California Dreaming

As a part of my Baking and Pastry program at the Culinary Institute of America we were required to do an internship.  What would possess a native Upstate New Yorker to decide to do this in Napa, California?  That is actually a whole other story.  My time in California was strained by a continual homesickness but I could not let the opportunities to see and experience such a renowned region be wasted.  With upcoming classes in wines and spirits awaiting me when I returned to school, I headed out diligently to many of the fine wineries in the Napa Valley on my days away from work.  But the best thing about Napa was the long growing season allowing for delicious fresh produce everywhere you turned.

           

If I ever to decided to be a vegetarian, the Napa Valley is where I would want to reside.  I have always loved fresh fruit and vegetables in season but where I grew up those seasons are sometimes painfully short.  I believe in picking my own strawberries to assure that they are the best and would never buy sweet corn off from a stand if I couldn’t see it growing in field out back.  In California, I never met a vegetable I didn’t like.  There was a Farmer’s Market set up somewhere in the valley every day of the week and you would often see the area’s top chefs searching for ingredients for that day’s specials.  

             

I had the opportunity to try fruits and vegetables that I had never heard of and some I would have sworn I could never like.  And with the exception of the tomatoes I liked every one.  You need not think there is something wrong with the tomatoes in the Napa Valley, I just don’t like tomatoes (see the blog entry Learning to Like).  One of my favorite treats from California was the white peach.  White peaches have since found their way to the east coast but back then I had never heard of them, let alone eaten one. 

On my last day in California, I definitely had to have some white peaches for the road.

The peaches I purchased that day were the size of softballs, so sweet and the delicate juice ran down my arm as I bit through the giving fuzzy skin.  The flavor slightly more subtle than its cousin the yellow peach, the flesh perfectly soft but not mushy and the gush of juices with each bite is enough to give me a culinary flashback.  I have not had a white peach since that was that good and I hope that it wasn’t my last.  It might even be a good enough reason to plan a trip to Napa in July.  I kept the pit from a few of those peaches for the longest time and in my fantasies I would plant that pit and grow my own little piece of the California dream, my own loving, giving white peach tree.