Feast on the Apple, Love Happens When You Toss the Core
A story of two golden apples
Chef curls the long, juicy, exquisitely shaved apples in espresso cups and bakes them till tender.
On the plate, naturally sweet almond cream snuggles up to the warm fruit, tempting, and melting. Hazelnut crumbles and salted caramel ice-cream exhilarate the ensemble. Fairy-airy dashes of baked honey dance with forbidden passion, romance permeating, embraced in time. An apple fantasy.
These reels of apples wind like the routes of apple seeds that once traveled from Central Asia to Europe and the Americas, from the heavenly mountains of Tian Shan to East Asia and Australia, and back. The seeds passed through the Roman Empire, Mongol Empire, Ottoman Empire, and whatever empires were on the human timeline. Like humans who’ve been migrating since millenniums ago. All back into one.
Little replaces apples for their possibilities and endurance.
In gene banks, seeds are sacred. Those scientists had chosen to starve to death during the Siege of Leningrad in 1941–1944 to spare the seeds — apple seeds included. They did what they could to protect food species in preventing future famine. They defended the apples with their lives.
I often wonder if all living things migrate eventually to improve the species, as nature intends. Malus sieversii, the “Eve” of all apple species at the foothill forests of the snow-capped Tian Shan did not trap itself in Kazakhstan. Travelers along the Silk Roads tossed eaten apple cores that sprang into fertile trees. Westerly winds made sure seeds of multiple breeds cross-pollinate. Today, 30,000 varieties of apples survive worldwide. 30,000 flavors and textures.
Lord Google (I borrowed that term) would tell you instantly: We say “as American as apple pie”, but of 2500 apple varieties in the US, only crab apples are native to North America. We don't use crab apples for pies.
Who came from where now?
Scientists say we’re from the mitochondrial Eve. DNA tests found Caucasian blood in Chinese descendants in Western China from way back when. Sure, we’ve migrated throughout the globe and acquired various skin colors to suit the climate. And returned to cross-pollinate. Somewhat like the apples, or vice versa.
Meanwhile, in another restaurant, Chef carefully twirls a tool round the apple dim sum pastry shell. Always in a circle. A perfect bite-size. Ommmm…The chocolate stem and a single mint leaf complete the imagination for an apple.
Oriental virtues, they say, are wrapped. Like pearls in oysters. Dumplings, if you will.
And so it is, one bite into the flaky crust and warm, yielding apple yoke, my eyes need to close to immortalize this most fuzzy of senses.
And so it is, warmed and elated, I step into the gentle sun in a mild southeastern winter.
So it is.
© Pseu Pending (Seu) 2022
