Eating a peach

Okay, so it's not a Renoir portrait

Okay, so it’s not a Renoir portrait

Do I dare, and do I dare? Do I dare to eat a peach?

Yes I do!

I recently bought a peach from Abreeza’s Robinson’s Supermarket here in Davao. The stuff costs 700 a kilo, and this one fetched for over a hundred.

It’s my first peach!

Now before you in the peach-affluent part of the world start wondering why the fuss (hehe half pun) over a peach, you must understand that peaches hardly grow in tropical countries like the Philippines. As far as the Filipino is concerned, peaches grow in tin cans and come with syrup. Eating a peach for me is fulfilling one of my many long but completely pointless colonial-minded dreams.

Readers will also pardon my ignorance of such subtleties as the difference between a peach, a nectarine, and an apricot. I will venture to say that this thing I bought was a peach because its skin was slightly velvety, though not as velvety as a mabolo (but then again, I don’t know if you should be comparing peaches with mabolos). In any case, I ate the skin too!

So I cut open the thing, and contrary to what legends made me expect, I did not find a little boy who will one day slay demons (maybe because I wasn’t doing the laundry when I cut it). Instead I found a large pit, dark brown and itself quite velvety, with contours on its surface like a brain. After carving out this pit ala Hannibal Lecter, I sliced the remaining flesh into crescents and began my first adventure into Peach land!

 

No little boys there

No little boys there

Again, I will presume to be all knowing and dare to say that this peach was of the Asian variety. Texture-wise, it was somewhere between apples and watermelons, crunchy and juicy but without the apple’s woodiness or the watermelon’s annoying little abortions. It was sweet in a fruity kind of way. Most pleasantly, it had a distinct fragrance I had since then only known in peach-flavoured candies, perfumes, and shampoos.

In Chinese myth the gods eat peaches to maintain their immortality, and with my Shi Huangdi Complex I was understandably delusional as I ate the slices with my mother. Unfortunately I’m not Chinese. I didn’t have the consolation of thinking I looked like Saiunkoku’s Ryou Anju either, my hair is shorter now.

Peaches and cream!

Chinese Ambrosia and cream

Half the peach we ate, but the other half I chopped into fine little strips, mixed with whipped cream, sugar, and evaporated milk, then stored in the freezer overnight for some frozen peaches and cream (mixing with cream and freezing is becoming a standard trying method for fruits). I’ve always had peaches and cream with just the canned peaches, I was curious what fresh peaches tasted like with cream.

Without the syrup in canned peaches, it was understandably less sweet, and because preserved peaches are softer I found the crunchiness unfamiliar, but the peachy fragrance was much more felt with a fresh fruit.

So will I eat peaches again? Yes, but not for this price, perhaps if it were cheaper. And my family has always preferred tangy fruits over sweet ones, so I’m still curious what the western variety of peaches taste like.

But perhaps now the mermaids will sing for me?

Advertisements


Leave a Reply

Please log in using one of these methods to post your comment:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s