Late-season produce always put me in a fruit frenzy. At the market last week, in a tableau straight from a Manet still-life, golden peaches sat beside a pile of fragrant melons, pints of blackberries laid out alongside. They're each lovely to eat on their own, but paired with spirits they rise to a new level of indulgence: to sip a fruity cocktail while watching the shadows lengthen is to know why Henry James believed "summer afternoon" were the two most beautiful words in the English language.
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