I am astounded by the bounty here in Hungary. It is as though the earth, the farmers and orchard keepers have a little secret. None of it is GMO. They kicked out Monsanto. Well, that is what they say; I have not researched it thoroughly. There is even a Hungarian Melon Cartel, I shit you not (more on that later).
The local supermarket chain COOP in town is selling perfect peaches at 45 cents a pound. FORTY-FIVE CENTS A POUND; I KNOW RIGHT? I tried one and it was pretty perfect. I have an advantage in that I do not have to shop for peaches or apricots at the market. I have four peach trees to choose from, and the boughs are laden. I am just outside of the city in a village called Érd. It is famous for its peaches–world famous. The Érd Barack (barack is pronounced baratsk; the sound is similar to the “o” in often.) I could write endless blogs on Hungarian language, but I am afraid I would get lost, as many a sane soul has.
We have made compotes, ice cream, twenty-seven jars of jam, grilled them with savory spices. Jarring is next, and when I need a break from all that, I just walk into the garden shirtless, pick a peach and have it explode juice everywhere. My grandfather used to say the only way to really eat a mango was in the bath tub. Ditto on these peaches. I will spare you images of me eating peaches in the bath tub. You are welcome.
I am in peach heaven.
Happy Summer Days to All
TMI with TIM 
Yum! Japanese peaches are horribly expensive and don’t even taste very good. The tree in the garden isn’t ready to make babies yet. Eat a couple for me!