A couple of weeks ago, when I read “Last call for actual Georgia peaches” on Atlanta Magazine’s blog, I hurried over to Sweet Auburn Curb Market to pick up a bag full of the sweet fuzzies from Pearson Farm. That same week, I read a lovely peach cobbler recipe on Ruth Reichl’s blog (which is full of the same gorgeous writing we came to expect from Gourmet and that changed my life when I read one of her many books, Garlic and Sapphires). I also follow Reichl’s tweets, which are like little foodie love haikus each day. If you aren’t already a fan of her work, you will be after reading just one line.
 
But I digress—her recipes are as tried and true as her writing about them and, when I saw this cobbler, I knew it would be a hit. I also happened to have every single ingredient on hand already. The aforementioned peaches, of course, plus pantry staples like sugar, flour, baking powder, baking soda, butter and salt. We had cornstarch from a previous okra frying experiment and the remaining ingredients were kind of serendipitous—I had exactly a half lemon leftover from making hummus and some buttermilk remaining from a birthday cake I’d made earlier in the week. It was baked fruit destiny!
 
As I peeled and sliced the rosy gold peaches into the pie plate, juice trickling down my wrists, I felt late summer slipping through my fingers. I’m a firm believer in taking a moment while cooking to give thanks for good, honest ingredients and I was so thankful that day for Pearson Farm peaches. It was a wonderful thing to breathe in the smells of sweet peach nectar and lemony citrus. It was even better that the smell lingered on my fingertips and in the kitchen, appeasing my senses while the cobbler was bubbling away in the oven. The recipe is simple and the results are delicious and comforting. I recommend having a few friends around when the cobbler comes out of the oven. Either that or having an iron will, because I was alone when this beauty came out and it took a heck of a lot of will power not to devour the whole pie plate. But maybe you just need an iron stomach instead…and a spoon.