If you hadn't noticed, apple harvest time is here!
I'm pretty finicky when it comes to apples and their many varieties. I get that from my mother, who got if from her mother before her. I would imagine even my great-grandmother had a propensity toward carefully selecting a half peck of Jonathans, Haralsons or Wealthys for use in apple pie baking, saving the softer Cortlands and McIntosh for the countless quarts of applesauce she surely canned. Truth be told, I was into my college years before a good friend and classmate clued me in that the world would not, in fact, stop spinning should you opt to cut up a bag of Red Delicious apples for pies. Gasp! Surely no one told her those are better left for eating out of hand!
And so it is that every fall my husband and I make our way to the very same apple orchard we've visited for going on our seventeenth harvest season together to bounce along in the wagon ride which pulls us back to the farther corners of the apple orchard where we pick bags full of ripe, deliciously aromatic apples to take home, wash, and cut up for the season's run of pies, crisps, cobblers, strudels, sauces and cakes. No, this isn't the only time of the year that I utilize apples in my kitchen, but it's the best time!
While my son still frowns at eating fruits of any and all varieties, my daughter loves apples. The girl makes this mom proud with the efficiency with which she bites and nibbles neatly down to the core. She's partial to Fuji and Braeburn, but has been known to bite into a tart Granny Smith when that's all that's left in the crisper basket in the fridge. Since her first apple picking experience at the age of five months, our annual fall trip to the apple orchard has been an autumn activity she eagerly looks forward to with fervent anticipation of being perched atop dad's shoulders to reach the good ones. As she is now at the age of seven, she's had to give up her spot to her little brother. This means I will be called upon to hoist her up from time to time to pluck a perfect pomme from the overloaded bough.
After a thoroughly enjoyable time in the petting zoo, we decide it's time to get to pickin'. "Mommy, can we pick Paula Reds this year?" my daughter asks as she pitches and sways gently next to me on the rumbling wagon ride through the orchard. "And how 'bout Zestar!, mommy. Can we try some of those?" This makes me squirm just a tad. I'm a creature of habit. Tried and true is my motto when it comes to apple picking, and some of the newer apple hybrids make me wonder how many varieties are really necessary. There are already thousands! There's nothing at all wrong with a good old McIntosh, I think to myself. At times like these I have to remind myself that change can be okay, and that the Red Delicious apple pie didn't poison me one bit. Perhaps I'll find a new favorite?
But as I'm mulling over new apple varieties like MN 1734 and New York 2, my husband beats me to answering our daughter. "Sure! Let's try something new!" he heartily proclaims. And so we are deposited under a red embossed street sign planted firmly in the earth that reads "PAULA RED." For a moment, I feel as if I'm disembarking a Greyhound Bus in a strange city. This is new territory for me.
But it's all about the kids, right? So here's to new adventures, folks! I'll keep you posted on how these beauties cook up. In the meantime, get out there and enjoy a day in an orchard.
