It is supposedly peach season. I have waited all year for this season, choking down unripe bananas and apple after apple after apple, biding my time for the perfect peach. That time is now.
But in the past week, I have bought four yellow peaches from three fancy-assed grocery stores and one fancy-assed farmers market, and all of them have been disappointing—crunchy, or worse, mealy.
WHERE ARE ALL THE DELICIOUS PEACHES NATURE HAS PROMISED ME???
Do not tell me to drive to eastern Washington. That isn't going to happen. I need a fresh peach I can walk to. I need a fresh peach I can stomach. I need a fresh peach with a money-back guarantee not to be goddamn mealy.
If you have a secret peach-buying store in town, or if there's some trick to sniffing out ripe peaches that I don't know about, please, please, please let me know. I cannot stomach another banana.