Standing at the kitchen sink, watching the skin peel away from a peach, I remembered my mother doing just this through my growing-up years.
My mother’s peaches were a work of art in a Mason jar. Their beauty and delectable taste rivaled the best blue ribbon awards at any County Fair.
She’d dip the fuzzy peaches in hot water for a few moments to allow easier removal of the skin without damaging the flesh. She always knew just how long each peach would take. It was important to her that the skins were removed with care, lacking any nicks, no signs of having been cooked, and without the dimpling...
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