Natasha Pickowicz: Peaches & Cream
The smooth, cold pleasures of peaches and cream, nothing else in the way—so clear and bright they sing to you. From her parents’ tree to her backyard sanctuary, a long-distance conversation.
I first discovered Natasha Pickowicz when I illustrated her for my ongoing series with The Cut, Carrying On, about the small ways we find happiness in the everyday. The amazing Emilia Petrarca interviewed her about her passion for dehydrating cherry blossoms, pickling kumquats in chamomile tea syrup, and candying grapefruit and orange peel in sparkly sugar.
Natasha is the author of More Than Cake: 100 Recipes Built for Pleasure and Community, a four-time Beard Foundation finalist, and a strong proponent of the philosophy that dessert spreads delight in a way that no other kind of dish can.
As an artist, I’m smitten with the beauty of her cakes and how they utilize natural elements like flowers. I’m absolutely tickled and impressed at the accuracy of her inside book cover Simpsons doodles, a reason to go to her book signings in addition to meeting her and taking her book home.
I asked Natasha to share a recipe that holds meaning for her, one that transcends the simple taste to evoke an experience, a moment in time, a memory associated with it. She chose one that uses “cool, slippery, fork-tender peaches,” her ideal dessert of the last push of summer, and pairs them with cream. She makes it with dwarf peaches from her parents’ tree, shipped across the country from California to New York to mingle with Natasha’s garden bounty, geranium, lemon verbena, mint…shiso.
I’ll let Natasha take it from here, and then share the recipe. Enjoy!
My parents have a bushy, broad dwarf peach tree growing right in front of the entrance to their home in San Diego. They grow other things too, like lemons, fennel, tomatoes, and rosemary, but the peach tree is definitely my favorite, and I think theirs, too. Every year, this tree generously produces hundreds of small, blushing, ping pong ball-sized fruits; they’re by far the best peaches I’ve ever eaten, and I’ve had a lot of incredible peaches.
When the peaches are about to reach peak ripeness, my parents ship me a big box of them, sometimes still hanging on their leafy, almond-scented branches. It’s always the best mail day of the year; before I even slice open the tape, I can smell their sweet funk pushing through the cardboard. The peaches are tender and sweet, but with a dignified acidity that most peaches, I’m sorry to say, simply don’t possess (I usually prefer nectarines for this reason).
They’re freestone, too, which means that the pit inside easily loosens and pops out with a twist of your fingers. Because the dwarf peaches separate so cleanly and easily into neat halves, I like to poach them, rather than chopping them up for a jam or a pie, which preserves their supple bowl-like shape. I also like to slip herbs from my garden into the poaching liquid, especially ones that pair beautifully with stone fruit, like geranium, lemon verbena, mint, shiso, or sometimes a beguiling mix of them all. In this way, my parents’ bounty joins my garden bounty. It becomes something more, a long-distance conversation between two coasts.
When I was little, I loved helping my parents prune and weed the vegetable garden that ran alongside the house. But it wasn’t until the winter of 2020, when I moved into my current home, that I started to garden myself, for the first time ever really. Even though I live in a small studio, I’m blessed with a backyard bigger than my actual apartment, with rose bushes, a fig tree, a lilac tree—jaw-dropping splendor for a single lady in the city. In the early spring, there are daffodils, tulips, and hyacinths. As soon as it gets warm enough, I direct sow lettuces, kale, herbs, radishes, and pea seeds into the freshly mulched soil.
Best of all, in the spring, summer, and fall (and honestly, sometimes even in the winter), I eat as many meals as possible outside on a long wooden table nestled into my raised beds, feeling the cool breezes and listening to the trilling birdsong and watching the darting shadows dance against the rows of squash and peppers. In this way, my backyard is an extension of my home. Everything tastes more delicious when I’m out there. It’s my living room, my dining room, and my rec room all in one. I would sleep outside if it weren’t for the mosquitoes (or the neighbors).
I entertain a lot. Big backyard ragers, cookouts, smaller dinner parties, brunches, tea with friends, snacks with friends, breakfast with friends. Even though I live in a studio, the yard allows me to have people over all the time, just the way I like it. And when it’s punishingly hot, I don’t stop having people over—I just tweak my menus to feel refreshing or reviving, so the desserts that I serve in my backyard are usually of the chilled or frozen variety.
A bowl of cool, slippery, fork-tender peaches? That’s my ideal dessert any time of the year, but it especially hits in that last push of summer. If you grew up loving canned fruit cocktail, the texture is nostalgic and comforting, but the flavor is altogether something else: so clear and bright they’re singing to you. They’re perfect on their own, but when friends are over I tend to show off: I’ll pour in a bit of eau de vie or mezcal, and top with a just barely thickened whipped cream. You could add crushed amaretti or a handful of granola, but please try it without first and you’ll see you don’t need it, not really—just the smooth, cold pleasures of the fruit and cream, with nothing else getting in the way.
PEACHES & CREAM
(Poached Small Peaches with Rose Geranium Syrup and Cream)
Ingredients
Small peaches (enough to serve — plan for about 2–3 halves per person)
1 cup granulated white sugar
1 cup water
5–6 large rose geranium leaves, rinsed clean
½ cup heavy cream
1. Make the Rose Geranium Syrup
In a small pot, combine the sugar, water, and washed rose geranium leaves.
Place over very low heat and warm gently until the sugar has fully dissolved — you want the syrup warm, not boiling. Do not let it simmer.
2. Prepare the Peaches
Using a sharp knife, cut each peach in half by running the blade around the circumference from the stem to the blossom end.
Gently twist the halves in opposite directions to loosen from the stone.
Remove the stone.
Repeat with all the peaches.
3. Poach the Peaches
Carefully lower the peach halves into the hot syrup.
Keep the heat low so the syrup only steams gently — you should see a bubble or two breaking the surface, but not a simmer.
Poach the peaches for about 15 minutes, turning them occasionally so they cook evenly.
Check for doneness by sliding the tip of a small, sharp knife into a peach — it should glide in without resistance.
4. Cool and Peel the Peaches
Turn off the heat and let the peaches cool in the syrup until they reach room temperature.
Using a slotted spoon, remove a peach half and gently peel away the skin with your fingertips.
The skin should slip off easily.
If it resists, return the peaches to the syrup and poach for a few more minutes before trying again.
Repeat with all the peach halves.
Tip — Save the Skins: Lay the peach skins on a baking sheet and dry them in a cooling (but still warm) oven until translucent and slightly chewy. Use for snacking or as a garnish for cakes or custard.
5. Chill the Peaches
Return the peeled peach halves to their syrup.
Cover and refrigerate overnight to allow the flavors to deepen.
6. Prepare the Cream
Just before serving, pour the heavy cream into a chilled bowl.
Whisk slowly and steadily until the cream has thickened slightly — you want it to be pourable but with a little body (just short of floppy peaks).
If you accidentally overwhip, stir in 1 tablespoon of cream to loosen the texture.
7. Serve
Arrange the chilled poached peaches in a shallow serving bowl.
Spoon plenty of the syrup over them.
Drizzle generously with the softly whipped cream.
Serve immediately.
Extra Uses for the Syrup:
Reuse for another batch of poached fruit.
Stir into sparkling water or cocktails.
Spoon over yogurt, pancakes, or ice cream.