Roasted Peaches: A Guilty Pleasure

by Fresh and Frugal

Last night was rough. I mean, really rough. It all started at 6pm with my god-forsaken neighbors downstairs and their complete misunderstanding of ‘quiet weekend bbq’. It began with a phone call delivered in that grating Philadelphia/Jersey accent that makes me want to gnash my teeth and utter animalistic, threatening noises. Seeing as how it was one of the first lovely days in what must be months by now, there wasn’t a snowball’s chance in you-know-where that I was going to shut my windows and turn on the a/c (especially considering how often I’ve been running my oven lately!). Suffice it to say that by 8:00pm, my apartment was filled with a gruesome smoke, stinking of charred dead animal. My smoke detector actually went off around 10.

It was easily 2am before I could finally fall asleep after numerous “shhhh!”s and “DO YOU MIND KEEPING IT DOWN A LITTLE?!”s. Banging on their door did nothing, since they couldn’t hear it over the boom-boom music (which I can feel vibrating up my legs from the floor). It’s stupid, I know, but under no circumstances do I want to call and make a formal complaint with the… well, whoever I call to complain about that stuff. It’s not 911 is it? I don’t know how else to get a hold of the police. Either way, I’m open for suggestions with how to deal with these… “neighbors.”

My point is simply that I’ve been in a rotten mood all day, tired, and not really into thinking about what I’m going to make for dinner, even though I already know (SPOILER ALERT! Stuffed eggplant). Anyway. What always makes me a little happier? Pie! But I don’t feel like rolling out the dough and measuring and… the next best thing is certainly something that I made up on the spot for my mom, while waiting for the bus last week.

Digging two peaches out of the fridge from last week, I halved them and put a spoonful of brown sugar and a little piece of butter on top of each (to keep them from pruning up). What emerged from the oven 20 minutes later is how I always imagined the hot, sticky end of summer tasting: warm, honeyed, just a touch sweeter than the tart strawberries to which our taste buds had become accustomed. There is nothing crunchy, only the smooth and almost heady sweetness of summer. I am in a much better mood, now.

Roasted Peaches

2 small peaches

4 teaspoons brown sugar

1 tsp butter (I like salted, but I’m just like that)

Preheat to 350.

Wash and slice the peaches in half. Twist apart, then remove the stone from whichever side it clung to. Discard the stones, and place on a foil-lined baking sheet.

Spoon a bit of brown sugar into the cavity in each peach, then top with a little nub of butter (about 1/4 tsp), and bake for 20 minutes, or until the very edges of the skin around the peach begin to curl inward.