Autumn is gracefully drawing in, the leaves are starting to fall and there is a whisper of coolness in the air. Harvest is upon us. An abundance of fruit and vegetables appear, plump and blushing from the summer sunshine. Exciting times. The last of the summer produce surrenders while the autumn’s offerings appear. Immediately when I think of this time of year I think of apples, both ordinary and extraordinary in character. British apple season, for me, is wonderful. This fruit makes me happy on so many levels, evoking many different memories. I close my eyes and eat a bite of a crisp fiery red Cox’s Orange Pippin, this takes me to many places, both food related and un-food related. Isn’t it incredible how food is so connected with memories? Just the whiff of a familiar food and we’re stroked with a feeling, or hit with a flashback of a certain place, person or time. Quite incredible, it just shows one of the many magical powers of food. So yes, back to the bite of the Cox (ahem, excuse me).
1st bite; it makes me I wince and my eyes flicker with the shock of the sour fruit, I remember the Bramley apple tree in our jungle of a garden, beautifully craggy with huge irregular fruit weighing down the branches. My brother Zac is climbing the tree throwing the crisp green apples down to us. Once we’ve gathered as many as we can we will make mince meat for mince pies to sell in our shop, we will also make crumble (I will also make apple sauce and will accidentally put cumin in it instead of cinnamon as a result of reading the packet wrong. I am young. Irma says we will eat it with pork instead of having it with cream and shortbread, pheww!). And we will give some to our neighbours, Jane makes mean chutneys.
Bite number 2; I am transported to the beginning of the school year with a crisp uniform and a new set of pens, refreshed from the summer holidays, although sad it’s over.
Bite number 3; Takes me to my best friend India’s orchard in Wales, those apples were the best, they weren’t Cox’s, in fact they were most probably Discovery’s (I can hear India shouting at the screen now, ‘they weren’t discoveries you silly!’). Beaming with an almost fuschia exterior that penetrated right the way through the skin and into the flesh (yes that’s right, pink fleshed apples!!) were just the best thing ever. Sweet and sour in perfect proportion, an almost strawberry-like perfume. India loved them so much, once she even took a gigantic sack of them to the bouncers at Fabric nightclub in London as a treat!
Okay, bite 4; it’s October and it’s my birthday, the sunshine is beating down and the air is crisp and fresh. I feel special, excited and these days slightly odd, weirded out by the fear of being that little bit older. But I do love birthdays; any excuse to get together for a party with my friends is welcomed with enthusiastically open arms. It’s almost Halloween, a vision of a pumpkin pops into my head, followed by a bag of sweets.
Bite 5; I’m working in a café in Blackheath called Handmade Food and I’m assembling a cake for the shop front. This cake is my own recipe, to my pleasure they call it Dixie’s Spiced Apple Cake. A lightly spiced sponge filled with Chantilly cream, poached apples and a thick silky muscavado butterscotch sauce slathered over the top with oozy dribbles escaping down the side. Yes, a proud mum moment. I pat myself on the back.
Bite 6; I’m walking on crispy leaves in Chippenham Park, the satisfying crunch makes me smile. Now I’m wading through the colossal pile they have swept up next to the trees, knee high we kick about the leaves ruthlessly.
Bite 7; It’s almost gone. It’s that time of year again, autumn, and it’s dark. The nights are drawing in early and I’m wrapped up in a warm coat. Chloe and me are walking; we get to the car park, spray ourselves with impulse and pop a chewing gum into our mouths to get rid of the cigarette smell. We part ways and I get to my house. I unlock the door, walk through the closed empty shop and run up the stairs. The house is warm and my cheeks are glowing.
Bite 7; I eat the core whole except for the woody bit at the top. I know you’re not supposed to. They say apple pips have arsenic in them but they taste like marzipane so I don’t care, it also seems like such a waste not to eat the whole lot.
It is fun to reminisce and let one ingredient or dish take you on a little memory journey. That’s the power of food right there, and I love it.
The Photograph above is my poached apples with hazelnut baklava. Recipe coming soon.
Food Memories; Apples was originally published on Aphrodites