We’re gonna have Weather (Whether Or Not)
When we’re faced with persistent overcast skies and significant cold rains that seem to drench an already saturated fall landscape, we start to get blue and wonder if it will ever end. Just when we begin to lose hope, the sun comes out, we bask in it, and we breath sighs of relief.
The sweet is never as sweet without the sour. An apple can deliver both at once, but with weather we must be patient and remember there is a rhythm. Sometimes the accent is downbeat, sometimes it’s upbeat; the best we can do is go with the flow and appreciate the sky and its current beat, whether blue or grey. Again, though, apples grant us both at once: you can enjoy your Blue Pearmain at the same time as your Grey Pearmain! Fruit is like music in that it feeds the soul and helps to move us through the storms of life.
Picks of the week:
(Click each variety for more info)
Blue Pearmain
Esopus Spitzenberg
Frostbite
Grey Pearmain
Grimes Golden
Ribston Pippin
Twenty Ounce
Not many things in nature can rival the spectacle of a new England hardwood forest on a fall day - or so I thought til I took a ride through the blueberry barrens west of Cherryfield last weekend. WOW. The field looked as if the most spectacular sunset had just fallen from the sky and painted itself across the landscape as far as I could see. This was color to rival a tropical reef, the birds of the rainforest, the Northern Lights and the dancers of Carnivale in Sao Paulo. The birch, maple and oak served as only a pale backdrop in contrast to the brilliant riot of hues expressed by the low-growing leaves. I was stunned.
But blueberries are not the only Maine crop to put on a show in the fall. The apples in your share this week will make their own color statement to compete for your attention as blue, green, carmine, yellow, gold, orange and purple tumble out of your share bags. We are very excited about these colorful apples; not only are they some of our favorites but two of the apples, Ribston Pippin and Esopus Spitzenberg, are in the CSA for the first time. These two old timers can claim a number of A-list fans dating back a few centuries including the likes of Charles Dickens, Herman Melville and Thomas Jefferson. And if two apples with literary ties in one CSA share are not enough, we’ve thrown in Blue Pearmain, a CSA staple, that H.D. Thoreau mentions in his most enjoyable work, Wild Apples.
Could this be the egg of the rare Esopus Spitzen-bird or of the illusive Blue Pear-Maine Jay?
Although the other four varieties in your share may not have risen to the same level of fame as their three peers, we think you will find them equally intriguing. Grey Pearmain and Frostbite are two unusual tasting dessert apples that we suspect may be having fruit-identity issues. The flavor in them definitely does not shout “apple”. If you haven’t tried them before, be prepared for a surprise. These varieties are definitely not for cooking. Grimes Golden is a delicious all-purpose fruit that excels anyway you want to use it. We love to see those yellow orbs hanging at the top of our tree in late fall. Finally at the bottom of the bag is the weighty Twenty Ounce. The flavor is pleasant for fresh eating, but the size screams out to be used in a pie.
We are also excited that three of the varieties that we offer this week are organically grown. It has been difficult in the past to produce enough fruit in our own orchard to keep up with the quantities needed for the CSA. This year, for the first time, we have been able to supply apples from Super Chilly Farm throughout the season, but this week is a record. So we are mentioning it here because you may notice that some of the apples in your share look a little rougher around the edges than you are used to seeing. While grocery store managers may view these fruit as “blemished”, we see them as perfect and we hope you will embrace their natural beauty as well. We have culled out the truly gnarly ones, but the scab, sooty blotch, fly speck and sawfly markings that decorate the skin of the apples in your bags should not affect their taste or texture. After all, beauty is only skin deep,
Our apples come to you straight from the tree, so, as with all fresh produce, please be sure to wash them thoroughly before eating. Some of the apples are grown using Integrated Pest Management by the orchards we collaborate with throughout Maine, and some are organically grown here on Super Chilly Farm.
Blue and Gray Pearmain - What’s in a Name?
Adapted and excerpted from Apples and the Art of Detection by John Bunker
Two of our favorite apples on the farm are Blue Pearmain and Gray Pearmain. Blue Pearmain has a vague but reasonably well-documented history; Gray Pearmain does not. Similar to Canadian Strawberry, Gray Pearmain is an apple with no reference point. Every so often, I’d spend time scouring the old books for information about Gray Pearmain, but I could find nothing. There are a few similar names, such as Great Pearmain, itself a synonym of Winter Pearmain. I've seen the one down at the Tower Hill Botanic Garden in Massachusetts, and it’s definitely not the Gray Pearmain we know in Maine. There’s a Gray Apple, synonym of Pomme Grise, a small ,very tasty russet: it’s delicious but nothing like Gray Pearmain. Another Gray Apple, synonym of McAfee, is a southern variety. No chance there. I found myself traveling down a smattering of dead ends.
