Peach Cobbler

I have memories of peach cobblers. They were a wonderful creation. I distinctly remember them being easy and common. The type of thing made to use up peaches that were ripening too fast. My peaches had reached that stage and I wanted cobbler. I love cobblers.

I pulled out recipe book after recipe book. They either didn't have the lowly cobbler or they had up-dated it. I put one recipe book back in disgust. Who asked them to put a modern twist on the peach cobbler? What was wrong with the old one? Cobbler's were supposed to be easy. You dumped in fruit and dumped a mixture on top. I decided to trust the one recipe book that has yet to fail me.

I don't remember my mother's cobbler having alcohol in it. This didn't seem simple. But I decided that peaches simmered in sherry sounded like a good idea. Not that I had sherry. I have port. I have decided that they are interchangable so that when a recipe calls for sherry, I pull out the port. It just makes it richer. More of my port has gone into cooking than I have drunk. I mentally reflect to revisit the rule about not drinking by yourself.

The rest of the recipe whips up easily and I carefully spoon it on top so that I will get the hilly crust. I pop it in the oven. I lick the batter. It's sweet almost like almonds. Nothing like almonds went in it. I"m perplexed. Later when I'm checking on it, I discover that the crust has evened itself out. It does not look like a cobbler. I pull it out and test it. It's still not done. I try a bit of the crust. Hmmm, it's good but it doesn't taste like my memories. I remember it being a rougher creation. The thing is still cooking. I'm convinced that it isn't a cobbler. Port and almonds . . . not my mother's cobbler.

I've come to the conclusion that when you want to make it just like Mum made it, you've got to get your hands on Mum's recipes. And as soon as she comes home from work, I'm calling her. I know she too will be surprised. She always said cobblers were easy and simple. She's probably already made one to use up her peaches. I bet my brother had extra helpings - his and my share. I bet he phones to brag. I'm going to have a glass of port while I listen.