I have this recipe for Peach Cobbler from a wonderful Southern lady that I know. She has all the qualities you could imagine of a Southern belle: a big heart, an even greater laugh, an unquenchable love of life, and delectable food.
You’ll love how this recipe maximizes the peach flavor by making the syrup with genuine peach juices!
Cobbler with Peaches
A traditional American dish that satisfies all comfort food cravings is fruit cobbler. very in the Deep South, peach cobbler is very significant to many people.
Peach cobblers come in two primary varieties: one with a batter topping and another with a topping akin to an Aussie scone or American biscuit.
For my part, I like the second option more. It has a crumbly outside and a fluffy center, and the whole thing smells deliciously like cinnamon. The soft, luscious peaches underneath, floating in a not-too-sweet peach syrup, are the ideal complement to the topping!
What You Need to Make the Filling for Peach Cobblers
Let’s start by discussing the peach filling’s ingredients (hint: huge, luscious, ripe PEACHES are involved!):
They also work well if you want to use canned peaches (because sometimes you simply can’t wait for summer!). To adapt the recipe for canned peaches, simply refer to the recipe notes.
Components of the Topping for Peach Cobbler
Here are the ingredients you’ll need to make the peach cobbler’s top layer:
Recipe for Peach Cobbler
Using the peach juices to make the dish’s syrup is one unique feature of this peach cobbler. Although there are faster and easier recipes that omit this step, I promise the flavor is worth it!
It’s time to begin making the topping once the peaches are placed in the oven!
Place and Assemble
This Peach Cobbler’s topping is prepared similarly to that of Australian scones or American biscuits. This is because, at its core, it is the same thing!
My Dad Who Left 20 Years Ago Called from His Deathbed for a Final Wish — What He Asked Broke My Heart
When my estranged father, who left 20 years ago, called from his deathbed, I was torn between anger and curiosity. His final wish revealed shocking truths.
I was getting ready for bed when an unfamiliar number called, followed by a text: “ALICE, THIS IS YOUR DAD. PLEASE CALL, I AM IN THE HOSPITAL.” My heart stopped. Dad? After twenty years? Curiosity won, and I called back.
“Dad?”
“Alice, it’s me. I… I don’t have much time.”
“Why are you calling now?”
“I need to explain… to ask something of you. But please, don’t tell your mother.” He revealed that my grandfather paid him to disappear because he thought Dad was a failure. “I took the money to secure your future.”
“Why didn’t you come back?”
“I couldn’t. But I watched from a distance, saw your graduation, your volleyball games.”
I felt my world tilt. “Why didn’t Mom tell me?”
“Maybe she thought she was protecting you.”
“What do you want now?”
“I need to see you, Alice. One last time before I go.”
I decided to go. At the hospital, he looked frail. “Alice,” he whispered.
“Why did you do it, Dad?”
“I thought it was the best way to secure a future for you. I wrote letters every year. They’re in a safety deposit box.”
After his death, I found the letters. They were filled with his regrets and love. I confronted Mom, who admitted she thought it was best for me too.
In the end, I used the money to start a scholarship fund in his name, honoring his memory and sacrifices.
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