What is a Pearmain, anyway? Where does it come from? What does it mean? There are many Pearmains listed in the old books. Beach mentions twenty-four in The Apples of New York. Robert Hogg lists fifty-nine Pearmains in his 1851 British Pomology. According to him, the oldest known variety was a Winter Pearmain, dating back to the year 1200.
The Pearmain typically grown in old New England orchards is Blue Pearmain, an old baking apple of uncertain origin, most likely from just west of Boston in Suffolk or Middlesex counties. The name Blue Pearmain seems to give everyone trouble up here in Maine; I’ve heard quite the assortment of variations over the years. Blue Pear Maine is evidently a native son, perhaps exhibiting Bosc-like overtones in its flavor profile. Blue Pomade comes from Sedgwick, and probably makes a tasty summer cider. Blue Pearamell is from along the Kennebec River. Maybe it refers to the hints of caramel when you bake it? Blue Pearamay from Readfield has a French flair to it. Maine Blue Pear was one that Russell Libby heard and passed along, another reference to Bartlett or Bosc, no doubt. My favorite though was one I heard some years ago: Painbear Bluemain.
The Oxford English Dictionary gives two definitions for Pearmain. Probably from old French, “An old variety of baking pear,” or “Any of several varieties of apple with firm white flesh.” The OED is usually spot-on with everything but when it comes to apples, I’m not impressed. None of the Pearmains are pears. They are all apples. Gray Pearmain does taste like a pear but the two other pearmains I know well, Adams Pearmain and Blue Pearmain, do not. And there are dozens of apple varieties with firm white flesh that are not called Pearmain.
The famous British pomologist, Robert Hogg, however, provides an explanation worthy of Sherlock himself. “Much doubt has existed as to the origin of this word…The earliest forms in which it was written, will be seen from the synonymes above, they were Pearemaine and Peare-maine. In some early historical works of the same period, I have seen Charlemagne written Charlemaine, the last portion of the word having the same termination as Pearemaine. Now, Charlemagne being derived from Carolus magnus there is every probability that Pearemaine is derived from Pyrus magnus. The signification therefore of Pearmain is the Great Pear Apple, in allusion, no doubt, to the varieties known by that name, bearing a resemblance to the form of a pear.”
I think Hogg was on the right track, but he could have gone one step further. Until well into the twentieth century, apples and pears were lumped together in the same genus. The common apple was Pyrus malus and the common pear was Pyrus pyrus. A Pyrus could therefore be an apple as well as a pear. We should assume that the pear in Pearmain is about Pyrus, but not necessarily about pears. Pearmains don’t need to resemble pears. A pearmain—Pyrus magnus—can simply be a great apple. Returning to the Oxford English Dictionary for a moment, they might not have been as wrong as they seem. If apples “with firm white flesh” were rare and considered superior, then maybe the OED is correct. Maybe firm, white fleshed varieties were wonderful, coveted great apples, worthy of the name “Great Apple,” or Pearmain.
But that brings us back to the yellow-fleshed Gray Pearmain? While Gray Pearmain is not pear-shaped, it does taste remarkably like a pear. Given that Charlemagne or Charlemaine had likely been more or less forgotten in central Maine by the time this apple came along, perhaps whoever named it used his or her own criteria. The oldest (and only old) Grey Pearmain trees I know of are growing at the Apple Farm in Fairfield. When the Meyerhan’s bought Wentworth’s Orchard in 1970, the Grey Pearmains were over 100 years old, meaning that they were likely planted right at the end of the Civil War. Blue Pearmain was a fixture in orchards throughout New England by then, including central Maine where it was commonly grown. So a farmer in Fairfield who discovered a new pear-tasting seedling apple might have thought that Maine needed a competing apple to celebrate the colors of the North. This new apple did have a sort of grayish tint to it. Let’s call it Gray Pearmain!
There were still five or six of the old Gray Pearmain trees when the Meyerhans took over Wentworth’s Orchard forty-five years ago and changed the name to The Apple Farm. They didn’t know anything about the story behind the apple, and though I continued to search I could find no word on its origin - until a couple of years ago when someone sent me a citation from the 1885 edition of the Agriculture in Maine annual report. A number of Maine growers donated apples to be sent down to New Orleans to the World’s Exposition, presumably as a promotion of Maine agriculture. Buried in the list of twenty-nine growers and dozens of apple varieties appears one line in reference to a C. A. Marston of Skowhegan:
“C. A. Marston, Skowhegan, one barrel: Northern Spy, Tompkins King, Gray Pearmain, Black Gilliflower.”
Just a trifle, but oh what a trifle! You can imagine my excitement when I read this line. It was, at last, confirmation that the Gray Pearmain is, more than likely, its very own variety. Not only that but it was grown—and most likely originated—within a few miles of the Apple Farm. In fact the Meyerhans’ orchards were originally in Skowhegan until they moved the town line years ago.
