December 22, 2025

It’s winter! The temperature at 6AM was 10F. It wiggled its way up to the mid-teens by mid-day, but then headed back down again. It was also breezy. The snow is gone, and the ground is now free to freeze. Today I cut cedar logs in a friend’s massive cedar bog. We have no cedar here so every few months I head up to Albion and cut cedar for our various outdoor building projects, fence posts, apple ladders, railings and anything else that requires light-weight, rot-resistant wood. The cedars love to twist and turn and curve and grow in all sorts of whimsical and curious shapes. They are so cool. I love cedar bogs! Mostly I cut the blow-downs. They might have tipped over or broken off years ago, but they’re still in perfectly usable shape. 

My goal today was to find a post for a new gate in the BRC orchard. A fourth gate will give us access to a large stand of maple and other potential firewood to the south of the orchard. Thinning back the hardwoods will also increase sunlight to the apple trees. When I got home, I was able to dig a hole and install the post. The snow had protected the ground for the past few weeks so it has not yet frozen. That’ll change in the next week or so. I can build the gate itself in the coming weeks and install it on one of those crisp January afternoons. 

December 21, 2025

Today in the orchard

The shortest day

The sun comes up but won’t stay long;

The skies are cold and partly gray;

The snow is gone:

I won’t delay;

Call it work or call it play:

I want to be outside.

The ground is bare, 

I walk all the way 

around the orchard fences.

There may 

be blow-downs from the recent storm:

Two stray broken fir trees (Abies balsamea) 

lay 

precariously,

half in half out. 

They can stay 

there for now;

That’s Okay.

I’ll get the saw tomorrow.

Oh, and by the way,

I also want to say,

I finished up our scionwood inventory;

Clipboard, pencil and chilly fingers;

Then I closed in the chickens, 

(Check the hay for eggs, just in case)

It’s nearly dark when I come back to the house

Where we set up another Fir, this one in the living room.

I cut it yesterday 

in the BRC, behind one of the two young Blake trees, 

by the compost piles, beyond the Cray

which, by the way, 

may actually be the real Nutting Bumpus:

(We should check the DNA.)

It was dark when I lit the fire and let the dogs in.

I don’t think they noticed the tree.

December 20, 2025

Today in the orchard

We woke up this morning to a very different world than we inhabited yesterday when the woods and the fields and the orchards were entirely white and the driveway was a ribbon of ice. In came the waves of rain and the intense gusts of wind. The temperatures, that recently had not been above zero at dawn, nibbled 50F. Big trees were down along Rte 3 including several all the way across. The road crews had not yet arrived and getting home turned into an adventure. (It might not have been the best day for driving.) This morning the white world had gone. One plus was a very walkable (and drivable) road. No cleats needed on the boots just yet. 

The apple trees probably survived OK. It wasn’t too warm for too long. By this morning, the temperatures had settled back down into the low 20’s. The trees are into consistency. In the summer, they’re happy with the warmth. But not now. In the winter, they want it cold. Tomorrow, on the solstice, I’ll walk all the orchards. The ground is now a bare mat of stiff, frozen grass and the walking is easy. I’ll be looking for broken branches or—even worse—uprooted trees. I’ll check all the fences for blowdowns. (That wind was powerful.) I’ll wish the orchard well on the shortest day of the year and say good-bye for one last time before the real cold sets in. Bring it on.

Good-by and Keep Cold (1923) by Robert Frost

This saying good-by on the edge of the dark

And the cold to an orchard so young in the bark

Reminds me of all that can happen to harm

An orchard away at the end of the farm

All winter, cut off by a hill from the house.

I don't want it girdled by rabbit and mouse,

I don't want it dreamily nibbled for browse

By deer, and I don't want it budded by grouse.

(If certain it wouldn't be idle to call

I'd summon grouse, rabbit, and deer to the wall

And warn them away with a stick for a gun.)

I don't want it stirred by the heat of the sun.

(We made it secure against being, I hope,

By setting it out on a northerly slope.)

No orchard's the worse for the wintriest storm;

But one thing about it, it mustn't get warm.

"How often already you've had to be told,

Keep cold, young orchard. Good-by and keep cold.

Dread fifty above more than fifty below."

I have to be gone for a season or so.

