The best thing about coming home from this trip--besides seeing my kitty Ella, of course--is getting back in time for tiny Blenheim apricots. They are a specialty of the Bay Area, and their season is so short you blink and they go *poof*.
The blenheims are an old-fashioned kind of apricots that are getting increasingly hard to find. Fewer and fewer farmers grow them every year. The reason for the diminishing supplies is definitely not the taste, which is just heavenly, but more because they are ever so delicate. Just look at them funny and they bruise, we like to say.
In the world where everything has to look blemish-free and perfectly formed, these bruised babies hardly have a place. As for me, I just adore the freckled imperfection and ther sweet, fragrant flesh. They are tiny, and they taste like you take normal size apricots and miniaturize them, intensifying the flavor. I don't mind the bruises here and there, they make them even sweeter I say. The Blenheims don't last very long off the trees, nor after they are bought at the market, but somehow that's never been a problem for me either. They are usually gone the same afternoon.
If you're in Bay Area, or just happen to find yourself here right now, look out for them at the farmers market. You'll thank me later.