Peachy Keen

One of my most loved New York experiences is the Union Square Farmers Market.

I’ll be its girl for all seasons… but my favorite is autumn.

The air is just as crisp as the apples, and the smell of cider holds me close to the stalls – just beyond the tentacular clutches of DSW on East 14^th.

Michelle Pfeiffer: another girl for all seasons.
In addition to the farmers market, I'm also unabashedly in love with Grease 2.
Thanks, Paramount!

Long before locavores roamed the Western Plains, New Yorkers mingled with some of the world’s best chefs, buying fruits and veggies straight off the truck. Freshly baked bread and newly cut bouquets sweetened the allure of the market, but, for me, the Empire State’s apples were the best produce in the Big Apple.

Don't you want to stop and smell the flowers?
via Travel and Leisure

Now that I’m living in a traditionally farmer-friendly area – seriously, I pass, like, four front-yard tomato stands on the way home from work – I like to eat what the locals are growing.

And they’re growing the best peaches I’ve ever had.

I know. Try to contain your surprise. Amazing peaches in Georgia?! Not exactly unheard of.

But while I’ve loved Georgia peaches in the past, I’ve never loved them for so long. This is not a vacation’s worth of peaches – this is all summer, every day, sometimes two or more per day.

This is me sitting at work, anxious to get home and eat my peaches.

Now, you may be wondering why I don’t just travel with my peaches – why, for example, I don’t just eat one at my desk.

I’ll tell you: the chin-dribbling juice is unbecoming for a girl trying to make a good impression.

So, I wait. And the clock ticks slowly till it’s time to jump in the Jeep, speed past the tomato stands, burst through the door, and wash my peaches.

I can't believe I put it down long enough to take this picture.

I eat standing over the sink, my chin jutting as far from my neck as possible, as the juice gives my face more than a passing resemblance to my toddler’s at mealtime.

But, mess be dadgummed, that gosh-durned fruit is too damn good.

Seems the peach is my new apple… in more ways than one.