Apple picking has become a tradition in our family over the past 10 years. I’m so grateful that living in Greater Chicagoland has afforded us with the opportunity to visit some amazing apple orchards.
Thanks goes to Aunt Amber. She’s been a driving force in getting us up early to drive an hour plus (almost two hours) to Edwards Apple Orchard to pick apples. And these apples have become the most delicious apples pies. We’ve enjoyed in the autumn, devoured them at Thanksgiving, and spooned them over ice cream during Christmas break. She has delivered the SOAKs (Small Acts of Kindness) over the years and has prepared dozens of pies.
What I’ve come to learn is that apple pies are like people. What works for one person doesn’t necessarily meet the fancy of another. Take nuts for example.
Walnuts – Juglans regia
Dating back perhaps as far as 7000 B.C., walnuts might just be the oldest food derived from a tree. In ancient Persia, walnuts were only served to royalty. Part of the spice trade, English merchant marines transported the product for trade to ports around the world. The outer shell provided a natural protective layer helping to maintain the quality of the nut.
My husband is allergic to nuts – especially pecans and walnuts – all the really good meaty nuts that are ever-present in holiday baking. An apple pie with crumble that includes either of those nuts would be disastrous for Warren, while I would lick the pie plate clean. But an apple pie with a lattice top that has been drizzled with the most amazing buttery, cinnamon caramel sauce. Well. That’s a different story all together.
The outcome is always delicious. But what I really appreciate now more than ever is that apple pie making is just as much, if not more, about the process: Picking. Cleaning. Peeling. Slicing. And then making the apple pie itself. It’s rewarding to go to the farm and pick the fruit. Literally these pies become the fruit of our labor.
The vibrant reds. Mouth-watering greens. The fun of peeling and cutting an apple in one smooth motion. My sister tells me that our grandmother, Beulah, could peel an apple with a pairing knife in one long peel. Feeling the fullness of the apple, the strength of the blade, and the delight of seeing one long peel unfold to your feet. I think about that scene in “Sleepless in Seattle” when Meg Ryan’s character is listening Jonah on the radio show and peels an apple. All in one motion.
But for those of us who are less talented than Beulah (and Meg Ryan) there are these beautiful apple peeling stands. It’s beautiful to watch the red separate from the white flesh of the apple.
We’ve lost touch with our agrarian self. Our culture has become one of immediacy. The COVID19 pandemic has reinforced this in many ways. Now during the COVID-19 pandemic, the simple joy of shopping has been overridden fraught with worry and sadly fear. Not wanting to shop, we are fortunate to have just about any product delivered to our door. But something gets lost in translation. For apples: from farm to farmer to us. Maybe that’s why the Farm to Table movement has been so successful.
Regardless of farms, fruits and tables, I’m always happy to enjoy apple pie. Especially when hot from the oven.