I’ve found no other citations, but one is enough. We can presume that C. A. Marston was an orchardist. His name was likely Charles. His family probably started, owned and operated The Marston Worsted Company of Skowhegan. He was an important figure in town, vice president of the Skowhegan and Norridgewock Railway and Power Co., member of the “committee of sewerage” as well as the school board. Most interesting, though, is that his home was at the intersection of Main Street and the Middle Road. This puts him on the south side of the Kennebec River within four miles of the Apple Farm. Maybe the apple originated in North Fairfield. Maybe it originated on the Meyerhan’s farm. I suppose we’ll never know.
Upcoming Apple Events
November 7: Portland Museum of Art Auditorium, 7 Congress Square, Portland, Maine - 6 PM. The Portland Museum of Art (PMA) and MOFGA welcome John Bunker as he shares his passion for Maine heritage apple varieties in this special talk. A reception follows with cider tastings of both hard cider and sweet cider made by local cider makers using Maine heritage apple varieties, as well as samples of apples from John's farm. $10 general admission, $5 for MOFGA and PMA members. FMI contact Lucy Cayard at lcayard@mofga.org. REGISTRATION
Recipe of the Week
The recent rains have knocked all our pears to the ground so lately the apple has had to defer to the pear in my kitchen. I was happy to come across this galette recipe in the NY Times that let me pair the two (sorry). The crust was flaky and so easy - you just dump the mixed dough into a piece of plastic wrap and squoosh it into a disc. After an hour of chilling, it was a breeze to roll out. I made two galettes with different pears (one firm and one soft) and couldn’t decide which I liked better. Neither could anyone else. They were really different, but both delicious. The recipe calls for a Bartlett pear, which is pretty bland, but since you slice it very thin, I imagine any pear will work. The galettes were fine without the sauce on them, in fact they were really good, but who doesn’t like salted caramel? A little drizzle moved this dessert into the winner category.
Apple-Pear Galette With Apple Cider Caramel
Ingredients
For the pastry:
1 cup all-purpose flour, plus more for the work surface
½ cup whole-wheat flour
2 TBS sugar
¾ tsp kosher salt
10 TBS cold unsalted butter (1 1/4 sticks), cut into pieces
4 TBS ice water
1 large egg, lightly beaten, for brushing
For the filling:
1 to 2 crisp apples, such as 20 oz., cored and very thinly sliced
1 to 2 just ripe pears, cored and very thinly sliced
⅓ cup packed dark brown sugar
1 TBS cornstarch
¾ tsp freshly grated lemon zest
¼ tsp ground cinnamon
2 TBS unsalted butter, cut into pieces
For the caramel:
2 cups apple cider
⅓ cup packed dark brown sugar
2 TBS unsalted butter
½ tsp kosher salt
2 TBS heavy cream
Directions
In the bowl of a food processor, combine flours, sugar and salt. Add the butter and pulse until the mixture resembles coarse sand with some larger pieces. Add the ice water and pulse just until the mixture is evenly moistened. You may need to add an additional TBS of water if the mixture seems too dry and crumbly. Tip the mixture out onto a piece of plastic wrap. Use the edges of the plastic to pack the dough into a disc. Wrap and refrigerate for at least 1 hour and up to 3 days.
Heat the oven to 400 degrees. In a large bowl, toss together apples, pears, sugar, cornstarch, lemon zest and cinnamon. On a lightly floured piece of parchment, roll the dough out into a 12-inch circle. Top the dough with the prepared fruit in concentric circles leaving a 1 1/2-inch border. Lift and press the edges up over the fruit, folding as necessary. Using the parchment paper, transfer the galette to a rimmed baking sheet. Chill for 10 minutes.
Brush the border of the pastry with the beaten egg. Dot the fruit with the butter. Bake until the filling is tender and the crust is deep golden brown, about 45 minutes. Some of the juices may leak out, but that’s O.K.
Wait until the galette is almost baked to begin making the caramel. Bring apple cider to a boil over medium-high heat in a small saucepan. Continue to cook the cider until it has reduced to 1 cup liquid, about 13 to 14 minutes. Don’t stop boiling too early or your caramel sauce will be runny. Then add brown sugar, butter, and salt, and stir to combine. Reduce heat to maintain a simmer, and continue to cook the mixture, whisking often, until it has become syrupy and thickened slightly, about 13 to 15 minutes. Whisk in the cream, and set aside to cool slightly. (The caramel will thicken as it cools.)
· Remove tart from the oven, and let it cool slightly on the pan on a rack. Transfer the galette to a serving plate, and drizzle with caramel. Serve warm or at room temperature with any remaining caramel.