apples again
A few weeks ago I drove to Iowa for a long weekend with the grrly grrl. We strolled along the riverwalk one afternoon and hiked the river bluffs south of town the next; we cooked with the produce we picked up at the farmers market and a few things from my garden that I'd brought from home; we ate pumpkin bread and drank tea and talked and talked and talked.
I bought apples at the farmers market. I bought a lovely little pie pumpkin, too, and some chestnuts, but mostly apples. Longtime readers may recall that, back in the early-to-mid 2000s, I used to post regularly about my then-local farmers market, and my September and October posts were frequently inventories of heirloom apples. My current location is not as good for apples; I've found a couple of places that grow some of my favorite varietals, including Wealthy and Haralson, but if I'm buying local I don't have many options. So it was lovely, and a little overwhelming, to visit this market and suddenly have a lot of options.
I ended up with half a bag of Wolf River and a bag each of Keepsake and Winesap. Wolf River isn't ideal for fresh eating, but it makes a spectacular baked apple and works very well in apple crisp (which is usually what I do with it). Keepsake is an excellent keeper, as the name suggests; it's a cross of Malinda with my beloved Northern Spy, with Malinda's sweetness just barely offset by Northern Spy's tartness, which makes it a breakfast apple for me. The Winesaps are beautiful -- small, as they generally are, and a striking dark burgundy color -- and perfect for fresh eating: sweet and tart at the same time, firm-fleshed and crunchy.
I drove home on winding county highways at the peak of fall color, reveling in the last hours of a few days away, singing along to Jeffrey Foucault: Iowa in the springtime throws shadows on the ground / where the Mississippi River follows the railways down... Home through the early afternoon, and then the late afternoon, and then the gathering dusk, home to my own little town surrounded by farmland, juice on my chin and fingers, apples on the seat beside me.
Originally posted at Dreamwidth || Read
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I bought apples at the farmers market. I bought a lovely little pie pumpkin, too, and some chestnuts, but mostly apples. Longtime readers may recall that, back in the early-to-mid 2000s, I used to post regularly about my then-local farmers market, and my September and October posts were frequently inventories of heirloom apples. My current location is not as good for apples; I've found a couple of places that grow some of my favorite varietals, including Wealthy and Haralson, but if I'm buying local I don't have many options. So it was lovely, and a little overwhelming, to visit this market and suddenly have a lot of options.
I ended up with half a bag of Wolf River and a bag each of Keepsake and Winesap. Wolf River isn't ideal for fresh eating, but it makes a spectacular baked apple and works very well in apple crisp (which is usually what I do with it). Keepsake is an excellent keeper, as the name suggests; it's a cross of Malinda with my beloved Northern Spy, with Malinda's sweetness just barely offset by Northern Spy's tartness, which makes it a breakfast apple for me. The Winesaps are beautiful -- small, as they generally are, and a striking dark burgundy color -- and perfect for fresh eating: sweet and tart at the same time, firm-fleshed and crunchy.
I drove home on winding county highways at the peak of fall color, reveling in the last hours of a few days away, singing along to Jeffrey Foucault: Iowa in the springtime throws shadows on the ground / where the Mississippi River follows the railways down... Home through the early afternoon, and then the late afternoon, and then the gathering dusk, home to my own little town surrounded by farmland, juice on my chin and fingers, apples on the seat beside me.
Originally posted at Dreamwidth || Read
comments on Dreamwidth