This past weekend found us in Gravenstein apple country, near Sebastopol, where farmers cultivate small orchards and sell apples out of their driveways. We turned on the advice of a sign and drove along a back road until we found a truck full of apples next to a hand-lettered sign.
Unlike many apple varieties, Gravensteins don’t require freezing during the winter, so they grow happily in our climate, and they do fine in the cooler coastal areas. They’re cute apples, too, with a vivid green background and red dashes running along the longitude.
We bought a 15-pound box of organic from the grower for $1 a pound. He had suffered a disappointing crop, but he was selling what he could. A fungus had invaded the orchard in the fall and thrived all through the rainy winter. The fungus left marks on the apples, which he called “scab,” which is easily cut off, but makes the fruit harder to sell.
I hardly cared about the scab; the tart Gravensteins are cooking apples. They turn to mush almost immediately unless they’re refrigerated, which means that they melt into smooth, delicious applesauce and rich pie filling. I have a busy week ahead of me.
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My mother always added a touch of rum or brandy to her apple pies, which she topped with streudel, not a second crust. Probably a sop to my Jewish father. Anyway, I do the same, sometimes with Calvados. Just a thought.
ReplyDeleteI'd love to see more Gravensteins in the produce stores. We used to find them in our neighbors' backyards when we were kids in Oregon, and they've always been my favorites.
ReplyDeleteNalongo