My business awhile is with different trees,

Less carefully nourished, less fruitful than these,

And such as is done to their wood with an ax—

Maples and birches and tamaracks.

I wish I could promise to lie in the night

And think of an orchard's arboreal plight

When slowly (and nobody comes with a light)

Its heart sinks lower under the sod.

But something has to be left to God.

December 18, 2025

Today in the orchard

The cold weather that’s been with us for the last few weeks has given way to somewhat warmer temperatures. Monday and Tuesday were zero F at dawn. Wednesday was 20F. Today, about the same. Skylar and I began the process of inventorying last season’s growth on all the fruit trees on the farm. With clipboard and pencil in hand, we made our way through most of our snowy Finley Lane orchard. Our primary mission was to look for available scionwood for distribution this winter. 

We train our eyes to focus on this past season’s new growth. That is the growth out at the end of most branches. On some branches there’s lots. On others, almost none. We ask ourselves a series of unspoken questions as we move from tree to tree. How does last summer’s new growth look? Are there long shoots that are begging to be snipped off? Are they “redundant” or angling off in the “wrong” way? Is the new growth plump or skimpy in diameter? Should we offer this one in our list of scionwood for sale? Each tree gets a check or a dash—or a squiggle if it’s iffy—and we move on to the next.

A December excursion through the orchards is also an opportunity to get out into the orchards and be there with the trees. I don’t do that nearly as much in the off-season. Today was one of those perfect opportunities to see how the trees look. Without the foliage, the trees reveal their form—and health—in a way that’s so easy to miss in the summertime with all those leaves in the way! And, it’s just plain fun to be out there with the trees in the snow. If I listen carefully, I can hear them say, “Hey, welcome back!”  

December 16, 2025

Today in the orchard

Time to stratify apple seeds for planting this coming spring. Stratification is a cold treatment process that helps to trigger germination in many seeds, including apples. First we extract the seed, saving the apple themselves for a pot of apple sauce. We fold the apples’ seeds up in small wads of damp paper towel. We keep each variety separate although it isn’t necessary if the parentage isn’t of interest. As many as 50 or more seeds can go in one “wad” of damp paper towel which is then put into a small mason jar with a lid. I label the top with the name of one parent (or both if I know them) and set the jars on a shelf in the root cellar where they’ll “stratify” for three months or so. The temperature fluctuates around 32F. It’s OK if they freeze but not as cold as a freezer. 

In January I’ll open the jars and check the damp paper towel for mold.  If there’s any sign of mold, I’ll re-wrap them in new damp paper towel and seal them. I’ll check them again in February. Sometime in March I’ll open them up again and look for any signs of sprouting. Once a few begin to sprout, I’ll plant all the seeds in flats like you would tomatoes or broccoli. 

Eventually each seedling will get it’s own small pot. In May they will be transplanted about a foot apart into a nursery row similar to how we plant young grafted trees. After a couple of years in the nursery, the healthiest, most vigorous seedlings will go out into the orchard. 

We know only one parent of some of the seed extracted today, that being the fruiting parent, or the Mom. Those are said to be “open pollinated” (no specific pollen source) and are from Blue Pearmain, Charlamoff, Redfield and Scout. We know both parents of the fruit from the Frostbite (MN 447) trees that we had hand with Black Oxford, Gray Pearmain and Westfield Seek No Further. If all goes well, in about 2030 (or so) we’ll get our first fruit! 

December 13, 2025

Today in the orchard

Trees and scionwood for sale!

Now the orchards and nursery have been put to bed for the winter, we’ve been assembling a list of available trees for digging this spring and available scionwood for cutting this winter. We’ll be offering about thirty different grafted apple tree cultivars, about a hundred seedlings, as well as about 200 different cultivars of scionwood. We plan to post the lists by early January along with prices and instructions. 

Please pass along this email to others who might be interested. 

Thanks, John (Bunk) and Cammy

Grafted trees:

The grafted trees are mostly unusual selections that have intrigued us in some way or another. We specialize in weird apples, often only suitable for cooking, cider or the true apple adventurer. All are either already on trial in one of our orchards or are destined to be there this coming spring. We’ll post descriptions of all of them in our varieties list on the website. We may have an assortment of other odds and ends available in the spring after the snow melts and we do a more thorough inventory of our various nursery beds. 

