There’s nothing quite like a French market when the fruit is in season. The stalls groan with white and yellow fleshed peaches and nectarines, apricots, grapes and melons.
Still warm from the sun (although husband prefers them cold from the fridge) they’re sweet, succulent and perfectly ripe. I’m ending every meal at home this week in Provence with a bowl of these instead of dessert.
It’s gotta be healthier than creme brulee, right?