Apple trees are so generous and right now they are throwing tons of apples on the ground for any comer. Islanders deliberately planted some of these trees long ago. By now many have acquired statuesque proportions, and largely unattended, produce apples of remarkably good quality. Creatures planted some accidentally, skinny ones stuck in woods or on the edge of fields, weedy looking, with sparse, unthrifty foliage. Most of them make undistinguished apples, most commonly here, a small, yellowish apple with little flavor.
So much fruit benefits so few people. What a pity. On our island and almost anywhere along the coast these days, the deer are the most likely comers. They eat them directly off the ground without bothering to make pie or crisp. Little wonder we have more deer than humans on island.
A few people, myself included, have scouted out favorite trees and collect certain apples with known qualities, like suitability for baking or storing. Our neighbor across the road knows a tree whose apples taste better after a couple of months off the tree. By custom, some people have picking privileges in certain yards. Other trees grow along roads where anyone can grab apples before they are mashed beneath tires. Others grow in abandoned orchards where islanders conduct harvesting in time-honored off-season trespass.
Because I don’t know their proper names (like Wealthy, Sheep’s Nose, Greening, etc.), I call the trees after their owner or location. Roberta’s, Yvette’s, Dark Harbor, Bunker’s, Brewer’s and Nancy’s. Roberta’s are large, soft, sweet and must be used right away. The Dark Harbors are very dark red, and keep fairly well, but not as well as Yvette’s. Brewer’s are tasty but small and if we are going to make sweet cider, we go shake that tree.
While fruit is sometimes hard to grow without recourse to sprays, many island apple trees produce beautiful fruit: not necessarily with movie star perfect skin, but with the occasional blemish, like the moles or age spots we see on the beloved faces of our friends and neighbors. It’s what lies below the skin that we value, depth, character, sweetness, tartness, sometimes even a certain gnarly side.
The horticulture classes pruned some of the older trees growing in the yards of year-rounders. The students took to the pruning work enthusiastically, mostly, truth be known, so that they could spend class time outdoors. Who cares? They have learned a valuable skill to use all their days and old trees with branches lightened of excess wood, opened to the sun, rewarded the attention with greater productivity.
Settlers in New England waited as many as twenty years for a decent apple harvest. Imagine growing up eating apples, moving to a frontier, cutting down a forest then waiting two decades to sink your teeth into the crisp skin of a fresh apple. So much for apple pie at the first Thanksgiving or apples in Pilgrim mincemeat.
Jamie and I planted a standard Baldwin in 1991 and last year it made enough apples for one pie. This year there might be two pies on that tree. Deer wiped out others planted at the same time, and this tree has been evenly venison-pruned along the lower branches as if a giant hedge clipper appeared in the night to even it up with the lower branches of all the rest of the vegetation on the property.
There is little question in my mind that extant island apple trees could supply the island year round with pies, applesauce, apple butter, sweet cider and out-of-hand eating. We could make hard cider, apple wine and apple brandy. There are enough that we could finish fattening up a few pigs on the leftovers, too. So why do we not gather them up?
Well, they require attention. They require sorting according to which will keep for a while, which have bruises and must be eaten soon. Some must be used right away because they have rotten spots and bird pecks; some must be peeled, and rotting spots cut out. Island grown apples require work while the ones from the stores which come from the West Coast, South America, China, or some other place half-way around the globe require merely washing, coring, slicing. That’s it. It is a matter of convenience really.
The apparently free apples that our trees offer us for the taking come with the price tag of some added effort. Most of us decline. It seems ungracious in the face of such generosity.
Three easy things to do with apples:
Make a splendid breakfast of apples cored, and sliced thickly and cooked, turned once, on a fry pan with breakfast sausage.
Roll out a single pie crust and place on a baking sheet. Core and slice 2-3 apples (peeling optional and only as needed) and toss with brown sugar, cinnamon, and lemon juice, if needed. Pile the apples in the center of the crust, fold the edges of the pastry up over the apples, leaving it open in the center. Bake at 400° until the crust is golden.
Select the nicest apples, and leaving them whole, core them (a melon baller works beautifully for this). Fill the cores with raisins, butter, a little sugar, and cinnamon. Set into a baking dish and bake at 375° until the apples are tender and begin to split their skins. Serve hot or cold, with plain cream or ice cream, or neither.
Sandy Oliver is a food historian and food writer who lives and grows food sustainably on Islesboro.