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It’s been almost a week since I started my “fast” from facebook and People magazine.  I do this because they have become sinkholes of unproductivity and addiction, and a detriment to intellectual health.  Status update blurbs and celebrity gossip headlines are only worsening my already alarmingly short attention span.  Surprisingly, or more like embarassingly, it has been tough to wean myself off those websites, as if my fingers are programmed to type in their URLs at any idle moment of the day.  Without the media noise, my mind is pleasantly quiet.

My friend, who apparently has an amazing memory for words, never reads the photo captions on People because she cannot bear to clutter her brain with information junk.  I told her I didn’t think there’s a capacity limit to your memory.  But now that I think about it, she’s completely right.  I’m not saying that mindless entertainment is wrong, because everyone needs mindlessness every now and then.  But at some point we need to be responsible for censoring what sort of materials get into our brains.  That point is when I find myself having difficulty finishing an article about food shortages for Pakistani flood victims while having no problem watching a youtube video of someone playing with their kitten.

While it’s easy to ignore the important issues of our generation—and I am definitely not exempt from this guilt—apathy is only an attitude that could get you so far before you begin to wonder what there is beyond the meaningless things you fill your mind with.

As a kid, the first thing I’d do when I went to the grocery store was to run to the peaches in the produce section.  Delicate to the touch and imbued with a warm hue of red orange, peaches are one of those few fruits that is gratifying to all senses.  What I loved best was to pet their furry skin which seemed to me something like the smoothness of a baby’s cheek.  I always thought that the scent of peaches is pleasantly unintrusive and ephemeral, unlike the bold tanginess of citruses or the sticky sweet, pervasive odor of overripe bananas.  It is one of those things where I cannot quite remember what a fresh peach smells like until I have one sitting in front of me; and at the first whiff, I would wonder how I could ever forget its dreamy aroma.  A nostalgia that only the aroma of fresh peaches-not canned or artifically scented perfume—can evoke.

For my coworker’s housewarming party, I decided to bring a peach cobbler—the quintessential neighbor-next-door welcoming gift.  I was fortunate enough to buy perfectly ripe yet firm peaches.  From the moment I washed these juicy suckers, I knew that this was going to be a success.  The most time consuming part was peeling them, but even then, all I had to do was gently rub the skin to reveal moist, yellow flesh.  I would have snacked on the fruit, except I was still full from lunch.

When I pulled the final product out of the oven, peach juice was bubbling up from beneath the lightly browned, buttery biscuit topping.  Gawd, I’m so glad that I’m bringing this for someone else, because I doubt I’d have the self control to restrain myself from eating all of this.  It’s not a fancy schmancy cheesecake, but sometimes the simple desserts are the best kind there is.

Hm, I realize that posting this up on facebook defeats the point of my post.  But I’m just hoping that the people who read my blog (if there are any) are the ones who enjoy baking and sharing recipes, and looking at pictures of food.  That’s not too mindless, right?

Peach Cobbler from Annie’s Eats