Story of an Apple: Arkansas Black

Arkansas Black is an heirloom apple that originated in Benton county, Arkansas.  Quite possibly raised in the orchard of Mr. Brathwaite, the first fruit was harvested around the year 1870.  In some cases Arkansas Black has erroneously been listed as identical to the variety simply known as Arkansas, due to the similarity in name and origin, when in fact the trees and fruit bear little resemblance  to each other.  Unlike the Arkansas, which is commonly accepted to be a seedling of Winesap, the parentage of Arkansas black is less certain although it is suggested that the Arkansas Black also has Winesap among it's ancestors.  The name for the variety comes from the fruits deep red hue, which when ripe can appear almost black.

Arkansas Black, Cornell Orchards, taken beginning of September.  Color becomes significantly darker prior to harvest in late October.

 S.A. Beach in The Apples of New York describes the Arkansas Black as "one of the most beautiful apples."  He goes on to say, "It is a good keeper and commands a good price in market."  The variety was a popular cultivar in parts of Arkansas and Missouri during the last part of the 19th century.  During this period it is believed that Arkansas Black may have comprised up 10 to 15 percent of the apples grown in the state of Arkansas.  In the first decades of the 20th century, Codling Moth infestations, drought and the economic decline of the Depression all took their toll on the Arkansas apple industry, which never recovered.  Since then Arkansas Black has been grown in many regions of the united states, mostly in small quantities as an antique variety, used primarily for cooking and cider. More recently it has begun to make it's way into the commercial market.  The other day I found it at my local food cooperative, the first time I have seen it for sale outside of an orchard or the farmer's market. 

In the orchard the variety has shown some resistance to Apple Scab and Fireblight, as well as a strong resistance to Cedar Apple Rust.  It is a good bearer, although a poor pollinator.  It is harvested here in New York in late October or early November and will keep for many months in storage.  

Warmer Days Ahead

The winter season is often a time to hunker down, do some good reading and thoughtful contemplation.  Reflect on the year gone by and plan for the coming seasons.  It is also a time to take a trip to warmer climates, for some of us lucky enough to find the time and means to to travel.  For the next few weeks I will be taking a hiatus from the blog and from the blustery weather of central New York, to travel again to Mexico and Guatemala.  To be honest, this hiatus may go largely unnoticed, being as I have not been as active in posting on my blog as I had imagined I would be in the slower winter months.  My apologies.

New York Winter

In other news, I have been giving a lot of thought to the coming spring even if the days are still short and there are still apples in the cellar.  I have been scheming with a few friends and planning a small orchard of sorts to be planted this coming spring on some land just outside of Ithaca.  With the wheels in motion, I have ordered a small number of dwarfing and semi-dwarfing rootstocks on which I hope to graft my first apple trees.  The whole process from the graft point up will be a huge learning experience.  Much of it is still in the planning and researching stages, but I am still excited to think ahead to sloppy March thaws and May blossoms.   

The Golden Apple Part III a.k.a. Goldrush

Unlike my first two posts about the golden apple, this is not a story of mythology, but rather one of a tangible fruit.  The Goldrush apple is a product of nature, but also of science, more specifically of apple breeding, which has been  the source of many new apple varieties over the past century.  Unlike the Baldwin, McIntosh or Red Delicious, which all originated as chance seedlings, the Goldrush is the progeny of several existing varieties including Rome, Golden Delicious and a variety of crab apple, which were all intentionally crossed and recrossed over a series of generations to eventually yield what would become the Goldrush. 

The Goldrush Family Tree from: http://www.hort.purdue.edu/newcrop/pri/coop38-3.html

All of these crosses were performed by the Purdue, Rutgers and Illinois (PRI) breeding program, which developed the Goldrush as part of their ongoing attempt to breed scab resistant apple varieties.

