Millions of Peaches. Or Parcels.

I have caught the bug of online ordering. Not that I do a lot, but every now and then there is something, some ingredient or some pan or tool, that I can’t find locally that I end up ordering online. I always have whatever I’ve ordered sent to the office instead of the house, so there is no waiting around for a convenient time to take the delivery notice to the post office to pick up my package.

So far I’ve ordered vanilla pulp (twice!), a cookie cutter, a set of cookie stamps, some edible silver pearl dust for an upcoming wedding cake and some books.

After years of getting the same out-of-print book from the library every summer (yes, I’ve copied some of it but it isn’t the same), I’ve decided it was high time to buy a used copy for myself.

The book in question is a cookbook – what, me, a cookbook? I bet you’re totally surprised – called Canadian Country Preserves by Blanche Pownall-Garett. It is the book I get my recipe for spiced peaches*. A recipe that has the highest PIA factor of anything I do, including puff pastry and such. It takes DAYS. And I’m making some this summer. Just for me and those I love – it would be impossible to sell, the price I’d have to charge to cover the effort would make it un-sellable.

I really enjoy the book because she not only does she have recipes and pictures for the usual things like crab apples and peaches, but there is a host of things that grow wild that one never sees in stores. I’ll be in BC in August this year, so my hope is that the book arrives before I leave (I’m gone in three weeks). Then I can take it with me and look for island hidden treasures.

Since I was ordering one book anyway, I went ahead and got another book of scented poetry. I’d wax on about that too but I don’t know any other poetry readers. I know they’re out there, I just don’t know any.

*Spiced Peaches are an eight day task, but one ends up with sweet/sharp slippery cool peaches that are the BESTEST accompaniment to Curry. Or any other Indian food for that matter. One tends to question one’s sanity during the making, but during the eating it all becomes clear. You suffer during the making to enjoy the result. I haven’t made it in ten years, but this is the summer. No excuses!