Peach season is just starting here in the mid-atlantic, and oh how I love it! There's nothing like a good perfectly ripe peach, with it's velvety skin, tender flesh and sweet-tangy juice. But I am a bit of a peach-fusspot, I will only eat a peach when it is perfectly perfectly ripe. My husband and sons laugh at this, they don't mind chawing at a rubbery unripe lump, or slurping up a peach with deteriorating flesh-quality. Their random grabs at the fruit basket leave me frustrated, as I may be waiting with eagerness for a peach to get to the perfect pitch and before it is quite there, maybe it is even close, wham...they've gone ahead and eaten it. Or they'll crunch up a bunch of very unripe ones, leaving a batch of ripe ones...half of which will "turn" before I can attend to them. Okay, yeah, fussy fussy fussy. I know. And I don't really care.
Let's see if this signage helps! ;-) Anything goes in my pursuit of the perfect peach!