Fruit Slinger

We have donut peaches.

Well, we had them. For about five minutes this morning.

Donut peaches are also called Saturn peaches, a fitting name for their otherworldly shape. You would be forgiven if out of skepticism you dismissed the donut peach as a gimmick.

I mean, of course it's a gimmick. But it's also a fine white peach.

In general, I'm not a fan of white peaches. Yes, they're sweet. But the lack of acidity means no tart-sweet tension, which is what makes a peach — even a sweet peach — a peach. 

But in this case... Well, have I mentioned that this particular white peach is shaped like a donut? 

I was excited. Peter could tell.

"You know who else likes donut peaches?" he asked me.

"Who?"

"Wild turkeys," he said. "Lupe doesn't know what to do."

I looked through the half box of donut peaches. Some bore the bite marks of ill-mannered birds. Rather than eating a whole peach, they had taken single bites out of several.

Turkeys.

A few minutes later, a restaurant snapped up the donut peaches — eight pints gone before I could even devise a scheme to get one home.

We kept one donut peach for display. And one that we had already cut into for sampling.

It was fantastic.

You just had to eat around the turkey bites.