Frozen Joy 🍑
Summer’s roseate pearls, churned to peach perfection
By
Two backroads evoke sweet memories: Highway 23 in South Carolina and Old U.S. 1 north from Camden, South Carolina, into North Carolina. Along these routes grow peach orchards, row after row of small, truncated trees. They bring to mind trees with crowns pruned to accommodate power lines. There’s a reason for it. Men prune peach trees into a bowl so sunlight can ripen peaches in the interior.
To achieve peach perfection orchard workers deal with frosts, prune trees, keep irrigation systems flowing, and—when the sun shines hottest—pick peaches. I ask you. Is there anything more symbolic of the sun than a ripe peach? A roadside stand’s split-oak baskets hold galaxies. And heaped up peaches in an indigo bowl is a thing of beauty. Velvety, rosy peaches hold the colors of sunrise and sunset.
When ready for harvest, fingers deft as minnows pluck those roseate pearls. The recolector de duraznos lives by a cardinal rule. Never bruise a peach. A gentle squeeze tells all. The peach feels like a baseball. Do not pick. It feels like a tennis ball. Wait a few days. The peach gives. Almost. Rosy red and yellow, and feels just so. Recogerlo.
The magic unfolds over the seasons. Autumn’s darkening, cooling days force trees into dormancy, and yet a peach orchard in autumn is a sight to behold. You’ll see reddish-brown leaves beneath a blue sky and white clouds. Soon, winter puts the trees to sleep. Beware of deception. In winter’s cold heart an orchard’s naked limbs cast a pink glow—but focus on a single bough, and it’s brown.
Days lengthen; days warm, and orchards go about the business of growing peaches. Green solar collectors emerge—leaves extend from flower buds that slowly open to reveal fragrant pink flowers that blanket limbs. Here come the pollinators. Peach formation occurs around ten days after the tree blooms.
A ritual of mine is to get up in March pre-dawn darkness and drive Highway 23 to the Ridge where daybreak throws golden light onto clouds of pink and coral blossoms. I walk through fallen flakes of peppermint; no, it’s as if kaleidoscopes of pink butterflies just touched down on their journey to this place rich with flowers.
Now it’s June. Once again I drive Highway 23 to the Ridge. I note the formation of peaches, just as I see them in orchards on U.S. 1. Wherever I see peach orchards, memories from summers in Georgia rise. Living just across the border as they did, my parents made summer trips to the Ridge to get fresh peaches for ice cream and pies. They left me a kind of inheritance: sun-struck colors, golden-crusted peach cobblers, orchards aglow with delicate pink blossoms, and childhood memories of peach ice cream.
A conspicuous void punches a hole in those memories—a peach pie cooling in the sill of a window. That’s a sight I’ve yet to behold, but I retain sweet memories of peach ice cream. Not the kind that comes in a fancy cardboard container. No, peach ice cream from an old cedar churn. My parents blended their favorite peach ice cream recipe to perfection, poured it into a steel canister, and placed it in a vintage cedar churn. Dad tumbled in a bag of ice and salted it good with a box of Morton Ice Cream Salt.
A boy I remember quite well cranked the churn. He cranked it and cranked it until it slowed, then halted as creamy peach ice cream oozed from beneath the canister’s lid. Then he and his sisters and parents faced a painful experience they could not avoid.
All that frozen joy led to … Brain freeze.
You better believe the pain was worth it.
“I am endeavoring to make a collection of the choicest kinds of peaches for Monticello.”
—Thomas Jefferson to Richard Threlkeld, March 26, 1807
John Mitchell’s Peach Ice Cream
Intro by Elizabeth Poland Shugg
Recipe submitted by Debra Poland
There’s nothing like the fresh taste of peach ice cream. My grandfather made it for us every summer, and my aunt has preserved his recipe. Here it is for you to enjoy.
Ingredients
¾ gallon of whole milk
1 quart of half and half
2 small cans of sweetened condensed milk
6 fresh peaches cut into small bites (or 1 large can of peaches)
1–1½ cups of sugar if you use fresh peaches*
*This is the recommended amount of sugar to add if you’re using fresh peaches.
Directions
Mix all liquids (including the peach syrup from the can, if you use canned peaches), then stir in the sugar and sweetened condensed milk. Fold in the peaches.
Put the ice cream canister in the churn. Pack the churn with ice and rock salt. Crank the churn to rotate the dasher until the cream freezes.
We hope you’re enjoying our weekly newsletter and that you always remember to … Take the long way home.
Delicious reading! Love peach ice cream and cobbler!
Delicious juicy peaches. Nothing better!