A just peachy start to 2023

Last week was just peachy - in more ways than one - and yes, as I explain, I also mean it sarcastically.

Peachy - with the real ones is how 2022 ended and 2023 began. At the last market of the year, on New Year's Eve, Cecil comes haring over to The Husband. A little while later, they head off. When they return, the gist of the conversation -

Would you like a crate of peaches? There's a bakkie load there and, Cecil says they're mostly there for the taking. And better to buy from them than from him - it'll cost you more.

Umm...

I had to think about it: it was New Year's Eve and by the time we got home from the market and had packed and tidied everything up, it would be after 1pm. Too late to start cooking. Especially as we had to be somewhere by 6pm.

Also, I like to buy from Cecil: I know that selling fruit and vegetables has a lot to do with how he ekes out a living. And we were expecting The Husband's sister for lunch on New Year's day, so jammin' about with peaches wasn't an option. Then I figured that even if I couldn't deal with them, and some of them rotted ended up in our compost heap, the price, and what I could save, would make it worth it.

I am under no illusion about the quality of the fruit that arrives under these circumstances: it's already been deviated from the ultimate destination - the packing shed, cold store, factory and/or export. It's often bruised and has other physical damage as part of the picking process.

Debate with self, concluded, I answer -

Yes please, but we have to make a plan because we've no crate.

Make a plan we did.

This is my "bread basket" of peaches. It's an old, tape-up laundry basket that's does a great job of transporting rolls and bread to the market.

I knew that whatever happened, in the next week, I had to liberate it to fill it for the next market's bread.

The first "attack"

Monday, day two of the year was a public holiday, but not for me. I knew I had to attack the peaches. First up was jam. Chutney was also on the agenda but as the peach "delivery" had not been scheduled, I didn't have enough of two essential ingredients - ginger or vinegar - in the pantry.

I knew I had to start processing the peaches: we don't have enough fridge space for them and we were in the midst of a heatwave. They were going to already spoiling.

At the end of Monday, I had processed 3,5kgs of peaches and stashed it in jars. The other peaches had to wait: Tuesday demanded that I be in the office - I have projects that didn't stop over the festive season. I had a meeting, and was scheduled to wind things up with a client whose contract had ended. I had to work out when it would be "safe" to schedule time in my other office in the kitchen.

The second third next attack

As things unfolded in my other job, I was able to schedule Thursday morning to finally despatch the peaches. I headed into the kitchen at 7.30 am. Mercifully, after days of 35+°C heat, it was a cool day.

But

As I unlocked the doors on to our stoep, I looked over at our shed and noticed that there was a window pane missing.

Instantly, I knew what had happened: there'd been a break-in. I also knew what would be gone: as a minimum. All The Husband's power tools. I unlocked the door, and sure enough, all five of them were gone.

Just peachy.

It's his turf. I don't know what's there or what else was not. Needless to say, The Husband hurtled out of bed, downstairs and then called the police.

With nothing else to do but wait, I set about addressing what was on my agenda: peaches that had definitely suffered from the heat - and chutney. In between all that, cups of coffee and cake for the very nice duty sergeant - on his first day at work - as he sat at our dining room table taking The Husband's statement. A chat with the detective who arrived half an hour after Sergeant left. All before 9am. And then a wait. Until 5.30 pm for the forensics officer to not find any finger prints.

It's a shed...

To add insult to injury, the only thing that would have yielded finger prints was the pane of glass. Which. They. Also. Stole. The wooden beading was discarded as they fled. It'll be used to anchor the new glass. And yes, there will be bars.

Still productive

I had set out to make peach chutney, and at least I managed that. Oh, and a batch of chilli jam, one of my other best sellers.

A peachy favourite

I admit that of the two chutneys I make, and of many chutneys I've eaten, my peach chutney is my favourite. It's also my most popular. If you'd like the now very tried and trusted recipe, you'll find it here.

Even more peachy

On Sunday morning, as we were finishing our ritual brunch (the first in weeks, it felt like), there was a yell from the gate. On investigation, it was the local motor mechanic. Himself a former policeman (and character of note).

Hello! I've got some of your stuff!

He had, it turned out. One of the village skelms had tried to sell him The Husband's drill and jigsaw. The Husband not only recognised them but confirmed that the cords were still wrapped around them in exactly the same way as he usually does.

He says he has the angle grinder. I've told him to bring it.

We're still waiting and don't know whether or not to hope. If that and the other two items return, life really would be just a bit more peachy.

Until next time, be well
Fiona
The Sandbag House
McGregor, South Africa

Photo: Selma
Post script

If this post might seem familiar, it's because I'm doing two things:

• re-vamping old recipes. As I do this, I am adding them in a file format that you can download and print. If you download recipes, buy me a coffee. Or better yet, a glass of wine....?
• and "re-capturing" nearly two years' worth of posts.

I blog to the Hive blockchain using a number of decentralised appplications.

• From Wordpress, I use the Exxp Wordpress plugin. If this rocks your socks, click here or on on the image below to sign up.

• Join Hive using this link and then join us in the Silver Bloggers' community.

Original artwork: @artywink

• lastly, graphics are created using partly my own photographs, images available freely available on @hive.blog and Canva.

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