The burnished Frog Hollow peaches sleep in the wire basket. There's the possibility of cobbler or just slices along side a few scoops of vanilla ice cream. It's comforting to be in a cold San Francisco summer with the fruits of warmer valleys: Cherries, plums, nectarines and elusive pluots, dark purples planets of plum and apricot genes, dazzling on a dessert plate of cookies and sorbet.
Comfort in the summer means, a warm fire, a chef whose restaurant you can walk to, Anderson Valley pinot noir and classes at a pool that make you feel like you're in blazing hot Mexico. You never seem to get away, the pull of home continually drowning your wanderlust. You think of what to do with the peaches and come to vanilla creme anglaise with shortbread, as a show of faith.