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Apples are the best of the fall fruits. Pears are good, but not as popular — or versatile — as apples.
No one ever says, “. . . as American as pear pie.” Pomegranates are kind of cool and funky, but Eve wasn’t tempted with a pomegranate.
Cranberries are OK, but not very practical outside of the holiday condiment tray.
Apples are the Mac Daddy of the season. Don’t believe me? Check out the produce section at your local grocery store. Do you see 27 different varieties of figs? No. It’s all about the apple.
I was in South Carolina a few weeks ago and stopped by a roadside stand that was located in the middle of a large apple orchard on the side of a hill near a National Forest. The apples had just been picked.
I bought a few bags of several varieties. They were among the best apples I have ever eaten.
In many ways, apples are one of nature’s most perfect foods. They’re durable, compact, easy to clean, easy to eat, they’re sweet, yet tart, full of fiber, and eating one a day might be the solution to our nation’s health care problem.
Apples take me back to my youth. I always get a little reflective around this time of year, as the days in and around Halloween have such strong ties to my childhood.
While trick or treating, my brother and I weren’t allowed to accept apples. No apples, no oranges. My mother’s edict didn’t bother me at all. In those days I would have scoffed at the homeowner who passed out fruit instead of candy.
Even in the safe haven and open-door neighborhoods of the late 1960s and early 1970s, our mothers warned us, “Don’t take apples from anyone. There was a man who once put a razor blade in an apple, and a little boy ate it and died.” Urban legend or not, I was all about the candy.
The school Halloween carnivals of my youth were filled with apples. We even bobbed for apples — possibly the worst school event, ever. The same moms who encouraged us to take candy over fruit invented apple bobbing. There’s nothing less sanitary than a few hundred sweaty and dirty elementary school kids during cold and flu season submerging their heads under water to grab an apple with their teeth.
Now, candied apples or caramel apples, that’s a different story. As a kid, I could eat my weight in caramel apples.
In the 1970s, caramel apples were everywhere. At bake sales set up on rickety card tables in the hallway of my junior high school, at the mall in the same store that sold caramel-coated popcorn, and at Halloween carnivals. If poster board and a set of magic markers were present, there was sure to be a caramel apple somewhere in the vicinity
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