An apple a day

In an effort to stay healthy through the fall and winter, I eat an apple a day every day. I peel and slice an apple in the late afternoon for a wholesome tide-me-over, or in the evening for a guilt-free finish to dinner. The nutrients should do me good.

The challenge: To transition from the summer produce I'd gotten used to, to go beyond the Red Delicious and Golden Delicious eaten in the past without a second thought and seek varieties I had not tasted, to satisfy a curiosity about other apples currently available.

At the neighborhood market, I collect enough fruit to last a week. They go into the refrigerator. The Jonagold, its skin yellow and green with tinges of red, crosses a Jonathan and a Golden Delicious. It is sweet and crunchy, an auspicious start to my apple adventure.

But the Fuji I try next is a tad tart. The Gala is also slightly tart. Are they supposed to be? I wonder. Is that typical?

The Braeburn, on the other hand, resembling a Golden Delicious, reminds me again how terrific apples can be - like candy, only better. The Rome Beauty is smooth and round, too; its skin is a rich, gorgeous red, its flesh yellow with bits of pink. On looks alone, I am smitten.


On a slow afternoon, I think to bake. In Joie Warner's "Apple Desserts: America's Favorite Fruit," I find instructions for dumplings and tarts, cookies and cakes, pies and crumbles, but settle, as I often do, on Apple Oat Squares. They sandwich thin slices of fruit between layers of oatmeal.

When I visited a friend in London years ago, I baked a batch to bring along, storing the squares in plastic containers to carry onto the plane. At her door the first night, I showed up with Apple Oat Squares. She seemed happy to see me. She seemed happier to see the food.

In my kitchen that afternoon, I combine quick oats, flour, baking soda, salt, brown sugar and melted butter to form the so-called crust. For the filling, I scatter cinnamon and sugar over slivers of Granny Smith apple. I press half the oatmeal mixture into the bottom of a glass pan, and top it with fruit and the rest of the oatmeal.

Nearly an hour later, the Apple Oat Squares come out of the oven golden brown, crumbly and slightly crunchy. Eaten warm with a scoop of vanilla ice cream or a dollop of Cool Whip, they are delectable.


In the produce section of the Berkeley Bowl, among the largest in the Bay Area, I come across apple varieties I have not even heard of.

The Pink Lady is a little tart. One bite and I shiver. Its skin, yellow and green with a soft red hue, blushes without meaning to. It smiles discreetly.

The Sierra Beauty tastes like a mildly tart Golden Delicious. Its appearance, though, is like no apple I have seen before. Yellow, pink and orange, it recalls a luscious sunrise over distant mountains, an establishing scene in a movie.

Looking like a Fuji, the Christmas apple seems to suit its seasonal moniker. Its sweet, crunchy texture can be a gift in and of itself. Also somewhat resembling a Fuji, the Pacific Rose proves especially crisp. Any crisper and it could be mistaken for an Asian pear, the kind my mother used to buy in Chinatown.


I contemplate a road trip to Apple Hill, east of Sacramento and Placerville. Vague on details of a visit years ago, I have been hoping to return.

At applehill.com, I discover buckets of information. Formed in 1964 as a marketing vehicle for a group of 16 ranches in Camino, the Apple Hill Growers Association consists of roughly 50 orchards, wineries, a microbrewery, Christmas tree farms and a spa.

It sponsors local events and fundraisers. It runs complimentary shuttle buses to nearby farms. It publishes guides, maps and community cookbooks, too.

I locate facts on Larsen Apple Barn, apparently the oldest continuously family-owned and operated farm in El Dorado County. I come across mentions of Mill View Ranch on Cable Road and its apple cider doughnuts, and Mother Lode Orchards.

I learn of Denver Dan's on Bumblebee Lane, which grows varieties such as Pippin, Gravenstein, Crispin and McIntosh, apples about which I have been curious. I learn also of Honey Bear Ranch, whose bakeshop, like many of its neighbors, puts out an impressive array of desserts.

Perhaps I'll collect food along the way as I venture from one farm to the next. When I need a break, I can claim a picnic spot at Abel's Apple Acres or High Hill Ranch, amid acres of trees and meandering walkways, and think about how far I've come.


When a younger brother started high school years ago, I packed him lunches that included a ham or turkey sandwich, a serving of cookies, a box of juice and a small apple. When he returned home in the late afternoon, the sandwich had been eaten. The cookies and juice were gone, too. But the apple remained.

There wasn't time, he said, to finish all his food. Day after day, week by week, the same thing happened. Eventually I realized it was an excuse.

Working full-time, commuting thrice weekly in the early evenings to a college 30 miles away for her master's, an older sister reached for something nutritious before class, something she could eat with one hand on the steering wheel. She decided, of course, on apples.

After long days in the office and hard nights in the classroom, she had little energy to spare. The stress and fatigue were immense, she said. The weekend she graduated, she stopped eating apples.


In time, I, too, grow tired of my apples, of searching for different varieties, whether down the street or up the highway; of having to peel and slice them at the kitchen counter, tossing scraps into the compost bin; of eating them at the table, feeling delighted yet slightly deprived.

I've had Jonagolds and Braeburns, Rome Beauties and Pink Ladies. But I have yet to try Winesaps, Jonathans, Cortlands and York Imperials, varieties about which I remain curious. I've had crisp apples and tart apples, crunchy apples and sweet apples. But they make up just a fraction of all the apples out there.

What I need then is a breather, I say, and a pledge to taste more in the future. I will revisit the apples I met recently and keep my eyes open for those I've not had - Empire, Honey Crisp, Jazz and Arkansas Black.

Meanwhile, I can begin to shift my attention to citrus. I had forgotten how much I liked oranges - navel oranges and Valencia oranges. I will snack on them. I will collect tangerines, mandarins and tangelos, too. They should be sweet and juicy. The Vitamin C will do me good. The change should suit me fine.

(A version of this essay appeared originally in The Oakland Tribune.)


Apple Oat Squares
from Joie Warner's "Apple Desserts: America's Favorite Fruit"

1 1/2 cups quick-cooking rolled oats
1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1/4 tsp. baking soda
1/2 tsp. salt
1 cup packed brown sugar
3/4 cup (1 1/2 sticks) butter, melted
3 cups peeled, cored, thinly sliced Granny Smith apples
1/2 tsp. ground cinnamon
1/4 cup sugar
2 Tbsp. butter

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F.

Stir oats, flour, baking soda, salt, brown sugar and melted butter in a large bowl until thoroughly combined. Press half the mixture evenly into bottom of a 9-inch square baking pan.

Toss apples, cinnamon and sugar in a bowl, then spread evenly in pan; dot with butter. Sprinkle with remaining oat mixture and bake for 45 minutes or until golden. Cool and cut into squares. Makes 9 to 10 servings.

Mooncake marketing

Sienna Parulis-Cook writes for The Atlantic about Chinese mooncakes, traditional sweets eaten during the Mid-Autumn Festival.

To quote:

"Older people often complain that children do not appreciate mooncakes the way they used to, but the mooncake companies are finding ways to solve this problem, too. This year marked the introduction of Barbie mooncakes in Shanghai, where the $57 deluxe box comes with a Barbie doll. Mooncakes may also come bearing images of cartoon characters like Snoopy or Hello Kitty..."

It is a timely piece. And though I am partial to lotus seed paste-filled mooncakes from Eastern Bakery on Grant Avenue in San Francisco, I think it would be a total trip to spy Snoopy- and Hello Kitty-themed mooncakes in the stores.