Growing up in the suburbs of Atlanta as the youngest of five kids, I was immersed in my family’s ancestral food traditions, rich with recipes passed down orally through six generations. One of the most treasured is our peach cobbler, a treat that my mom prepared on summer weekends with me nearby helping mix the dough and gobbling up the velvety fruit skins as she peeled them away.
My family’s method calls for precooking chunks of fruit with sugar and spices until they just soften, thickening the filling
