Fresh Peach Pie — The Slices We Eat Standing at the Counter

The last weeks of Marcus's junior year are winding down, and I am watching the clock and trying not to, which is like trying not to breathe — you can manage it for a moment but the body insists on doing what the body does. He has finals next week. He studies at the kitchen table every evening, surrounded by textbooks and notebooks and the particular intensity of a seventeen-year-old who has something to prove and somewhere to go. I cook around him. I serve him dinner at his study station. I bring him sweet tea without being asked because a mother who waits to be asked is a mother who is not paying attention, and I am always paying attention.

This was also the week I started my summer canning plan. The garden is producing more than we can eat, which is the goal, because the surplus is what gets canned and preserved and stored in the pantry for winter, when the garden is sleeping and the kitchen needs the jars it saved in June. I made a batch of bread-and-butter pickles from the cucumbers that came in this week — sweet, tangy, with turmeric and mustard seed and the satisfying snap of a cucumber that was on the vine yesterday and in the jar today. Canning is time travel. You preserve the summer in glass and open it in January and suddenly it is July in your kitchen, warm and abundant and smelling like vinegar and possibility.

Destiny finished her sophomore year at UAB. She is coming home next week for the summer, which means my kitchen will gain another set of hands and another mouth, both of which I need. I told her to bring her appetite and her laundry and leave the stress at school, though I know she will bring the stress too because Destiny carries other people's pain the way I carry groceries — in both arms, stacked too high, refusing to make two trips. She gets that from me. I get it from Mama. The women in this family carry.

Calvin and I had a conversation Thursday night about Marcus leaving for the summer program at Tuskegee in July. It was not a long conversation. It did not need to be. He said she will be okay. He was talking to me about me. I said I know. He said she will not be okay. He was also talking to me about me. I said I know that too. He held my hand. We sat in the kitchen with the lights off and the sounds of the neighborhood coming through the open window, and we held hands, and the holding was enough.

Made a fresh peach pie from the early peaches at the farmers market — freestone peaches, sweet and juicy, the kind that stain your hands pink and your heart wide open. The pie was simple: peaches, sugar, cinnamon, a little flour to thicken, and a butter crust that Mama would approve of. I served it warm with vanilla ice cream and Marcus ate two slices and Calvin ate one and I ate my slice standing at the counter, which is where all the best slices are eaten.

Some nights ask for something tender and unhurried, and the peach pie I made that week was exactly that—a way of putting my hands to work when my heart didn’t know what else to do with itself. Those early freestone peaches from the farmers market were too good not to bake with, and baking felt like the right response to a kitchen that had already held so much that Thursday night. Here’s how I made it.

Fresh Peach Pie

Prep Time: 30 min | Cook Time: 55 min | Total Time: 1 hr 25 min | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• For the butter crust (double crust):
• 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 1 tablespoon granulated sugar
• 1 teaspoon fine salt
• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter, cold and cut into 1/2-inch cubes
• 6–8 tablespoons ice water
• For the peach filling:
• 3 1/2 pounds ripe freestone peaches (about 7–8 medium), peeled, pitted, and sliced 1/3-inch thick
• 3/4 cup granulated sugar, plus more for sprinkling
• 3 tablespoons all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
• 2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
• 1 egg, beaten (for egg wash)

Instructions

1. Make the crust. Whisk together the flour, sugar, and salt in a large bowl. Add the cold butter and work it in with your fingertips or a pastry cutter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs with some pea-size pieces remaining. Add ice water one tablespoon at a time, mixing gently with a fork, until the dough just comes together. Divide into two equal discs, wrap in plastic, and refrigerate for at least 1 hour.
2. Preheat the oven. Set your oven to 425°F. Place a rimmed baking sheet on the lowest rack to catch drips.
3. Prepare the filling. Combine the sliced peaches, sugar, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, and lemon juice in a large bowl. Toss gently to coat. Let the mixture sit for 10 minutes so the peaches release some of their juice and the sugar begins to dissolve.
4. Roll out the bottom crust. On a lightly floured surface, roll one disc of dough into a 12-inch circle. Fit it into a 9-inch pie dish, letting the excess hang over the edge. Refrigerate while you roll the top crust.
5. Fill the pie. Pour the peach filling into the prepared crust, mounding it slightly in the center. Dot the top of the filling with the small pieces of butter.
6. Add the top crust. Roll the second disc into a 12-inch circle. Lay it over the filling. Trim both crusts to a 1-inch overhang, fold the edge under, and crimp firmly all the way around. Cut 5 or 6 small vents in the top crust. Brush with beaten egg and sprinkle lightly with sugar.
7. Bake. Bake at 425°F for 20 minutes, then reduce the oven temperature to 375°F and bake for an additional 35–40 minutes, until the crust is deep golden brown and the filling is bubbling through the vents. If the crust edges brown too quickly, tent them loosely with foil.
8. Cool before cutting. Let the pie rest on a wire rack for at least 1 hour before slicing. The filling will set as it cools. Serve warm with vanilla ice cream. Eat your own slice standing at the counter if that’s where you end up — it counts.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 430 | Protein: 5g | Fat: 22g | Carbs: 56g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 210mg