LIFE magazine was a regular visitor to our house when I was growing up, and I would bet that it was the most commonly subscribed-to magazine in the country back then. It was put together by many well-known, or soon to be well-known, writers and photographers — Ernest Hemingway, James Michener, Margaret Bourke-White — and I still remember many stories, and many iconic photographs. And I say this because that's an undeniable statement, although I’m pretty tired of the word “iconic.” In this case, no other word will do.

One story that has stayed with me had to do with a family that was trying to escape from China in the days of the Red Guard. The Red Guard was made up, mostly, of young boys and girls whose job was to keep an eye on transgressions against the state and its society, and to report aggressively on those. It was, I suppose, the Hitler Youth of its day. Anyway, I don’t remember details about this family, except that they were intellectuals and, therefore, disdained by a government whose goal was to stamp out class and diversity in pursuit of leveling down, rather than raising up. I was in China a few years ago, and our guide told us about how, as a child, she had had to testify against people in the community  — doctors, etc. — who were too prideful and not “common” or humble enough. When I asked if the driver of our van spoke English the conversation stopped, and she spent the rest of the journey looking out the window. I have heard that real estate events in China are well attended and that people who can afford to do so buy foreign property as escape hatches, just in case. Faith in a stable future is apparently in short supply, and the possibility of “re-education” may still loom.

I digress. The father in this family was not present — either escaped or imprisoned — and the mother and daughter were on the run. What I remember most clearly about this story was that, as part of a surging crowd on a train platform, they realized that they had somehow attracted the suspicions of a watchful Red Guard monitor. Something about them must not have said “peasant,” and that was dangerous.

How did they get away? The mother took two peaches from her bag, and they ate them — in public, standing up, biting through and swallowing the peach skin, something a more “refined” person would never do. The guard lost interest, and they lived to tell the tale.

Who knew that such judgments existed in the world? I didn’t, I was taught by LIFE. You may be glad to know, though, that this isn’t a story about mannerisms, or manners, as clues to class or status. It’s about one last visit to peach season as it dwindles, and one last visit to granita as the final hot days of summer lead us into the early morning haze, shorter days, and deep blue skies of the coming fall.

This recipe should be enjoyed just as a simple pleasure, no need to intellectualize it at all. But it does use peach skin, if you are inclined to do that — everything has a backstory, it seems, even peaches. Ripe, luscious peaches, is there anything better?


A Very Refined Peach Granita
Serves 10, depending.

Most recipes for peach granita call for pureed peaches. I haven’t tried them, I think the result might be a sort of peach sludge, which wouldn’t be a true granita. This recipe, which I found years ago, originally called for poaching the peaches in the stock, and then using them as a part of the dessert. I think they had an undesirable cooked taste and somewhat mushy texture when treated that way. Adding canned peaches to the stock instead — unsweetened, in their own juice — can intensify the peach flavor, and those can then be discarded or eaten separately. Or you can use fresh peaches. Regardless, I prefer this served with fresh, not poached, peach slices. Have the poached slices with your morning yogurt, there’s an idea. This recipe produces clear, beautifully colored, peach-flavored slivers of ice. The rosy color is thanks to the skins.

16 oz. of dry white wine. Use a wine that you would actually enjoy drinking just by itself. A medium-priced wine.
3/4 c. of granulated sugar
3 or 4 strips of lemon zest, yellow only, no white pith. Strip it off with a potato peeler.
1 and 1/2 c. water
Lemon juice, fresh squeezed. The amount will vary depending on how juicy the lemon is, and how strong its flavor. See below.
6 or so ripe peaches. If they are small, you will need more. If you want to add fresh peaches to the liquid, you will also need more; another four largish peaches should do it. Again, I don’t use the poached peaches in the final dessert. If you use canned peaches, eight halves should be enough. Choose peaches whose skins are as red as possible, the final color will be prettier.
1/4 tsp. vanilla extract
You will need additional lemon juice and sugar.
Whipped cream and fresh peach slices to serve, and almond cookies/amaretti are good on the side.

Wash the peaches under running water, rubbing them with a small piece of paper towel so that all the fuzz is removed and washed away and the skin is smooth. Peel off the skin and collect it in a small bowl. Slice the peaches into a larger bowl. Sprinkle the slices with some lemon juice and a tablespoon or two of sugar, and stir gently — I use my clean hand to do this, so the slices stay as whole as possible. Take a piece of wax paper and push it gently down onto the surface of the peaches. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap and refrigerate. This will help keep the peaches from turning brown, but don’t do this any earlier than the morning you are planning to serve them.

Combine the wine, sugar and lemon zest in a saucepan and heat on low heat, stirring, until the sugar has dissolved. Use a pan large enough to accommodate the additional peaches, canned or fresh. Add the peaches and the water. Raise the heat a bit and bring to a simmer; simmer for about 15 minutes. Remove the peaches, use as above.

Let the liquid cool for about 20 minutes or so, until it is lukewarm. Add the vanilla, and add the lemon juice a bit at a time. Taste it and go slowly: when there is a faint hint of lemon under the predominate flavor of peach, stop. Less is more in this case, so when you start wondering it you need more lemon, you’re done. Add the peach skins and reheat, allowing the mix to simmer slowly for another 20 minutes.

Strain the liquid through a fine strainer. You want about 3 c. of liquid. so add a bit of water if you need to. Pour into a wide, flat metal pan (not non-stick), having made room for it in your freezer. After an hour, and every half hour after that, scrape up the crystals that form with a large fork, until a mass of icy shards has completely formed. Put slices of fresh peaches onto chilled plates; add a dollop of lightly sweetened whipped cream and a good spoonful of granita. Get it onto the table lickety-split — like most of the world’s most beautiful things, the granita melts away far too quickly.

Share this post

Written by
Pamela Osborne