Food For Thought: Fall, Week 4
Apple picking (plus an exciting announcement at the end of this post!)
There is nothing quite like biting into a crisp fall apple that you’ve just plucked from a tree.
I went apple picking last weekend. This is the third year in a row that I’ve gone back to the same orchard. It’s in a little river canyon at the base of the mountains, about a ten minute drive from where I grew up. I didn’t realize how much I looked forward to fall apple picking until this year, when I was once again invited to join. It is such a lovely fall ritual.
There weren’t as many apples this year as in seasons past. Last year, we had tons of piñon nuts and apples, this year it was prickly pear fruits and stone fruits, like apricots and cherries, that were in abundance. It’s all in the timing, I suppose. This year brought an early spring freeze, which killed a lot of apple buds, followed by a hot dry May, which stunted more.
The apples that did come in are delicious and juicy, perhaps a product of all the late summer rain we’ve gotten. The orchard has at least a dozen heirloom varieties, each with a different taste. Some apples are tart and good for baking, others small with concentrated flavor, best dried. Yellow ones for snacking and big red ones for juicing.
This is how it used to be—you would plant a diversity. In fact, there are 7500 varieties of apples in the world, with over 2,500 grown in the US.
This orchard reminds me of another one, which we would go to when I was kid. That orchard was in Dixon, a village on the Rio Grande, up the gorge. It was always such a treat to visit in the fall, to spend a magical afternoon walking among the ancient apple trees. We would spend some time picking and sorting, and then the group would gather to press the apples into cider. I loved the taste of that bright juice, a little tart, a little sweet. It made my tastebuds tremble with freshness.
Apple picking, cider pressing, tending to an orchard—these activities are almost always a group effort.
As I walked with my sister in the mountain orchard, I found myself fantasizing about taking care of this place. Pruning the trees in the late winter. Bringing goats in to mow down the grasses and fertilize the soil. Getting rid of the invasive mullein and sowing wildflowers along the riverbanks. After three years of visiting, I was just starting to get to know this place. Imagine tending to it for 30 years. Imagine a community built around a continual return to the same place, the same trees. To witness the changes in ourselves and the world at large.
This year, it felt too warm in the orchard. We still haven’t had a frost despite it being almost November. I remember as a kid, there was a good chance it would snow on Halloween, so you always had to have a contingency plan for your outfit, in case you needed to layer up.
We headed to a golden delicious tree, watching our step to avoid an irrigation ditch, which ran haphazardly through the overgrown field. The dogs ran around us, muddy up to their bellies. I imagined the bears that visited these trees were quite happy.
I’m not sure what I will do with the apples I picked. I’ve already brought some to friends. Eaten a few raw. I will probably try to make a pie, although it never turn out anywhere near as delicious as my mom’s apple pies. Her secret recipe: a lifetime of experience.
Scroll below for this week’s writing prompts as well as an announcement about an upcoming opportunity!
EXCITING NEWS!
I will be teaching a food writing retreat in ITALY next spring!
Come hang out with me for a week in the wild part of Tuscany. We will eat amazing food, explore the countryside, and write daily.
Registration opens in a couple weeks. Sign up for the waitlist here to have priority access! There are only 8 spots, and they will fill up quickly.
Ciao Bella!
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