In season

August in Texas can be a beat down. A major b.e.a.t. d.o.w.n. Like ohmygosh can it get any hotter? Will it ever cool off again? Remember those beautiful snowy days? How can one place have such extreme seasons? (And hardly anything in between, mind you.)


(Granted, this was taken on the blacktop in the parking lot at my workplace at the hottest point of the day. The official high today was only 107. So.. yeah.)

So it seems, it's understandable that every year at about this time I start going crazy for the farmers market. Because if you can't beat the heat, you may as well enjoy the fruits of its labor.

And just like last year, I've taken to stalking the Canton peach stand at the Dallas Farmers Market. Also into my bag over the last few weeks has gone some tomatoes (okay, a lot of tomatoes), okra, blueberries, fresh corn, and cream peas - also known as lady peas (gonna cook those tomorrow). But most of all, lots and lots of peaches. I go crazy for them. Much the same way I used to go crazy for nectarines when I was younger. But you really can't find locally grown nectarines around here, and grocery store produce tastes like crap once you taste these peaches. So here we are. At the peach stand on Saturday morning. Like clockwork.

Posted my recipe for the cobbler last year. And this past weekend I made peach ice cream. I think the next batch of peaches I bring home will go into the freezer so I can relive the peach joy on a colder day.



I'll look at these pictures and remember days like these, and I'm telling you, I'll probably long for them. Days when I could hear the cicadas humming outside. When little dresses and flip flops and tank tops were the uniform of choice. You think? Hrm.. Maybe.

P.S. That's my view while I'm washing the dishes at the new place. Nice huh?

Enjoy some Sam Cooke, y'all.

Late summer color

I feel like I've totally missed the window on posting about peach cobbler since it's October for crying out loud. But if you're a good girl like me and froze you some, you can still make this with fresh(ish) peaches. Or you can make the recipe with frozen peaches from the store, too. I've done that and it's very nearly just as tasty.

So yeah, these are the peaches I was obsessed with from the Farmer's Market. Did I mention those? No, that was the okra, these are the peaches. This was the real reason I was there three weekends in a row. I hit the same booth every time. If I remember correctly, the sign says they were grown in Canton. They were a bit small (always a good sign I think) and were sweet as sugar and I was like a crack addict coming back for more. Yum.



My mom made peach cobbler a lot when I was growing up. And it was served with a blop of Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla on top. Always, always. Oh yum. Usually I'm all for reinventing recipes from scratch, a la banana pudding, but there are some things you don't mess with. Banana nut bread is one of them. And peach cobbler is another. So I make it, as my mother did, with Bisquick. Don't knock it.

Take about four cups of sliced peaches. I peel the skins off too. Toss them in a pot with a wee bit of water and some sugar if you need it (if your peaches are super-sweet, you might not) and put it on low heat. Plus I like to pile in some cinnamon and a dash of nutmeg. No idea how much - do it to your taste. The original well-weathered recipe from my mom's cookbook called for a #2 can of peaches, though mom usually made this with fresh. So when I make that peach mixture, I'm aiming to heat it just long enough to get the same amount of peach-to-syrup ratio as that fabled #2 can of peaches.

Set your oven to 350 degrees (or whatever setting achieves this temperature, as is the case with my crap-box). Then mix 1 cup of Bisquick (fo sho), 1/2 cup of sugar, and 3/4 cup of milk. Meanwhile, toss 3/4 of a stick of butter into a casserole dish and pop it into the pre-heating oven until it melts. Don't let it burn!



The next part is key. Pour the batter in first, then add your peaches and syrup, spooned in delicately on top. Now, as the batter bakes and rises, it's going to soak up a lot of that yummy peach syrup. Oh yeah, and the gobs of butter. It goes in looking like a hot mess, but comes out like this after about 40-45 minutes:



Serve with ice cream if you please. In fact, I'd highly recommend it, because if you don't, you might be insulting its southern sensibility. Heaven forbid.

Okra is OK!

I've been in such a cooking rut this week. After last weekend's baking bonanza (finally made it to the store, but made shortbread cookies and muffins instead of brownies), I haven't cooked any "real food" in a while. So I'm trying to inspire myself by looking at some of the summer yummies I made back in August (and meant to post sooner).

There were about 3 weekends in a row there that I made regular visits to the Dallas Farmers Market. Every time I do that, I berate myself for not going every single weekend - it's so big and so close and there's so much good stuff. One of those weekends, I loaded up on okra. Stewed okra and tomatoes is something I was raised on, so I like to try and make up a batch every summer.

Now, if you weren't raised on okra, you might think it's pretty gross. You've got to be up for the slimy. I can absolutely see why the texture would freak someone out, but me, I don't mind at all.



There isn't really a recipe for this. Just chop up an onion and get it sauteing with some bacon drippings. Due to my desire to cook these occasional dishes from my youth, I've taken to keeping a jar of bacon drippings in my fridge. I mean, if you're southern, you just do it. Don't judge. Also, I think I used a half an onion based on how much okra I had.

Chop up your okra. I dunno, a pound or two? And chop up a tomato. Some take the skin off first but I'm too lazy for that. Put it all in the pot with a little water and salt and pepper, cover and let it cook on low (maybe 10-20 min) until it's just as soft as you like them. Ta daa!



Here's an actual recipe if you need it, since my instructions are pretty sparse. It calls for the liquid from the canned tomato, which I bet makes it quite tasty, tho since okra and tomatoes are in season at just exactly the same time, I figure, why not use a fresh tomato? Then again, your skins are already off. It's your call.

This is one of those few dishes that both my mom (Texas roots) and my dad (Louisiana roots) made for me when I was growing up. So no matter whose house I was at, in the late, hot summer, it was on the menu. Yum.

Anyone else super-excited about the Emmy's tonight? Go, Tina, go!