just me and my peach memories.
I would never suggest that you cook a perfectly ripe peach. They are to be savoured just as they ae. Cooking, however, can improve lesser specimens. Halved peaches sprinkled with sugar, grilled and served with a dollop of cream, make a simple summer dessert. Alternatively, try roasting peach halves with a drizzle of honey or maple syrup. Peach pies are synonymous with the American south, particularly open pies, the fruit topped with a crumble of spices and pecans. Or you could try a peach frangipane tart. Peach jam is arguably the best jam around. The low level of pectin in peaches makes it notoriously tricky to set, but its softer set is, I think, part of its appeal. Try combining the peaches with lemon verbena or chamomile for a subtle addition to the flavour. I enjoy a peach salsa – finely chopped peaches with red chilli, coriander and a squeeze of lime or lemon that complements grilled fish or chicken. And it is always worth bottling peaches; they make a good substitute for fresh long after the peach season has passed.
At the height of the peach season, I always bake a cake or two that incorporates fresh peaches. This peach and thyme cake is baked in a loaf tin, making it ideal for taking along on summer adventures. You can substitute nectarines for the peaches and make it all year round using bottled fruit.
Peach and thyme cake
Makes one 21 x 11 cm loaf
90 g plain flour
60 g almond meal
11/2 teaspoons baking powder
170 g caster sugar
1 tablespoon thyme leaves
125 g salted butter, softened
1 teaspoon vanilla essence
2 eggs
80 ml milk
2 peaches, sliced into wedges
For the topping:
80 g plain flour
60 g cold salted butter
45 g brown sugar
1 teaspoon thyme leaves
20 g flaked almonds
Preheat the oven to 170°C. Grease an 11 x 21 cm loaf tin and line with baking paper, leaving the baking paper hanging over the side of the tin so the cake will be easier to remove.
Make the topping first. Put the flour in a small bowl and, using your fingers, rub the butter through until the mixture resembles breadcrumbs. Gently mix the remaining ingredients through and set aside while you make the cake.
Combine the flour and almond meal in a small bowl. Add the baking powder and use a whisk to give it a mix. Set aside.
Put the sugar and thyme into the bowl of a stand mixer. Use your fingers to rub the thyme into the sugar. This will release some of the oil from the thyme, and the flavour will be a little stronger. Add the butter and cream the mixture until it is light, fluffy and changed in colour. Pour in the vanilla essence and give it a quick mix. Add the eggs, one at a time, being sure to mix thoroughly before you add the second egg. Tip in the dry ingredients with the milk and mix until the flour is incorporated and the batter smooth.
Spoon the batter into the loaf tin. Arrange the peach wedges on top, then sprinkle the topping over.
Bake for 40-45 minutes, until the cake is lightly golden on top. Leave in the tin for 15 minutes before removing and placing on a cooling rack.
The cake will keep well in the fridge in an airtight container for 3-4 days.
Julia Matusik is the complete foodie. She has had market stalls, organised farmer’s markets, run a cafe, done postgraduate studies in gastronomy, conducted cooking classes and judged preserves and cakes at the Brisbane Show. She cooks most days and, perhaps most tellingly, she misses cooking when she goes on holiday. Julia and her husband Michael recently moved from Brisbane to Geeveston, where they now live in an 1890s farm cottage, surrounded by a seasonal rhythm far more pronounced than the life they knew in the sub-tropics. More of Julia Matusik’s writing and recipes can be found at www.juliaspantry.com.au.
