This is the peach cobbler I made today.
I know I probably shouldn’t have. My Mama would have gotten up extra early to bake it or not made one at all. And to be honest, I did feel guilty using the oven in the middle of the day. It doesn’t heat the house like the oven we had growing up, but it does warm the kitchen up a bit.
I have peaches in the freezer. More than I should have this time of year. It’s peach season again, and even though I don’t eat a peach fresh from the orchard before July 1 (my Daddy taught me that), I have way more bags of peaches in the freezer than I should, with just a little over a month left before I start peeling and slicing and freezing again.
So a cobbler it was. Surprised the whole family. The Fella who was off today, Aub who didn’t have to work until later, and the littles who spent much of their day playing outside with friends. Miss Sophie may be the only one who noticed the smell of it baking, and well, poor thing, she was not getting any of it.
Cooter was the last one to have a helping of it. He was out when the others had theirs this afternoon. When he came in, I asked him if he wanted some, and he just about fell, tripping over himself to get into the kitchen. He is my Georgia boy. Once a few years ago, I served him the peaches from a can. He took a bite, made a face, and asked me just what on earth THAT was. I’ve never served them since. He’s right. There’s just no comparing those with the fresh.
Cooter started drooling immediately. His line of sight was where he could just barely see the cobbler in the dish, cooling on the stovetop. “Oh Mama, is this as good as the cobbler at Side Tracks?”
Ah. The buffet I took him to after signing the papers to let go of my Great Aunt’s house. The one where, when my little guy saw all the desserts at the end of the line of “real food” which had disappointed him so, he turned to me with the biggest eyes ever and said, “What’s thaaaat?”
I let him pick out his own chocolate cake and later got him a small taste of the banana pudding (made from scratch with meringue–oh my stars) and the peach cobbler. His praise for their peach cobbler was, “Mama, this is almost as good as yours.”
As he oohed and ahhed over his peach cobbler today, he talked about how much he wants to go back to Side Tracks for *ahem* lunch. (Yeah, that’s what you want to eat there, buddy.)
Then out of the blue, as he all but licked his bowl clean, he said, “The food there is so awesome. Well, that and the architecture. I’d like to see that again too.”
He’s something, that one. He makes me laugh everyday, and I am often amazed at the words and thoughts that come from his seven-year old mind. But architecture? Okay, yeah. I see what you’re doing, bud. Trying to go for the education angle as well.
My child knows how to get to me.
And he knows what he wants in life–he doesn’t mind telling you either. When we were walking into the attorney’s office two weeks ago, I took his hand, told him I might cry a bit, and asked if he would be okay holding my hand. He looked up at me and said, “Mama, I’m just here to go out for lunch. That’s it.” I should have known why he’d chosen to come with me instead of staying home with his sisters when, as we drove through Hawkinsville on our way there, he started scoping out lunch places. “I don’t see a Krystal’s though.” Y’all know that’s his yardstick by which all others are measured, right?
Tonight I’m thankful for the joy of surprising my family and for the abundance of peaches in my freezer. I give thanks for many happy memories of sitting around the table with my Mama, Daddy, and siblings putting peaches up every summer. It’s what our people do. And I’m thankful for a funny little fella who loves his Mama’s cooking and loves the desserts at a buffet even more. And will try every way he can think of to convince his Mama to go back.
Love and wishes for an unexpected sweet surprise to all.