
Recipe in text below: Peach Sorbetto with Basil and Crème Fraîche
Peaches and basil make a sublime pairing that I love sweet or savory. The melding of the two flavors produces a gentle black-peppery bitter sensation that has become habit-forming for me.
I’ve played around with various renditions of peach and basil over the years. A caprese-like salad, subbing peaches for the tomatoes or even in addition to them is always a hit, especially with fine olive oil, good salt, and coarse ground black pepper. Last summer I made a cold peach soup flavored with Thai basil and dry vermouth. I was really happy with that, too. This year my Thai basil turned brown and collapsed into the dirt after only a few weeks, so no such soup for me this summer.
My father always put together sliced peaches and dry red wine in a big bowl for backyard summer cookouts. He’d scatter whole basil leaves on top. There was no added sugar, and the tannic pucker of the wine carried the “dessert” to a high place in my culinary memory. I make that a few times each summer.
To go super savory, I’ve sautéed peaches with shallots, basil, and a few drops of vinegar, to serve over grilled pork chops. Pretty good, like a deconstructed chutney. Or you might throw cut peach halves on a grill and fill them hot with a cheese-free Genoese pesto. You might also want to try crostini topped with ricotta, peach, and basil, maybe lemon basil. Or you could use the same topping on a hot, oily focaccia. I’ve never tried that myself, but I can imagine it would be lovely.
I also love a Harry’s Bar–inspired peach purée and prosecco, garnished with a perfect basil sprig. I sometimes add a drizzle of Campari. And a vodka and soda is made fuller and less purely medicinal by a shot of peach juice and a few basil leaves.
This time I made a proper sweet thing, a peach and basil sorbetto. The friend I served it to last night said she would have been willing to pay 80 dollars for it in a restaurant. That made me feel good.

If you’d like to try making it, the first thing you’ll want to do is make a sugar syrup, half water, half sugar, boiling it for a few minutes to dissolve the sugar. I used a cup of sugar, but you never really know in advance how much sugar your fruit is going to need, so it’s good to prepare a little extra. Let it cool completely.
Then peel five really ripe, fragrant peaches, leaving a little of the red skin for color. You need soft, ripe ones for this so they purée easily with no lingering lumps. Slice the peaches into thick chunks, and put them into a food processor along with a squeeze of lemon juice and a tiny pinch of salt. Purée until smooth. Start adding the sugar syrup, pulsing it in and tasting as you go. Stop when you’ve got a nice balance. Add a heaping tablespoon of crème fraîche, and blend everything until smooth.
Pour the purée into the bowl of an ice cream machine. Scatter 5 well-chopped basil leaves on top, and process until frozen.





Holli DeLauro sent me here to read your recipe. I’m doing a peach sorbet inspired by this! Peach purée with sugar, lemon juice, my homemade Meyer lemon and red wine vinegars, some homemade clotted cream and basil from the garden. Thank you for the inspiration, and a friendly hello from Holli!
Hi James, That sounds wonderful. Let me know how it comes out. And a hi to Holli.
Erica
Sounds wonderful and looks amazing! I wish Joe liked peaches! Poor me!
How could anyone not like peaches? XX
How is right??? Our first summer together I made a peach pie…one bite and well….there was a lot of peach pie that found it’s way to the garbage! Upside…he does like nectarines! Go figure!
Probably, like me, he doesn’t like the fuzzy skin. I always peel them. Nectarines and peaches taste pretty much the same, so that must be it. Or, maybe he senses a slight difference? but that is really princess and the pea XX
Actually, it seems to be a texture thing as well as the fuzz. He thinks peaches are “too mushy”… perhaps it was the taste of the cooked peaches? When I made the amaretti stuffed nectarines last summer he loved them! Who knows!
People are strange. My sister hates anchovies on a pizza, but loves them in an antipasto with mozzarella and tomatoes, which is basically an uncooked pizza. Can’t figure that one out.