This Clever Hack Changed the Way I Cut Clingstone Peaches
Last year I publicly declared my love for nectarines over peaches, causing a little stone fruit drama. Nectarine season hasn’t started here in Washington yet, but we’ve got the first few weeks of peaches under our belts. Plus, I have a giant box of Georgia peaches I ordered online to see if there really was something I was missing.
I am pleased to report that while my mind remains unchanged on the superiority of nectarines, peaches are still close behind. And in any competition that involves me eating endless stone fruit the winner is me, with my sticky paws and full belly.
In fact, all too often the stone fruit is the loser — in my attempt to slice up a clingstone peach I manage to mangle it, losing too much juice and pressing my fingers into the tasty flesh. You see, I am not going through my mounds of Washington and Georgia peaches alone, but must share them with my two young daughters.
I could give them whole fruit, but they would probably take a few bites, see a shiny object, and forget about it. They’d leave a trail of peaches throughout the day, each one with a tiny mouse nibble taken from one side. Instead, I cut them up. And after seeing a recent video posted by food writer It’s Holly on Instagram, I realized there is a much better way to cut a peach.
As she predicts, I had been cutting peaches along the crack — that line that runs from the stem to the point. But, she advises, I should be cutting them along the equator.
After doubtfully watching the video, I grabbed a ripe peach and followed her instructions. The Georgia peach pit all but threw itself out of the fruit. I grabbed a lightly underripe Washington one, a clingstone clutching the fruit like a kid holding his parent’s leg on the first day of daycare. I cut around the fat middle and twisted the top off; another easy turn. I cut the second part and, with a little pressure, the pit popped out.
I love when a super-simple trick turns out to really work, and it will serve me well as I work my way through this pile of peaches and await the greatest weeks of the year: nectarine season.