Peach Mousse

Creamy dreamy Peach Mousse

Hi ho, neighbors! As I mentioned before, H, Mom and I are off exploring the Klondike, searching for bears and moose and other wilds. Speaking of mousse of a different variety, I’d like to introduce you to Emilie Baltimore, the voice and artist behind the adorably named blog Cookies for England.  She introduced me to her readers a while back and I’m happy to do the same and she’s come packing with an original recipe for you all to boot.  Oh, and did I mention that she’s a published cookbooker?  I bow in awe. Anyway, without further ado, here’s Emilie! 

Hello out there, foodies!  I was beyond flattered when Chrissy asked me to share a guest post on her awesome site, The Hungary Buddha Eats the World.  I have been blown away by Chrissy’s talent ever since I came across her blog, and it pleases me greatly to see that there are people out there, such as Chrissy, who possess beauty as well as brains.  I think she’s just about perfect—in fact, the only flaw I can find with her is that she doesn’t like cantaloupe.  So I suppose Paradise really is Lost . . . but don’t tell John Milton.

Chrissy asked me to share a little bit about myself, so let’s start at the beginning . . . (dreamy music plays in the background . . .)

I am born. 

(Defensively) Well, you said to start at the beginning!

Chrissy might not like cantaloupe, but she obviously likes nuts, since she likes me.  😀

Anyway, let’s go a bit further ahead.  I grew up in Pennsylvania—in the heart of Amish country. No.  I was not Amish.  You can live in the country surrounded by Amish and not be Amish.  Although, once I heard a phone ring and saw an Amishman pull a cell out of his pocket and answer it, so the jury’s still out on that one . . .

It truly was a magical place to grow up.  The farms and woods and streams went on for miles.  You actually knew your neighbors, and people never locked their doors.   Sometimes we would go to town for groceries, and when we came back our neighbors would have taken our clothes off the line and put them on our porch, because it had started to rain.  The post office lady would let you take your neighbor’s mail, along with your own, to save your neighbor a trip.  It really was a sweet, Mayberry-type existence.

When I moved to South Carolina after college, I found that the people there were every bit as nice, but the Southern world was definitely a culture shock to me.  I was introduced, immersion-style, to the culture of Gamecocks vs. Clemson, men always holding doors for ladies, and light-as-a-feather buttermilk biscuits.  As one who could have probably counted on one hand the number of times I’d eaten biscuits in my life, these lightweight, buttery bits of loveliness were a revelation.  And somewhere there, in the culinary abyss between North and South, I found my comfort point.  (*Note: I seem to have retained a little of both North and South, because last week at the flea market a man tried to talk me into buying a “Dixie Babe” hat.  I told him I wasn’t really much of a rebel, and I wasn’t actually from the South.  He gave a deep, gusty sigh and said, “Well, if you don’t tawk, no one won’t nevah know . . .”)

And then I got married and moved to Virginia—near Washington, D.C.  And I use that term “near” loosely, as almost everyone who works in the city (my husband, included) has a healthy commute.  Eh . . . it’s the nature of the beast.   Virginia, especially Northern Virginia, is the best of both worlds.  It’s sort of a melting pot of cuisines, cultures, and tastes.  You can have the best Southern fried chicken and biscuits in the beautifully rural Front Royal, and then get Jewish soul food like the to-die-for Reuben sandwich from Chutzpah Deli in Fairfax, and traditional Amish favorites like Whoopie Pies and homemade cinnamon rolls at the Amish and Mennonite stores in Culpeper and Manassas.  I also love the authentic Italian bistro, Basilico’s (where most of the staff members are actually from Italy, and Italian is being constantly shouted/screamed/and cursed in the kitchen) in Fredericksburg.  It’s really just an embarrassingly rich culinary layout, and I love every bit of it.

So whether you’re a city mouse or a country mouse, a chef or just a home foodie, there is always something for everyone.  Chrissy asked me to share one of my favorite recipes, so I chose one that, like me, is a little bit of everything—here, and there, and everything in between. 

This recipe for Peach Mousse is bursting with summer fruit and can be customized to whatever you have on hand.  You can make it yourself, or let your kiddos help (I find that “selling” fruit to them is much easier if they helped to make it ;).  The best part is that this mousse is a cinch to make, and you can make it in advance and whip it out at the last minute for a special occasion.  It’s easy enough for everyday, or fancy enough for a ladies’ night or bridal shower treat.  And if my 4 year old can help make it, I know that you can, too! Thanks again, Chrissy—it was an honor to share a little bit of my story with your readers!  😀