Seedling trees:

We’ll have about a hundred seedling trees for sale, all open-pollenated with only the female parent known. They are all “children” of about a dozen of our favorite rare cultivars.    

Scionwood:

We don’t offer scionwood of the more common cultivars. You can purchase that from Fedco Trees or several other sources. Most of the scionwood cultivars will have posted descriptions though some will not. It’s a on-going process.

Special orders:

If you are looking for something you don’t see on one of our lists, feel free to write to us and ask. We won’t be listing everything we have. And, we’re in touch with growers throughout the US and may be able to direct you to a good source.

Custom grafting:

We do custom grafting. If interested, write for details.

December 12, 2025

Today in the orchard

At 6 AM this morning it was a balmy +10F. It creeped its way up into the teens by late morning. The gusty, cold wind, however, was impressive, and it never felt all that warm while we were cleaning up the trail out beyond the orchard we call the BRC.    

We have plenty of visitors outside the kitchen window these days. The birds are “flocking” to the feeder. So many birds. They love the free food. We look out, and they’re everywhere in the sky, in the trees and across the snow. Sometimes they even make the ground itself look as though it’s alive. 

The Blue Jays (Cyanocitta cristata), in particular, love it here. They swoop in from the hemlocks, grab a mouthful of black oil sunflower seeds and zip back off into the trees. I bet we have three dozen Jays who show up regularly, sometimes all at once. Most days it’s also Chickadees, Titmice, Mourning Doves, Harry the Hairy Woodpecker and the Cardinal couple from away.

Today we also had a flock of Evening Grosbeaks (Hesperiphona vespertina) stop by. Cammy thinks they look like clowns. Maybe it’s that wide yellow forehead band. It would have been easy to miss them. I happened to gaze out the window at the perfect moment when the whole bunch of them scattered en masse into the woods. “Had it been another day, I might have looked the other way…” I didn’t get a good look, but I was pretty sure it was the Grosbeaks. I figured they’d return. A few minutes later they were back. Presumably they’re passing through en route from somewhere to somewhere. Stopping in for a pitstop. I don’t think they’re planning to spend the winter here.

When I was about seven, I discovered a dead Evening Grosbeak on the flat roof above our porch. I don’t think I told anyone. As I recall I took the Grosbeak out back and gave it a proper burial. I assume now that it must have flown into a window, but back then I didn’t know birds did that. I just knew it was dead. Some images you don’t forget. 

December 8, 2025

Today in the orchard

It feels like winter more and more everyday. The snow continues to accumulate an inch or so every day, and the temperature doesn’t seem to want to break 32F. The temptation to sit near the fire and stare at unidentified apples is as great as it’s been for a very long time. What a perfect way to occupy a cold December day.  

So I sit and look. More has transpired in the search to identify “Geneva Tremlett’s” (PI_175550). We’ve connected with our friends/colleagues in the UK, and they are now joining us in the attempt to determine what PI_175550 isn’t and what it might be. “By process of elimination,” as they say. 

Apple identification is a bit like the kids’ party-game Musical Chairs. The music starts, and we all walk in a circle around a row of chairs. Meanwhile some parent removes one chair from the row. The music stops, and everyone scrambles to find a chair to sit in, but there’s one less chair. Someone has no place to sit, and they are out. Finally it's down to one chair and two kids. Or in the case of apples, two identities left if you’re lucky. In apple identification that last chair is it. We’re now in the process of pulling aside chairs one by one. As long as we knock them off—even only one at a time—we should eventually find the true identity of PI_175550. 

To review we know that Geneva Tremletts (PI_175550) is not the true UK Tremlett’s Bitter though we’re virtually certain it is a known cider apple, not a seedling or a rootstock. Geneva Tremletts is a red, fall-ripening bittersharp. The true Tremlett’s is a bittersweet. We also know that it was exported from Long Ashton Research Station (LARS) to the US in 1949.

