My kitchen is about nine hundred degrees and I probably stink of sweat right now, but I am happy. Why? The fruit guy offered me a killer deal on Missouri peaches (yes, Amy, as good of a deal as the fruit people coming on Friday). I took thirty pounds off his hands late this afternoon.

Peach pie filling is now in the freezer, and seven quarts of peaches in heavy syrup are pinging as they seal on my counter right now. I still have eight pounds of peaches left. The question is do I turn them all into peach butter tomorrow or do I make a peach cobbler and leave the rest for fresh eating?

Such a delicious dilemma.