
And like many of the great festivals across Arkansas throughout the summer, we found people from around a community, coming together for a good time. But there was something missing this year.
The aroma hanging over the relaxed crowd was one of satisfaction and deep fryer grease.
Vendors from around these parts had set up in carefully aligned rows on the Court Square, some hawking T-shirts and purses and jewelry, others with quilts and potholders and rag dolls, still others just handing out pamphlets and water bottles and information.
But something was missing.
With stomachs rumbling (and my never-ending search for good food continuing) we walked down a bit to see what else we could find. We passed a shoe store, an antiques market, and turned down next to Fred's. No food to be seen.
little place called Joco Java that was on
the next corner. Indeed, it looked inviting
-- a two story building that had obviously
received much care, grape and
muscadine trellises overhead, a little oasis.
Sadly, strange signs greeted us,
Well, looked like it was definately fair fare for us for lunch. No problem.


I always like this sort of stand -- the food tends to be cheaper and somehow enhanced by the humbleness of its nature.

The lady working the pies flicked a brush into a Cool Whip container, coated the pastries with something that was somewhat but not completely unlike Cool Whip, and we were handed very hot morsels of

You just know when you're getting something homemade -- outside of the obvious crimping and icing of such pastries, there's that taste... that wild blackberry taste you can't replicate with pie filling.


I love summer blackberries.
We went over to the gazebo for a seat and a chance to consume our pies. I watched one of the booths nearby for a while, where hair garlands and yarn puppets were being sold. Little girls clamored for the wreaths of artificial daisies.






And that's where we discovered the sad truth -- this Peach Festival, sadly enough, had no peaches. More than a month's worth of rain (six or seven inches' worth in some places) had delayed the crops. Peaches were still green on the trees, and it's likely to be the second week of July before the majority of this year's crop are ready.
Wow... a Peach Festival without peaches. Yet no one's enthusiasm had seemed to flag. There were still all sorts of things going on for everyone to do. I suppose it had turned into more of a celebration of the peach than anything else.


The kids were sorted into an older (8-12) and younger (under 8) age group. They each signed up for the contest and took a peach offered to them.

The rules were explained -- each competitor was to eat the peach all the way down to the pit, then hold it up. They were told that these were cling peaches, so don't be surprised if some of the yellow stubbornly held onto the pit. Heads were counted, roll was called, and then they were off!
The splat of juice at the feet of competitors was barely audible over the cheers and encouragement of parents in the crowd.
In under a minute, several of the kids had held up their pits in glory.
The next heat was organized, with the younger kids.
As the rules were being explained, a couple of the kids misunderstood and started eating when "ready set eat" was mentioned -- and then they were all into it.
The younger kids seemed to go after the peaches with even more zeal... and even when the winners of the heat were declared, most of the kids continued to eat, enjoying and savoring their peaches with vigor.
One young lady was oblivious to the crowd and ate every bit of her peach, bent over to keep the juice from rolling down the front of her shirt.
The third heat began, and... well, see for yourself.
It was, indeed, a sight to behold.
Afterwards, we went inside the cool courthouse to await the beginning of the food competitions -- jams, jellies, and cobblers. It took some time before we saw the first of the cobblers laid out on a table, and we waited with anticipation for more. And we waited. And waited. And then we finally realized -- the single cobbler and single jar of jelly was all there was for the competition. The rules clearly state that the peaches used in the recipes have to come from Johnson County... and perhsps that's why there were so few entries.
The crowd that had formed around the judges table watched as the judges were interviewed -- Jennifer Breedlove, Queen Elberta 2008; Arissa Griffin, Miss Arkansas Valley 2008; and Miss Arkansas 2008, Ashlin Baston -- who told a reporter that she had better have some peach cobbler!
When he mentioned that there was just one cobbler and that three of the judges were big burly law enforcement officers, she told him "I made it through 47 other girls at the Miss Arkansas Pageant; they have something to worry about."
The cobbler samples were passed around, notes were taken, the winner announced.

In under a minute, several of the kids had held up their pits in glory.

As the rules were being explained, a couple of the kids misunderstood and started eating when "ready set eat" was mentioned -- and then they were all into it.


The third heat began, and... well, see for yourself.
It was, indeed, a sight to behold.



Hopes for more peaches were shared all around.
And this is where we left off, heading out the doors and back home. Another trip out west on I-40 is planned soon, as soon as we hear that peaches are ruddy orange and ready for picking, and we can savor that fruity delight on our own.
This was the 67th festival... and Arkansas' oldest outdoor festival gathering. I bet it will continue, peaches or not. Most years, the rain and the weather are agreeable to synching up on having the peaches ready. So they weren't this year? That's AOK.
If you'd like to learn more about the festival, peaches, or whatnot, contact the festival organizers.
No comments:
Post a Comment
Be kind.