Peaches

I would now like to quote to you from The Presidents of the United States of America:

Peaches come from a can, they were put there by a man...Millions of peaches, peaches for me. Millions of peaches, peaches for free.

You're welcome for that.

I love peaches. I don't actually love that ridiculous song. Or even really like it, but it was very popular back in middle school. Sixth graders have very discerning taste in music.

According to a report I heard this summer on NPR, North Carolina had a booming crop of peaches this year. Without a late frost to kill the early blossoms, it was destined to be a bangin' summer for peaches. This report made me pretty excited so first I relayed the information to everyone I know and then I began frequenting the farmer's market in hopes of finding some peaches.

I love peaches. *sigh*

The big break came the weekend after I got back from Indiana. There they were; glorious, glorious, fuzzy, peachy peaches. Deeeee-light!

I then remembered that I hate peach skin. It's gross and furry and unpleasant on my tongue. I still love peaches, just not their furry exterior.

When Smitten Kitchen posted a recipe for peach shortbread, I knew it was destiny. I must make it. I must eat it. It will be delicious.

And it was.

You should totally make it, but then let it sit for a day. Because on day two of their life as peach shortbread bars, they come alive.

No seriously.

I bought peaches yesterday just so I could make them again. Yes, they're THAT good.