I sent off a detailed phenotypic description of PI_175550 to the folks in the UK. I hope it might ring a bell and that we’ll be rewarded with another clue or two as we yank more chairs off the birthday party floor. We’ve still got a lot of chairs to eliminate, but, looking over the horizon, the last chair might possibly be a relatively obscure fall bittersharp called Tom Tanner. It’s possible! Tom Tanner was apparently growing at LARS at the right time. It resembles Geneva Tremlett’s enough to be a plausible mix-up. Tom and Tremlett’s are in alphabetical order. Could it be that a stick of Tom was inadvertently snipped and sent as Tremlett’s 76 years ago?

December 9, 2025

Today in the orchard

At 6 AM this morning the thermometer on the back porch read —22F. Wow. Even the collies looked cold.

When we were kids (maybe you too) there was always someone’s house where everyone went to hang out. There was something about it. Fun. Welcoming. Snacks. Basketball hoop. Understanding Mom, etc. Well, we seem to have created the collie-version of that old neighborhood hang out.  If you stopped over these days, you’d wonder why we had so many kids (Collies). Well we don’t. They just love being here. Currently we have three, though only one is “ours.” But they treat our home as their default hangout. They come over and don’t leave except when they all spontaneously start barking and then race off into the woods to chase the latest marauder. Most of the time, they lay around. Occasionally they pretend-fight. They line up dutifully for treats if you get close to the car and they think there’s a chance you are leaving on an errand. They love to go on walks with us. You’d think all three were ours. 

Collies are the perfect farm dog. They’re happy to bark all night and do a flawless job at protecting orchards and gardens. They chase away the deer, raccoons, squirrels, even bears if you have them. We do though we never see them..because of our collies. (Porcupines are tricky. We have pulled out a lot of quills over the years.) Until we got our first Collie several decades ago, we’d sometimes have deer peeking in our windows at night. In many parts of Maine, it’s nearly impossible to grow an apple tree or a broccoli plant without a serious fence… or a Collie. (These are—I should mention—the Standard type, not the Border collies which are a bit too hyper for my taste.)

Collies have incredibly thick coats and will gladly sleep outside 24-7-365. They love to nestle up in a good snowstorm and make sure no one’s messing with our Black Oxfords. As mentioned, they often bark all night. That’s actually a good thing, although it can get to be a bit much now and then. When it is, we invite them in to sleep inside. We never reprimand them (after all they were just doing their job). Then we go back to sleep. 

Collies welcome all visitors. They love everyone unconditionally. They don’t bite the UPS guy. Or FedX. Oh my word, what is there not to love about collies?

We’ve had a succession of collies over the years. We've always preferred females although I’ve met a number of terrific male collies so gender may not matter all that much. You might say, they are—in actual fact—the best dogs that ever were. This year one of our Collies moved on the orchard in the sky. Radar had been protecting the farm for a very long time. We miss her everyday. What great dogs. 

December 6, 2025

Today in the orchard

A balmy zero this morning - fourteen degrees warmer than yesterday. It snowed all day although the new accumulation was less than an inch. The temperature rose to the mid-teens by early afternoon. I took the opportunity to do some outdoor chores before the ground is entirely frozen. That could be soon. 

I was able to spend some time identifying apples, today’s focus being “Faux Tremletts,” or, as some call it, “Geneva Tremlett’s.” It was sent to the US as Tremlett’s Bitter from Long Ashton Research Station in the UK in 1949 and became part of the Geneva, NY apple collection with the number PI_175550. It was presumed for many years to be correct, but its identity was thrown into question about the time that cider-makers realized that the US “Foxwhelp” was incorrectly labeled and became known as Fauxwhelp. The tip-off was that, as “Tremletts” began to be passed around, grafted and fermented, it became clear that PI_175550 is a bittersharp. The true Tremlett’s Bitter is a bittersweet. There was a problem.

Dick Dunn wrote in Cider Digest in June, 2015, “The pleasant irony is that the mis-ID'd variety is actually a rather nice cider apple. I haven't been nearly bold enough to make a varietal cider of it, but it's a real help in a blend that needs a nudge in character. So I'd like to be able to describe it to other cidermakers/orchardists without resorting to a short essay of its provenance...I just want a name.”

There was some attempt to identify PI_175550 but without success. For a while it was thought that it could be Skyrme’s Kernel, an English bittersharp. But Geneva has Skyrme’s, and it appears to be correct. (We also have Skyrmes from Geneva growing here.  It’s a beautiful, hardy and prolific bittersharp, one we recommend for trial in colder districts.) In 2019 the true Tremlett’s Bitter was imported from the UK and is now in the Geneva, NY collection as  PI_703244. 

