Goodbye, summer fruit

Lately I've been enamored of making summer fruit cobblers. My baking continue to devolve towards whatever takes the least amount of prep time. Fresh peach cobblers sometimes take extra time because you're supposed to boil the skins off, but if I'm baking for myself, hey, where's the harm on leaving them on? I just found a new (to me) cobbler recipe that doesn't require rolling biscuit dough. Some of the dough rises to the surface to make the topping. For those of you old enough to remember, it's reminiscent of the Bisquick Impossible Apple Pie. I made 2 9x13 pans of it, without even testing the recipe, for my neighbor's birthday party last week and it was good. A few people said it reminded them of their mother's cobbler - a compliment, I hope! The recipe comes from a site called Southern Plate, complete with wonderful step-by-step pictures, so it may be a southern-style method. In any case, try it before the peaches are done for - it's easy and awesomely delicious.

Peach Cobbler
Christy Jordan's Southern Plate

4 cups peeled and sliced peaches
2 T. lemon juice
1/2 cup sugar
1/2 t. cinnamon
1 cup milk
1 cup self-rising flour
1 cup sugar
1 stick butter or margarine

Preheat oven to 350°F. Melt stick of butter in oven proof casserole dish in oven while making pie ingredients. Pour the two T. lemon juice over the peaches. Stir to coat. Pour 1/2 cup sugar over peaches. Stir. Heat in microwave for 1 minute so that sugar begins to melt. Mix together 1 cup flour, 1 cup sugar, and cinnamon until blended. Pour in 1 cup milk and mix until blended. After butter is melted, take casserole out of oven and pour batter on top of melted butter. Pour peaches on top of batter. DO NOT STIR! Sprinkle a tablespoon of sugar over pie. Place in oven and bake for 55 minutes or until golden.

Latest Life is Crappy episode:
I have to make comfort treats lately because our family situations aren't so hot. Jim's mother fractured her hip a couple weeks ago and now he's back in Florida for a couple weeks. She's lucky being in Amelia Island, which somehow seems to always escape hurricane woes. But she's getting so frail and senile. There is no hurricane worse than aging. And then much to my utter dismay, my junkie whore sister got out of jail/rehab and moved back into my mom's house. Prior to this unfortunate event, it took more than 4 years of flying back and forth to finally evict my sister and whatever lowlife-boyfriend-of-the-minute was there. She just turned 48 but still has the mentality of a 15 year old, around the time she starting using drugs and killing what few brain cells she started out with. She should be on a drug awareness poster: "YA SEE WHAT HAPPENS?" It makes me feel sick and stresses me out. I'll probably not be talking to my mom for a while and that makes me sad, given she's probably only got about 10 more years left. I guess what makes me angry is expecting a parent to know what the right thing is and to do it. And then she does the opposite. It makes me glad I have no kids.