There’s was a wonderful perfume in my kitchen this past week, thanks to a bowl of ripe Georgia peaches from Pearson Farm, the sixth generation family peach and pecan farm owned and operated by friends Al and Mary Pearson and their son Lawton in Fort Valley, Georgia.

Local Georgia and Carolina peaches are in peak season right now, which means they’re also at their best market price, so it’s a good idea to stock up for freezing, canning, and for slowly simmering to those luscious rich preserves that bring summer sunshine to winter’s breakfast table.

Unless they’re dead ripe, store peaches at room temperature. If they’re about to pass their prime and you can’t cook or eat them right away, go ahead and keep them in the refrigerator. But do use them as soon as you can, because the cold won’t stop them from rotting; it just slows them down.

That first batch of peaches went into a simple cobbler. I did not grow up with the kind that has a batter that pops to the top as it bakes, but with the kind that has a standard crust, with strips of dough layered with the fruit to thicken their juices and bake into fluffy sweet dumplings.

But there weren’t enough peaches for that, so I made a standard butter pastry and while it rested in the fridge, washed, peeled, and cut six very ripe peaches into thick wedges. I tossed them with cinnamon sugar (a cup of granulated sugar shaken with about a tablespoon of cinnamon that I keep on hand in a covered shaker), a heaping tablespoon of cornstarch, generous grating of nutmeg, a small pinch of salt, and a couple of tablespoons of butter cut into bits. I scraped all that into a small casserole, leveled it off, and instead of rolling the pastry, cut it into fanciful shapes, laid them overlapping on top of the fruit, and sprinkled on more cinnamon sugar before baking it in a quick oven until the pastry was nicely browned and the filling bubbly and thick.

The next batch won’t be cooked at all. I’ll gently scrub them under cold, running water, and without peeling them, halve, pit, and slice them into thick wedges. I never peel peaches for dishes like this, unless the weather has been especially dry, making the skins thick and tough. I wash, drain, and pick over an equal volume of blueberries and just toss them together in a big bowl, drizzle in sourwood honey to taste (or any good local honey if I’m out of sourwood), toss gently, and leave them to macerate for half an hour. That is so good on its own, or over ice cream, or with thick, ice-cold bourbon custard sauce or just a pitcher of thick, cold heavy cream.

When the grill is fired up, after I take the last of the meat off the grill, I sometimes halve and pit ripe but still firm unpeeled peaches, allowing a large peach for two people. I brush the cut side with melted butter and grill, cut side down, and until they’re hot through and have distinct grill marks, about 6 minutes. Turn and sprinkle them with cinnamon sugar, then grill until tender, just four to six minutes longer. Serve warm or at room temperature, plain or with a dollop of mascarpone, crème fraîche, or whipped cream, topped off with a light dusting of ground cinnamon or more cinnamon sugar.

Of course, none of that can ever equal the pure, unadulterated pleasure of biting right into a perfectly ripened peach, skin and all, letting the juice slip down your chin.