So now both “Tremlett’s” are here in the states. While it’s great to have the real Tremlett’s, unfortunately trees and scionwood of both are being sold, sometimes with no clear indication of which is being offered. Some nurseries say that they are selling the faux. Others say they have the real one but clearly do not. Some descriptions are confusing or even bizarre. One site suggests that the apple can be bittersweet or bittersharp depending on this or that.

After looking through my various books of UK cider apples, I’ve begun to zero-in on a possible ID for Geneva Tremlett’s. There are clues to be found here and there. Greg Peck of Cornell wrote to me that they have compared the Geneva Tremlett’s DNA profile with DNA results from the US and Europe but have found no match. Greg has sent me that list, and I'll look it over tomorrow. As Sherlock always loved to say, “Eliminate the impossible!” Once I can see what’s been discounted, I’ll be ready to flip the latch and open the next door of possibilities.

December 5, 2025

Today in the orchard

This morning was the coldest December 5th in a very long time. It was —14F on the big porch at 6 AM.  I think we could have gone skating today somewhere nearby. But we didn’t try. Mr. and Ms. Cardinal, who have taken up permanent residence status on the farm for the past few winters, were seen deliberating on their decision as we ate breakfast with the sun shining in our eyes and the woodstove radiating whatever it could muster from behind. “Why did we do this?” she was heard chirping to the Dad. I didn’t actually hear his reply. It sounded like he mumbled something in the order of, “hey, these black oil sunflower seeds are pretty good.” 

Our visiting friends headed off for lands south of here. Cammy and I descended into the basement where we sorted apples for the next several hours until well after dark. (Dark is about 3:30.) We’ll sell the best of them over the course of the next few weeks. Some will go into one last cider pressing if the weather cooperates. Many will be examined, photographed, tasted, cooked with and some will be “phenotypically” described for future generations. And then there are the bushels of bags of assorted ID’s. So much to do.

By evening the root cellar was looking more orderly than it had in weeks. It was time to re-ascend into the warmth. Outside, that big fat moon was shining like a spoon. It will be warmer tonight. Zero, they say.

December 3, 2025

Today in the orchard

I never know what will turn up when I open a package this time of year. I assume it’s going to be a bunch of apples and then, it’s not. I opened one box yesterday and found two jars of honey sent from a former member of our apple CSA. A thank you gift for all the apples over the years. Thank you! 

Another I opened yesterday was a crocheted potholder with a Black Oxford apple in the center. Wow!  This was from Paula Gray who I’d met in Massachusetts earlier this fall and whose relative was Nathaniel Haskell, the one credited with having found the first Black Oxford tree 240 years ago in Paris, ME. Meeting Paula was a highlight of my trip to the New England Botanic Garden at Tower Hill in Boylston. She came up to me and introduced herself. We agreed on a trade: she’d send me family information on Nathaniel Haskell, and I’d send her a box of Black Oxfords. She’d never tried one.

According to Paula, Nathaniel was Capt. Nathaniel Haskell, born in Hampton Falls, NH in 1742. He married Deborah Bailey of Falmouth, ME. At age thirty-three Nathaniel joined the “31st regiment of Foot,” in Cumberland County, ME. He died in New Gloucester, not far from Falmouth, in 1794. 

Nathaniel’s daughter, Dorothy, born 1768 in New Gloucester, married Edmund Knight, and they lived in Poland, Otisfield and Paris, Maine. Dorothy died in 1848. According to Paula, “I don’t know if Nathaniel ever lived for a time in Paris, ME, but his daughter Dorothy (my grandmother) and his daughter Jemma lived there for decades.”

Sometime around 1790 the seedling that became known as Black Oxford was supposedly found by Nathaniel on the Valentine farm in Paris. Using 1790 as the date, that would have made Dorothy twenty-two years old and, by that time she could have married Edmund Knight and been living in Paris. Captain Nathaniel Haskell would have been forty-eight. Was he visiting his daughter? Was he living for a time with her and her young family?

