The Anatomy of Dessert: With a Few Notes on Wine (Modern Library Food)
ApplesNo fruit is more to our English taste than the Apple. Let the Frenchman   have his Pear, the Italian his Fig, the Jamaican may retain his   farinaceous Banana, and the Malay his Durian, but for us the Apple.In a careful pomological study of my fellow-men I have met but one who   really disliked apples, but as he was a Scotsman born in Bavaria,   educated in England, domiciled in Italy, he is quite obviously ruled   out.What fruit can compare with the Apple for its extended season, lasting   from August to June, keeping alive for us in winter, in its sun-stained   flush and rustic russet, the memory of golden autumnal days?Through all the seven ages of man it finds a welcome, and we now learn   that not only does it keep the doctor from our doors but ourselves from   the dentists.Is there any other edible which is at once an insurance, a pleasure,   and an economy?Before discussing the best dessert apples let us dismiss the popular   error that a single test is sufficient for a fair judgement of a fruit.   Often one hears the phrase, “I tasted so-and-so and did not think much   of it.” Flavour depends much upon the season, and many varieties   require a really hot summer to develop their highest qualities. The   Reinettes, such as Blenheim Orange, Cox’s Orange, Orleans Reinette, and   most of the russets, have their vintage years, of which 1921 will   remain long in the memory. All varieties, too, have their optimum   moment of aroma and also of acidity. A Cox’s in October is a little too   acid, but as the acid gradually fails, the aromatic ethers develop, and   the end of November and early December see them at their height. It   then slowly declines, very slowly if properly stored, and even in May,   after a sunny summer, it is still worthy.To Mr. Cox, a retired brewer, we owe this “good creature,” as Mr.   Saintsbury would call it, and we can picture the scene at Colnbrook   Lawn, Slough, in 1825. Mrs. Cox would have drawn up her chair by the   fire, the evenings are turning a little chilly, while Mr. Cox, who   dines at four, is lingering over his port and dessert.“Ah, my dear, now this is what I call a good apple. Yes, yes, very   good.”“Pray, is it one of your old seedlings?” says Mrs. Cox, always a little   scornful of home productions.“On the contrary, it is one of my new ones.”“Ah well, I don’t see how it can be better than a Ribston.”The firelight plays on the cut-glass decanter, and a slight reflection   answers on Mr. Cox’s nose, as he smiles his wise old man’s smile and   thinks how women are all alike—and so a great moment in history slips   by.But perhaps Mr. Cox was a bachelor. . . .There is in the Apple a vast range of flavours and textures, and for   those who adventure in the realm of taste, a field for much hopeful   voyaging.The nomenclature of flavour is more scanty than even that of colour.   How can we describe a fruit as of high flavour when this adjective by   long use has gained a special significance as applied to game? All   pomologists have felt this difficulty, the German with his süsser   Geschmack, the native of France with his use of parfumée, vineuse,   etc., and our own eighteenth-century writers whose phrase, a “delicate   haut gust,” though it charms the ear, conveys little to the mind. We   must fall back, therefore, on the fruits themselves, and try to discern   some genera of flavours, a gustatory classification.First we must rule out the merely sweet or sour, these are not flavours   though important adjuncts. Acidity for culinary fruits is of primary   importance, as it is to this that their capacity for turning soft is   due; those varieties which cook only to a woody texture can be brought   to a normal softness by the addition of an acid such as lemon juice.Much has been written against the “large sour apples” used generally   for cooking, and varieties which “provide their own sugar” recommended   in their stead. Every apple, however, is sour in its youth, and the   acid gradually disappears as ripening proceeds, taking, as is natural,   longer in late varieties than in the early. If, then, an apple is too   sour, it merely means that it has been used too early. It is perhaps   hardly necessary to point out that sourness tempered with sugar is not   the same as mere lack of acidity.In dessert apples it is noticeable that all the most esteemed sorts   have a good proportion of acid, and it is the blend of this sweetness   and flavour that renders them attractive, the merely “sweet” being as   nauseous as in human-kind.The right season to eat an apple is a matter of importance; to catch   the volatile ethers at their maximum development, and the acids and   sugars at their most grateful balance requires knowledge and   experiment. Many apples will keep far