The weekend was a blur. A happy, busy, buckle-cutting blur. Part of my early Saturday was spent in the kitchen with my incredible friend Jolene, owner and proprietress of Holly Hill - my most favorite corner of the earth. She made the divine dessert you see here. The pictures hardly do it justice. It was divine. When I gasped and raved about this beautiful thing's taste and texture, she simply shrugged. She shrugged. Whereas I'd be standing atop a table, wildly pointing and jumping up and down and shouting, "People. I. MADE. This. Beautiful. Thing. FROM. SCRATCH," she simply shrugs it off. She cooks likes this all the time, you see. She even handpicked the blueberries that topped the fresh peaches that went into this homemade cobbler. Or crisp. Betty. Whatever. Jolene's amazing. If you ever want to get away, come here and sit on her porch and order a plate of this. You won't want to go home. Not ever.
She has a blog, you know: the cobbler queen. (That's your new nickname, Jolene.) You should stop by and see her as you have the time. She has great plans for her blog, and I'm sure if they're anything like her home, her food, and her garden, we'll all be enthralled. The sit-at-her-feet-and-scribble-down-everything-she-utters type of enthralled.
Hmm. Okay. I'm starting to feel guilty about bombarding you with all these pictures and carrying-ons when you can't even taste a forkful of this sweet, fruity heaven on a plate. I feel badly. It's a shame - a real crying shame.
But more for me. Jolene, thanks. Maybe one day we can all gang up on you and get the recipe for your cobbler. Or Betty. Or buckle, crumble, crisp, grunt, or slump... whatever....
(UPDATE: The recipe is in! Try this beauty for yourself by visiting Jolene's recipe - and her great blog - here.)