An Apple a Day
We have awoken from our August summer slumber to somehow find ourselves in September, and you know what that means. That’s right, for the next couple of months, we’ll be inundated with all things pumpkin spice: breakfast cereal, coffee creamer, muffins, donuts, candy, mixed nuts, beer, and even lunch meat. Although I do love most of those things, today I’m here to talk with you about another fall favorite, which is pumpkin’s crisper cousin, the apple.
We’ve all heard the saying “an apple a day keeps the doctor away.” Of course, that refers to eating an apple a day, but what health benefit is derived from bending, kneeling and crawling on all fours to pick up hundreds of apples off the ground? Does that saying change to “Harvesting many apples a day keeps the chiropractor well-paid?”
Several years ago, my wife and I lived in the house I grew up in, and we maintained a small produce farm on the property in our spare time. As part of that venture, we had four ancient Macintosh apple trees on the land, and though we couldn’t keep up with the pruning, spraying and maintenance of the trees for them to yield the flawless fruit you’d get at an orchard, they did give us lots of useable apples most years. Unfortunately, our busy schedules got in the way of picking them off the tree, and―since time and gravity wait for no one―the fruit would ripen, then follow Sir Isaac Newtown’s theory and fall to the ground by the bushels-full. This created quite an obstacle to such things as mowing the lawn or, you know, walking without twisting one’s ankle.
Now, if we never planned on using any of the apples, clearing them off the ground would be a minor chore. Just toss the apples into the garden cart and haul them off to the compost pile.
Right.
Being New Englanders, descended from generations of folks who believed that just about anything you come across in life could be used for something, someday, it’s unheard of to discard such things. Picture my departed Mémére’s basement, which contained a few broken vacuum cleaners, enough paper shopping bags to outfit a supermarket for six months, and dozens of hand-washed Styrofoam fast food hamburger containers (and you know how long it’s been since McDee’s served a Big Mac in one of those) and you’ll understand our near-unbreakable genetic code compelling us to make use of the natural bounty falling from our trees.
Over the years, we developed a highly-evolved system for harvesting these “drop” apples, and to give you a clearer picture, I’ve broken it down into categories:
Category 1: The Perfect Specimen
This is an apple you’d see proudly displayed at the market: rich, red color and zero blemishes. It’s as if a flock of white doves swooped in to form a feathery net to float the apple to the ground and place the fruit right-side up near the tree, all while a choir of angels sang that Carpenters song about being close to you. These specimens were quite rare for our unkempt trees.
Category 2: The Eater
These still look pretty good, some “scabs” visible, no noticeable worm holes (doesn’t mean they aren’t or weren’t there, but what you don’t see can’t hurt you, right?). Just shine it up and crunch away. As kids, when we did find a worm hole, we’d bite a big hunk around it, spit out the offending flesh , and continue enjoying the rest of the fruit. Ah, the simplistic joy of youth.
Category 3: The Pie/Crisp Apple
Noticeable scabs, bruises and potential worm holes, but enough good areas that a skilled person with a paring knife could cut around this nonsense, then throw a bunch of cinnamon, sugar, and French Vanilla ice cream at it to make something quite delectable indeed. My wife has mastered this process through the years. Mmm…pie…Sorry, I may have drooled a little there.
Category #4: The Cider Apple
This was by far the most common, and could describe just about anything round that hadn’t rotted into the ground. Rumor has it that dear old Dad had an extremely wide range of apples he would plunge into the ol’ cider press, worms and all. We even carried on the family tradition once or twice and made some nice wormy cider in Dad’s memory. Bottoms-up!
Category #5: Oh-my-god-get-it-off-me!
Caution: this isn’t for the squeamish among you. There is one apple your mother always warned you about. Yes, I speak of the dreaded “bad apple.”
Picture―if you will―daylight is fading, you’re in a hurry to get the hundreds of apples separated before darkness falls, so you’ve lowered your standards on what to keep and begin throwing fruit into the cart with reckless abandon. Then, it happens. You reach for an apple that seems solid, and your fingers poke right into the slimy, mushy flesh, releasing that fantastic fermented fragrance that Glade® has yet to market to the world.
Or, perhaps you pick one up and say, “hey, this looks okay.” Then, as you turn it over, you recoil in horror at the half dozen wiry orange worms poking out, reaching for you like the snaky locks on Medusa’s famous head.
Lastly, after hours of picking up fruit and carefully inspecting each one, your eyes get blurry and you think that faint buzzing noise is only in your over-tired mind. The flurry of activity near one particular apple must be some sort of mirage brought on by inhaling fermented apple fumes all afternoon. So, you reach out and grab it, your reflexes just a click behind your brain screaming “Yellow jackets! Yellow jackets! Abort! Abort!” It’s too late, of course. Your hand has already entered the fray to be stung by several of the little yellow and black-striped beasts. This is the main reason my allergic wife wasn’t allowed to harvest the apples, and why there were Epi-pens and Benadryl scattered throughout the house.
These days, we venture forth to our local orchard and enjoy the crisp autumn air while perusing orderly rows of manicured trees displaying perfect apples for our harvesting pleasure. Sometimes, I feel like it’s not enough of a challenge, then I remember the trip to the doctor’s office with my swollen right hand and I get over that sentiment quick.
Thanks for reading my tale of toil while drinking your pumpkin spice swirl latte and munching an apple cider donut. Hey, if I was successful in entertaining you, why not share my blog with your family and friends? Heck, I might even make you some apple crisp to show my appreciation!
And whatever you are, avoid the yellow jackets and be a good one.
-Dave
