The end of summer comes as an omen of the quick passing of time. One evening in August, something changed in the air. The gusty fog of summers past made way for a wind with bite. We happened to be taking an evening constitutional and I noted Beck popping his collar for a bit of increased protection from the elements. As we returned home, I almost reached for the small plastic lever on the thermometer to turn on the heater but abstained from the impulse.
It’s hard to remember the first time you tasted a peach. Perhaps, for you, that difficulty of recollection pertains to tomatoes or something as basic as bread. But labneh, labneh is a different story altogether.