There was a time, believe it or not, when apples were very much in vogue. Victorians, surely at a point of replete after a multi-course meal, would break out the fruit – dessert would not be so much a case of cheese and wine, but Gascoyne’s Scarlet and Laxton’s Superb, served in a silver bowl and polished to show off their red, green and yellow hues. Diners would be conversant about the fruit, as their dinner-talk might suggest.
Working my way through a haul of late season Idared, Collina and Red Falstaff from the local farmers’ market recently, I can more than understand why. Flavours are more complex and diverse than the simple sweetness or acidity prevalent in Cox or Gala. Incredibly seasonal, too (a tree’s entire yield of Collina apples, for example, might drop from the tree in one day), as discerning eaters of the fruit will tell you. And with an enthusiasm not commonly shared by people regarding themselves keen pursuers of taste, let alone popular retailers. So how did we end up here?
‘I think it’s about what the customer’s aware of,’ says Max Fane, sales and marketing manager of Chegworth Valley. ‘There could be some fantastic varieties out there, but the problem is people will never pick them up.’ You know what we’re talking about – supermarkets hard-wired with sterility, where there’s nary a grain of dirt on a carrot or a suggestion of plumage on a chicken wing. It’s where food is made to look in such a way that it doesn’t remind you where it came from.