Almost all of the varieties released by PRI under this breeding program, which include Enterprise, Redfree and Goldrush among others, contain a single scab resistant gene V_f derived from Malus floribunda, a species of crab apple.  The original tree that bore what would become Goldrush apples was planted in 1973 on the Purdue Horticulture Research Farm in West Lafayette, Indiana.  It was one of many trees that were planted with seeds resulting from a cross between a Golden Delicious as the seed parent and a variety known as Co-op 17 as the pollen parent.  Its official location on the farm was in block HE row 4, tree 16.  In October 1980 the tree was selected for further testing under the name Co-op 38.  Not until 1994 was the variety finally released to growers under the name Goldrush.  

Because of it's scab resistance, Goldrush is a good variety for organic growers, who often struggle to control scab in varieties that do not have the built-in genetic resistance.  I had not heard the name until this fall when I picked at Cornell Orchards.  During conversations about the picking season, Goldrush would often be mentioned as the variety that marked the end of the season, the final apple to be picked, often in the cold, sometimes snowy days of early November.  Like many late season apples, Goldrush are particularly good keepers, often needing additional time in storage to fully ripen.  In fact, several people I have spoken to, do not recommend biting into a Goldrush until at least a month after they have been picked.

I chose them as one of a few varieties to store in my basement for the winter months.  My basement, although cooler than the house, is not a true cellar by any stretch of the imagination.  I have found it takes truly good keepers to stand the test of time with my storage methods.  Today I dug out a Goldrush to test the flavor and texture.  Although it was slightly soft to the touch, when cut open the texture of the flesh was firm and amazingly crisp with no mealiness.  It tasted strikingly sweet, yet there was a distinct zing hidden in the complex flavors.  Of the storage varieties I have encountered this is one of my favorites.  We will see how it holds up in February or March, but for now I can say this apple excited my taste buds and added a little sweetness to a cold and very snowy December day.

First Snow

Winter's first snow is always a thing of excitement for me.  Like the sight of the first Robin or the taste of my first apple, I feel as though it serves to mark the season.  This past week the flurries and flakes flew in the Finger Lakes region, blanketing the ground with a dusting some places and up to a few feet in others. 
After a few weeks back in Wisconsin for an extended Thanksgiving visit with family and friends, I returned to Ithaca last weekend.  With flurries in the air this past week, I also returned to the orchard to help with some fencing work.  

Slowly, over the past several years, the orchard has been replacing the archaic chain-link fence that has surrounded the Lansing orchard since before the first trees were planted.  November and December are usually the only months slow enough at the orchard to allow for time to build the fence and that is only if there is not too much snow on the ground to prevent the tractors to from getting around the orchard.
So this week, with highs only in the mid-twenties, I dug out my long underwear and fleece-line boots and headed out to the fence line.
The trees in the orchard are almost all bare.  Here and there a few leaves still cling, mostly on the later varieties like the Ida Red and Gold Rush.  The trees left naked, dozing off for their winter sleep, appear so much smaller than they did in their full regalia.  Those that seemed to tower above you in October now have a more modest reach towards the sky.  The fallen, half rotten apples still show their rosy cheeks through the dusting of snow upon the ground.  The apples missed by the picking crew, those camouflaged by the leaves, now hang like forgotten ornaments on the tree.  The Golden Delicious, which were so well hidden a few months ago now stand out in stark contrast to the dark branches and snow the flies through the air and blankets the ground.
Building fence is not something that can be rushed.  Stretching three hundred and thirty feet of ten-foot tall wire mesh, requires close attention to detail in order to maintain proper tension and work out any kinks that form as the fence conforms to the contours of the land.  The key is finding ways to keep warm, moving as much a possible.  Taking breaks for a cup of tea or hot chocolate never hurts either.

After Apple Picking

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 rub the strangeness from my sight
I got from looking through a pane of glass
I skimmed this morning from the drinking 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 disappear,
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.
I feel the ladder sway as the boughs bend.

And I keep hearing from the cellar bin
The 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.

                                                                                            -Robert Frost