Each week, we’ll be sharing a comprehensive list of links to help you master something new in the kitchen -- or in the apple orchard. Culinary greatness, here you come.
Today: Everything you ever wanted to know about apples.
It’s that time again! Prepare to be inundated with borderline obsessive talk of all things fall, starting with apples. Does anything say September more than apple picking and apple pie? But don't stop there -- bake them in cake, purée them in soup, roast them into butter, preserve them in a shrub. Just make sure to read these links first.
• A peek inside the life of an apple, from orchard to market. (The Kitchn.)
• Do you know the best way to peel an apple? Now you do. (Food52.)
• Quickly identify different types of apples with this handy visual guide. (Epicurious.)
• Impress your friends at trivia night with these 10 little-known apple facts. (Food Republic.)
• You’ll need some help using up all those apples you overzealously picked the other day. Here are 10 recipes to get you started. (Food52.)
What do you want to read about next? Tell us in the comments!
Whether you're in the mood for some soup-simmering, leaf-peeping, or nothing at all, your dream weekend awaits...
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Written by: Lauren Kodiak
Popular on Food52
1 Comment
My long two-pointed ladder's sticking through a tree
Toward heaven still.
And there's a barrel that I didn't fill
Beside it, and there may be two or three
Apples I didn't pick upon some bough.
But I am done with apple-picking now.
Essence of winter sleep is on the night,
The scent of apples; I am drowsing off.
I cannot shake the shimmer from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the water-trough,
And held against the world of hoary grass.
It melted, and I let it fall and break.
But I was well
Upon my way to sleep before it fell,
And I could tell
What form my dreaming was about to take.
Magnified apples appear and reappear,
Stem end and blossom end,
And every fleck of russet showing clear.
My instep arch not only keeps the ache,
It keeps the pressure of a ladder-round.
And I keep hearing from the cellar-bin
That rumbling sound
Of load on load of apples coming in.
For I have had too much
Of apple-picking; I am overtired
Of the great harvest I myself desired.
There were ten thousand thousand fruit to touch,
Cherish in hand, lift down, and not let fall,
For all
That struck the earth,
No matter if not bruised, or spiked with stubble,
Went surely to the cider-apple heap
As of no worth.
One can see what will trouble
This sleep of mine, whatever sleep it is.
Were he not gone,
The woodchuck could say whether it's like his
Long sleep, as I describe its coming on,
Or just some human sleep.
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