A Peach Cobbler Trip (and Fall) Down Memory Lane

I love peaches, especially when they are in season and have reached peak ripeness. Nothing compares to the sticky, sweet sensation of eating a perfectly ripe peach. And now that I live in Georgia, I acknowledge it’s one of the upsides.

One of the earliest memories that likely shaped my love for peaches is my Grandma Pierce's peach cobbler. Most summers included spending a few weeks with my Grandma and Grandpa Pierce at their home in Decatur, Mississippi. It’s one of those small one-stoplight towns you’d never visit unless you had family there—and their house was another 30 minutes of driving outside of town on a windy dirt road. It was as southern as southern country gets. We’d pull up after a long drive, and I remember walking into their house and being overwhelmed by the delicious smells coming from the kitchen. And I distinctly remember the peach cobbler – still warm and waiting to be devoured.

As I was putting together my list of 50 things, I decided to finally make tracking down my grandma’s peach cobbler recipe a priority…and continue the tradition of sharing this taste sensation with my own loved ones. So, when I visited my parents in Boise this past summer, my plan was to share this dream with my mom, who would locate said recipe, and we would make it together. You can imagine my surprise and confusion when my mom shook her head and said she didn’t remember Grandma Pierce ever making peach cobbler. It was actually blackberry cobbler that she was known for making. Come again?!? I wasn’t convinced that my memory had failed me. It was so vivid. I can actually still taste it in my mind. So, I reached out to my Aunt Margaret, who confirmed that Grandma Pierce was known for her blackberry cobbler…and she didn’t know of a peach cobbler recipe that Grandma had ever made. Ugh! Okay…so I will either make the best peach cobbler recipe I can find doing my own research or make my Grandma’s famous blackberry cobbler recipe (which I now have). I’m leaning towards the former – as I’m not that sentimental and really just like peaches. Either way…I’ll have to wait until next year when they are in season. And so much for the memory. Talk about a testament to the signs of aging. How many other “vivid memories” do I have that aren’t “real”?