A few years ago I did a century ride (100 miles on bicycle) around the North Fork of Long Island with Brad and some other friends. It was August, and we spent the day circling farms and orchards. I saw fields of peach trees, so heavy with fruit the branches were practically on the ground. Every time we stopped at a support station, no matter the food and drinks they were offering for fuel, there were always boxes of ripe, juicy peaches. They were so delicious I couldn’t help myself. I would eat 1 or 2 of them before moving on, and still had a few more at the after party. Maybe it was all the cycling and my ravenous appetite, but those peaches were irresistible and I think I ate 7 or 8 of them that day.

All summer long I buy peaches from the greenmarket. Yellow peaches, white peaches, and for a few weeks each season, those sweet little doughnut peaches. I’ve pledged allegiance to a certain orchard at our market, but during peach season, I like to taste my way around the peaches and always give extra consideration to the New Jersey farms. Along with other greats from the state, like Taylor Ham and yours truly, we all know Jersey has some fine peaches.

Every week, as I’m surveying the fruit, people walk up and start picking the peaches up, squeezing them, and putting them back. This makes my blood boil. Peaches are delicate fruit! Don’t squeeze the peaches! And every time I want to turn to that person and say, “You know you’re just bruising the peaches, right?” But I never do, instead I just rant to Brad about how I wish people would stop squeezing the damn peaches. And the next day, when I walk by my bowl of once perfect peaches and see them covered in little brown bruises the size of thumb prints, I get mad all over again.

So maybe now you’re wondering, how do I know if the peaches are ripe and good for eating? Smell them! Give those soft fuzzy peaches a good sniff and if they smell sweet and peachy, they’re gonna taste that way too. If you like to determine whether your peach is ready for eating based on the firmness of the fruit, do that to your own peaches, not mine. And if you must squeeze the peaches, gently cup them, like you would a boob, and apply light, even pressure.

And now for a recipe. A few weeks ago I found myself staring into the fridge, where a bowl of super ripe, sweet, juicy peaches was staring back at me. I had planned to make some cobbler or maybe ice cream with them, but it was too hot for any of this. And so, there they were, and it was almost cocktail hour. So I cut up those peaches, tossed them in the freezer, and a few hours later I sent Brad into the kitchen to blend up the best peach daiquiris I have ever tasted.

Ahhh, peaches. The perfect thing to toast to on a hot summer day.