Our first encounter with them came when we lived in Quebec back in '95 and '96 and toured the region extensively.
We drove down through the Niagara Falls area just as the orchards were being harvested. Pulled over one afternoon with a van full of stinky hot cranky travel weary kids to a roadside market stand and got out to watch, as between the rows an old tractor pulling a homemade wooden trailer came ppbbtt-putting over to where we were.
But leave them on the window sill to absorb some summer sun and they will be as sweet and drippy and delicious and memory-beckoning as you'd want.
This year I decided to bring that taste home with me to enjoy in the dreary frozen soul-deadening months of winter. Ok, winter's not actually that bad here in AZ but just go with me on this.
So I made freezer jam.
Lots. of freezer jam.
I left most of it in the freezer at the cottage just in case customs officials decided to abscond with my entire batch. But I brought home a few jars.
And believe me I was all ready to LIE through my teeth if that's what it would take to keep them.
Happily, it wasn't necessary.
I guess peach freezer jam isn't a threat to the nation's health and welfare.