My mother used to tell me that it was impolite to eavesdrop.

And I wasn’t, honest, it’s just that as I was doing my shopping at the Wedge Co-op on Friday, I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation going on between a customer and a friendly produce-section staffer. I mean, they were standing about three feet away, and while I was doing my absolute best to concentrate on the task at hand - stuffing salad greens into a bag while minding my own business - my proximity to them meant I was going to catch, at the very least, snippets of their discussion.

She (the customer) was grilling him (the Wedge-er) on what he felt was the best, the absolute top, of the store’s fruits-and-vegetables inventory. He lobbed a few suggestions that I took to mean “Close But No Cigar” before launching into a full-on campaign for the recent arrival of yellow nectarines.

“They’re the tastiest things in the store right now,” he said, and with one fragrant whiff I knew he wasn’t exaggerating. After what I felt was a respectable time lapse - she had moved on to the dairy case, he started re-stocking herbs - I filled a paper sack and brought them home, and within a few hours they were perfuming our kitchen with their sweet-delicate scent. Turns out they were so juicy that the only smart place to eat them was while standing over the kitchen sink.

I was considering a nectarine ice cream, but then I could hear the voice of my friend Rhonda in my brain, as she relived the sorry details of her recent peach ice cream disaster. Besides, yellow nectarines (smooth-skinned peaches) are really too sweet for ice cream; cut up and mixed into plain yogurt, maybe. Then I ran across this recipe. Here’s how I’m going to use a few of them later this week, if I don’t eat them first. (Burrata isn’t an easy find in this town - best bet: Surdyk’s, and be sure to call ahead - but I imagine that this recipe would work nicely with a fresh bufalo mozzarella standing in for the burrata.)

BURRATA WITH NECTARINES, MACHE AND HAZELNUTS
Serves 6.

Note: From “Outstanding in the Field” by By Jim Denevan (Clarkson Potter, $32.50). “Burrata is an extraordinary cheese,” writes author Jim Denevan. “A thin sheath of mozzarella stretches to enclose a velvety center of ricotta-like cream and mozzarella threads. It is best served at cool room temperature - do not let it get to warm, or you’ll have an oozy mess on your hands.”

1/4 c. shelled hazelnuts
2 ripe nectarines
3 to 4 oz. mache
8 oz. burrata (1 small or 2 large balls), at room temperature
Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper
2 tbsp. extra-virgin olive oil, divided

Directions
Preheat oven to 400 degrees. Spread hazelnuts on a baking sheet and toast in oven until they are fragrant and their skins loosen, 5 to 7 minutes. Transfer hazelnuts to a plate and let cool slightly. Rub hazelnuts in a folded kitchen towel to release their skins. Coarsely chop nuts and reserve.
Cut nectarines in half and remove pits. Slice fruit into thin wedges. In a sink filled with cold water, wash mache, carefully removing any dirt or sand stuck between leaves; discard any root ends. Dry mache in a salad spinner.
Using a serrated knife, cut burrata into 1/4-inch slices. Arrange cheese on 6 chilled salad plates. Season with salt and freshly ground black pepper and drizzle with 1 tablespoon of olive oil.
In a medium bowl, toss together mache and nectarines with remaining 1 tablespoon olive oil. Season with salt. Arrange on top of burrata. Sprinkle with hazelnuts and serve.