beyond their period of maximum   flavour, and in some this moment is so fleeting that they are hardly   worth growing; a week-end away from home might prove disastrous. Times   and seasons are therefore but rough guides to the correct moment;   experiment alone can decide. An incontinent friend eats his Ribstons   direct from the tree, and has at least convinced me that we do, in   fact, place too late a season for this admirable fruit. It should be   tested frequently after gathering, and will generally be found to be   best used before Cox’s come in in November.In flavours we can discern a few main groups, and the early apples   mostly have what has been called the Strawberry or Raspberry flavour,   Worcester Pearmain, Duchess of Oldenburgh, Emperor Alexander being   notable examples. The first-named fruit, however, must not be judged   from barrow or shop samples, which are usually gathered far before they   are ripe, and both in texture and flavour are to be passionately   avoided. The really ripe Worcester has character, and, though far from   the supreme heights, is in its season acceptable and the Raspberry   flavour distinctive.A second class will be the Blenheim flavour, a nutty, warm aroma which   is to my taste the real apple gust; in fact, I take a Blenheim as a   test case. The man who cannot appreciate a Blenheim has not come to   years of gustatory discretion; he probably drinks sparkling Muscatelle.   There is in this noble fruit a mellow austerity as of a great Port in   its prime, a reminder of those placid Oxford meadows which gave it   birth in the shadow of the great Palace of Blenheim. Like Oxford, too,   it adopts a leisurely pace, refusing to be hurried to maturity or to   relinquish its hold on life. An apple of the Augustan Age.What can Cambridge put by its side? Its thin and acid airs have   produced only a Histon Favourite, an apple of no period, indiscriminate   and undistinguished.The Blenheim qualities are shared by few, Orleans Reinette is its most   notable analogue. Similar in appearance with an added spice as of the   Ribston, this stands of all apples highest in my esteem. Much of its   Blenheim nuttiness is found in Egremont Russet, while Woodstock Pippin,   Ballinora, and a few others share its qualities in some degree.A third flavour group is that of the Russets which have a peculiar   “fennel” flavour; Brownlee’s Russet and Reinette Grise de St.-Ogne show   this in marked degree, while the French group of Fenouillets are named   from this special gust.The highly spiced flavour of Cox’s Orange stands as a type, and into   this group would come Ribston and Margil and a few of the Cox   descendants, such as St. Everard, Houblon, and Rival. Like all   classifications these divisions at once reveal their inadequacy when we   consider the outsiders so far unplaced. Where shall we put James Grieve   with its faint Cox flavour, Allington Pippin in whose “gelid pores” Mr.   Eden Phillpotts discerned pine and grape, “the scent of quince and   pear, breath of honey from the hive”?No! Genera and classes are a vanity and can be disproved at every turn,   but let them stand, critics must live.In the matter of textures matters go more smoothly. We can well   contrast the smooth, almost marrow-like flesh of James Grieve with the   crisp glassiness of May Queen, which breaks with a crack as you bite   it, the cassant or croquant flesh of French writers. The Russets when   fully ripe are soft, as is also the Blenheim, a grain suggesting   warmth, while the crisp-fleshed varieties taste distinctly colder. Cox   becomes quite soft, and yet not dry, in its later stages, and those   whose dental powers owe more to art than to nature, may well keep their   Cox’s till March. To the young, however, the crunch is the thing, a   certain joy in crashing through living tissue, a memory of Neanderthal   days. For them the Quarrendens and Kerry Pippins, which a far-seeing   Providence has ordained to ripen in the time of summer holidays.The need of care in selecting the right moment for each apple becomes   more urgent when we consider the early varieties, where this instant of   perfection has chosen to be with as great care as in the case of the   more temperamental Pear. The first apples, such as Gladstone, Irish   Peach, Feltham Beauty, should be eaten from the tree, or at any rate   not kept over till the next day, when they will be flat and   unprofitable. Of the three named, Irish Peach is to be preferred. Its   fresh acidity with slight spicy aroma accords well with the warm August   days. White Transparent, though usually cooked, is, at its brief   moment, commendable. When ripe it becomes a transparent ivory white and   the flesh is soft and yet full of juice. An acute writer has termed it   a “before breakfast apple,” and a tree handy to the house will not be ...