Pickle Pusses

Melissa Webster

by Jesse Yancy
May 14, 2008

Some people consider the family a basic building block of society, an environment that nurtures civility and tolerance.

But we know better. Families are hotbeds of contention. If you’re lucky and manage to stay out of court, the strife is petty most of the time. And I do mean petty: Just last week I created a tempest in my genetic teapot over, of all things, pickled peaches.

We’d been having a carefree back-and-forth online discussion on our family Web site about a traditional Easter meal when I oh-so-casually mentioned that a cold plate featuring stuffed celery, trimmed green onions, black olives and pickled peaches always appeared on our table.

The pit hit the fan when a younger relative professed that she had no idea what pickled peaches are, much less what they taste like, and before stirring sideways, I was in a pickle myself for being a snooty old know-it-all.

Nothing could be further from the truth. It’s just that some people have a narrow view of pickling, which is simply a manner of preserving foods for a short period of time in a solution with a pH that prohibits bacterial growth. Usually the process involves salt and vinegar, but they pickled Alexander the Great’s body in a vat of honey (which has a very low pH), and you can use the same sweet process on things such as watermelon rinds, cucumbers and, yes, peaches.

What I call pickled peaches are whole, peeled cling peaches preserved in a sweet solution. Some people call them spiced peaches because most, if not all, recipes include clove and cinnamon. Come to think about it, this entire spat could have merely been the result of a contradiction in terms, but a couple of people still had a fit and fell off into it anyway, me being one, of course. What I found most irksome about the entire exchange was an insinuation that pickled peaches rank among those antique foods such as ambrosia that people serve out of duty instead of culinary appeal. All my “old fart” flags unfurled, and before you know it, I got a finger-waggin’ usually reserved for 6-year-olds who get caught using Mom’s sport bra for a lawn swing.

Granted, peaches aren’t among the essential pickled items you should have on hand at any given moment. A jar of kosher dills (whole; you can always slice them as you like or need), some good homemade bread-and-butters and a small jar of sweet relish comprise the utter basics of my pickle pantry, but I do keep chow-chow, kim chee and pickled eggs as well as one of those pretty little octagonal jars of cauliflower and red peppers that look so much better than they taste. Then I have sport peppers flavoring vinegar for greens and peas.

Even though they are available year-round, most people (me included) keep pickled peaches only during the holiday season, serving them on a cold plate with other raw or preserved vegetables. But they deserve a more diverse role on the table. They’re great with ham at any time of the year, and some people cook with them as you would any canned peach, using them in cobblers, cakes or ice cream for a spicy kick.

Now, had I posted such a recitation of information as this, it would have worked to my disadvantage. There’s a distinct possibility that some members might have viewed it as evidence that, my salad days being over, I’m getting my just desserts, going all out for spiced peaches because God knows I cannot afford that Corvette I’ve always wanted.

Rest assured that my defense of pickled peaches has no relation to what I fervently hope are merely the first pangs of a prolonged mid-life crisis. Spiced peaches need no advocate. Wherever peaches are grown, people will take firm young cling peaches like the ones appearing in local markets now, peel them, mull them in a sweet, spicy mixture and put them up for another day.

Me, I think I might just post my recipe for pot roast and see what happens; somebody’s bound to have a problem with that.

 
posted by on 05/14/08 at 06:59 PM. [printer-friendly version]