White Peach, Rose, & Basil Hand Pies (2024)

Sometimes I get thisresplendentfeeling. It starts in the pit of my stomach. I can feel it pressing against my ribs and radiating out of my finger tips. A coniferous forest rises up around me. It’s symphonic. These trees, they aren’t rising, they’re shooting up, dwarfing me. The canopy is closing rapidly, and the rays of sunlight are reduced to pinholes. Scarab beetles and snowshoe rabbits conspire in the underbrush.There is music here. A primal composition of every song ever written. Every blip, every snare, every haunting a capella. It’s played on quantum strings. It’s the vibration of the very fabric of reality and so lovely. The streets and houses that were once around me havedisintegratedand the milky way runs like a creek through the forest. There are faeries and strange little people with giant gems for eyes that I don’t entirely trust but seem to know ancient things about painsuppression. Magical beasts anddeities, many armed and fire breathing, play dice. There is math here and neurons too. There is no time. The universe and all it contains are one moment, one substance in this forest. I have no body, no fingers or toes or little belly. I’m not afraid to die or fall out of love or be mediocre. Those concepts don’t even make sense.

My heart feels swollen in my chest. I feel majestic, but the tick-tock of a blinker intrudes. Headlights. I’m driving. I’m driving a pick-up truck. I’m driving a pick-up truck because he moved in with me this weekend, moved in with his stacks of books and antique furniture and a piece of obsidian. I’m driving a pick-up truck back home, nowourhome, from Walgreens. It’s midnight. I bought a pint of cookies & cream for $1.29. We’re going to share it in bed and watch our favorite television show. The forest is gone, and I’m mortal again. And then, as my street comes back into focus, for a moment I feel as if I’ll become untethered and be flung clear off the face of the earth, a special case that gravity capriciously forsook. It doesn’t happen. I stay planted. We eat ice cream in bed. But you see, sometimes I lose my gravity. In a moment all of reality ripples and shimmers as if it were about to dissipate entirely, and then, just as quickly, it solidifies back into lawn, mailbox,ceilingfan, spoon.

This phenomena, if you will, is one of the many reasons I love to cook & bake. For me, baking pie is, in a sense, like holding on to clumps of dirt for dear life. It’s real. I’m real. You’re real. He & I are real, and I don’t need to be afraid. And as I slice into ripe fruit, as flour mushrooms out of the bag into my mixing bowl, as I shred basil leaves with my fingers, I am here, and it is now.

I realize that the season for peaches has all but passed like a sigh, but I made these in August and wanted to share them with you. If you’re quick you might be able to grab the last peaches of the season depending on where you live. And this was not the last summer on earth, unless of course you believe that this world will end come December, so when the market stalls are brimming with peaches again next summer, you’ll be glad to have this recipe tucked into your apron. Or back pocket. Or hat. Or wherever you do your tucking. I tuck my recipes into an old symbolic logic notebook. I don’t even wear an apron. I just mess up my clothes all the time. It’s senseless.

Print Recipe

The rose water in this pie filling compliments the floral notes of the white peaches and adds that certainje ne sais quoithat makes a dish feel special. It should be noted you can certainly use yellow peaches. Nectarines would be nice too. This can be easily adapted to make a full sized pie, just slice the peaches instead of dice them. While I’ve givenmeasurementsbelow, I usually just add the rose and honey to taste along with a healthy handful of basil. I often make it as a galette for a quick & easy dessert for impromptu dinner guests with dough I keep on hand in the freezer. Try it with some homemade cardamom ice cream & candied almonds. You’ll just die. It’s so good.