I never had a good sense of timing, which is something you absolutely need if you’re going to be boiling things long enough for them to become tasty, but not so long that they spill over and cover your legs in molten flavor-lava.
Yes, I can usually manage to put something in the oven and stir a couple things on the stove, and get them out before the smoke alarm goes off. But actually getting things to the table, looking edible, and at the same time is tough. Because of that, I don’t always succeed. In my head, “get the damn food cooked” beats out “oh no, they’ll have to wait for the freaking radicchio for another 15 minutes” every time. The food’s going down your throat; who cares when you get it?
Unfortunately for me, this tends to screw me over in the recipe-writing department too. Which is why, on this gloriously crisp and other-fall-adjective-y day near the end of September, I’m doing a recipe that unequivocally belongs in the summer pantheon of desserts. And again, because I care more about what’s going in my mouth than when, you fine people are just gonna have to put on a straw hat and pretend it’s a different month. Guess I’d rather be a good chef than a good writer.
The timing’s also bad because my oven died on me and the only recipe I had was uncomfortably similar to last week’s, but I’m just gonna ignore that and hope you all really like things that resemble peaches. And crumble. Lots of crumble.
—Fresh Beats, Fresh Eats
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