The Apple of My Eye
Oh joy. Oh bliss.
I grew up in Kelowna BC. At that time fruit growing was the heart and soul of the town. I grew up around and in orchards, and my first jobs were picking fruit.
So I believed that I knew what made a good apple.
Oh my God. I was so wrong. This apple was grown in France, purchased in France, and gobbled down in pure delight and amazement. There has never been an Okanagan apple that is remotely close to this fruit.
The texture. The taste. The smell. Everything about it is just divine.
And everything that I have been told about Kelowna apples is pure nonsense.
This is what an apple should be.
When we returned from France, it took MONTHS before we could enjoy food here again. We purchased organic from the stores or, when available, straight from the market or local farmers. It didn't matter. It was all, I am filled with sorrow to say, a smacking disappointment. In time, we took to understand that a good.portion of it was the difference in soil content/nutrients, the sun's position and length of hours, obviously the growth season and temperatures, even and perhaps especially the heritage of the seed itself in relation to all the above. Though the Okanagan may grow some of the finest fruit in Canada, it's simply that; the finest fruit "in Canada".
Another thing we adored there versus here was the love that seemed to go into the preparation of the food, no matter if it was the butcher, the farmer, the restauranteur, the vineyard or more. There is pride in food there. When we arrived back home, even the plated content of 5 star restaurants seemed unimaginably brown!
I'm living vicariously through you, dear souls. The sights, the flavours, the guidelines! Ah but what visions a writer prepares for the palate of the eye!