Culinary, Arts, Thread.

#6,812
#6,812
volfanbill said:
Peaches have to be jjjjuuuuuussssssttttt right, or they’re kinda bleh. Juuuuuuuuussssssttttt right ones though, they are amaze balls.
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I can agree to this, except for the amaze balls part, Idkwtf that means but I'm assuming it means good.
 
#6,813
#6,813
Behr said:
We agree on that!

I like them, fresh ones, but they just aight. I will say because I'm a huge blackberry fan that does look good. Really good.
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I like blackberries and raspberries also. Peaches, not so much. I can tolerate a fresh one, but when I think of them, it’s always from a nasty slimy can. Just gross.
 
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#6,814
#6,814
No doubt they have to be just right. I have specific peaches l like and the timing has to be right.

They are my favorite, but a contributing factor is childhood memories. I remember going to my Great Aunt’s House in south Bama. After we had been there a while she said, well, I guess I will make a pie.

She went to the backyard, picked the peaches and made peach cobbler.
 
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#6,816
#6,816
Although I can't eat fresh peaches anymore, i always LOVED white peaches moreso than the traditional peach.
 
#6,818
#6,818
NorCalVol67 said:
No doubt they have to be just right. I have specific peaches l like and the timing has to be right.

They are my favorite, but a contributing factor is childhood memories. I remember going to my Great Aunt’s House in south Bama. After we had been there a while she said, well, I guess I will make a pie.

She went to the backyard, picked the peaches and made peach cobbler.
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If I eat a fresh one, it’s a Georgia White, only.
 
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#6,819
#6,819
Souce said:
Have you ever had a fresh Georgia peach at the peak of its ripeness?
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Yessir. My parents are originally from Georgia and I had two sets of aunts and uncles that lived there.

Cool story Bro time. I'll make as short as possible.

My uncle Jack, in Georgia, raised English Setter hunting dogs. When I was 8 we went to get one of the pups. When we got there it had been raining and the puppy Jack saved for my dad was covered in that Georgia red clay. We named him Redclay.

He was a big part of my family until I was 18. Mom and Dad divorced and Redclay disappeared. We lived on a 500 acre farm and we assumed he got killed by coyotes or something. He was old and about to die anyway. 12 years later I found out what happened to him. But that's part of the story you Prolly don't wanna hear.

Anyway, I still use Redclay for passwords.
 
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