Ok, so here is the plan. I will wake up early, as I usually do. I will go for a run, as I often do. I will return home and eat the hell out of some blackberry peach coffee cake, as I rarely get to do. My Sweet Lady made this thing a couple of years ago, and just eating it gave me the sensation of being on a vacation in the world’s best bed and breakfast in Seattle or San Francisco.
No, I don’t know why Seattle or San Francisco. That’s not the point. Yes, I get that it is kind of weird because peaches and blackberries grow in the south. Ok, let’s say Charleston then. Not like down town, South of Broad, egg cups and bone china Charleston. I’m thinking more like renegade beach, out past James Island, Folly Beach kind of Charleston. Maybe the best we can do is West Ashley. Doesn’t matter, because by now you should get my point.
Just a bite of the coffee cake is enough to out one on vacation. Not a Jimmy Buffet, “Changes in Latitude,” “there are going to be pictures of this behind a paywall soon” kind of vacation either. This is a “I could come back here every year” vacation. The tanginess of blackberries and the sweetness of the streusel topping balance one another under the warm syrupy sun of fresh peaches. It’s a summer morning with a soft breeze and the hint of possibility about the day. Including the possibility that one might read the New York Times all morning.
Not likely, tomorrow, but for about 10 minutes I will believe that it can be.