These plums were calling to me last Saturday at the Jackson Hole Farmers Market on the Town Square. Arriving promptly at 8 a.m., I made a beeline for Sloan Andrew’s stand, and my favorite selection of stone fruit in the Valley.
As I carefully chose a dozen or so fragrant plums, I couldn’t help but imagine a plum pie, a tart, a crisp, a crumble, or maybe even a buckle.
Most of my stone fruit purchases start out this way, only to be sabotaged by the inherent laziness of summer. As the fruit ripens on my kitchen counter (never in the fridge), and I vacillate between intense bursts of athletic energy and lollygagging around the house with my favorite book, the fruit ends up being slurped down over the sink, with the juices dripping off my elbows, until there’s none left to make a nice dessert.