Paula’s note inspired me to do more research. Evidently Nathaniel and Deborah had 12 children, one of whom was also named Nathaniel who was born in 1764 and would have been twenty-six in 1790 when the seedling was discovered. The son, Nathaniel married Sarah Stevens, and they had a son, also named Nathaniel, who was born in Paris in 1789. Perhaps Paula’s suspicion is correct - Captain Nathaniel Haskell never lived in Paris. It seems more likely that the Nathaniel Haskell of Black-Oxford-fame was his son Nathaniel who was living in Paris in 1789.

I went to the basement and selected a dozen Black Oxford apples and packed them up to send to Paula. I’ll put them in the mail tomorrow.

December 2, 2025

Today in the orchard

As predicted, the snow came, and the temperature did not rise. At least not enough to turn the precipitation into rain. There was some thought that it would hold off until mid-morning, but that didn’t happen. It was snowing by 8:00 AM.

I spent much of the day identifying apples, including a Stark tree from Falmouth, ME and a Baldwin tree from Martha’s Vineyard, MA. Stark (not to be confused with Starkey or Stark Bros.) does vaguely resemble Baldwin. In fact, some growers called them “Baldwin” in the same way that many green apples were called “Greening” as though all the various green apples were the same cultivar (which they are not!) With Stark, this troubling habit of calling them Baldwin caused confusion a hundred years ago. It also caused confusion as my brain was sorting out varieties many years ago. When you are told that multiple distinct cultivars are all the same, it doesn’t help your brain any as you try to figure out what’s what. Baldwin and Stark are not the same. 

Stark originated in Ohio in the mid-nineteenth century and became quite popular in Maine a short time later. It was grown commercially—like Baldwin—but it’s hardier, perhaps a bit easier to grow, and maybe the trees were more accessible (cheaper). Anyway, it was grown fairly commonly in Maine before the rise of McIntosh.

How to tell them apart: in shape Stark is more round-conic, and Baldwin is chubbier. Stark’s skin is smoother. Stark’s “red” is a dull brown mixed with a bit of green while Baldwin is brick red. Stark’s basin is not nearly as furrowed as Baldwin. Baldwin’s furrows can be quite pronounced (though not like Red Delicious.)

The Baldwin apples were sent from Martha’s Vineyard. The owner included a photo noting the woodpecker holes in her mystery tree. How perfect! One of the early names of New England’s most important apple ever was “Woodpecker”.  Woody himself was writing his name right there on the trunk of the tree. If we could only read “Woodpecker.”

Meanwhile the snow continued to blanket the Earth, and before I knew it ,it was night and time to abandon the ID table and go put the chickens away. The snow was up over my low-boots. Time to get out the high-boots.

December 1, 2025

Today in the orchard

It was windy, cold and partly cloudy, sprinkled with the occasional moment of warm sunshine. All the farm ponds are now iced-over though no one is looking for their skates just yet. I haven’t checked out the big ponds so I don’t know about them. The first decent storm of the season is predicted for tomorrow, to be followed by abnormally cold air. 

Cammy wrapped the last of the trees around the farm with screen. I went up to the neighbor’s and put on sixty treeguards there. We do an on-going work-trade with them. We maintain their orchard, and in return I’ve gotten to plant and grow out a bunch of back-ups of our favorite rare, historic-Maine cultivars. We also get a load of firewood to supplement what we cut ourselves. It’s a beautiful spot that was long ago a small commercial orchard of a hundred trees or so. About twenty of the original trees—mostly Ben Davis and Stark—remain.

As it was getting dark, we closed down the cooler for the season and moved all the remaining apples down to the basement. In the next few days we’ll go through the boxes, sort them out, pitch the rotten ones, set aside enough to do another cider pressing and store the rest in the root cellar. Then I’ll seriously plunge into the ID’s. That should take the entire winter.  

November 28, 2025

Today in the orchard

Today I went for a long, brisk, windy walk along the choppy waters of East River between Manhattan and Brooklyn with Benford Lepley, an apple-forager, grower and cidermaker from Long Island. We’d met a few times over the years, and it seemed as though it was about time to actually spend a couple hours together. Benford—or Ben—makes “Floral Terranes Cider” with Erik Longabardi, primarily from foraged wild apples in the New York city area. He’s grafted a collection of his favorite discoveries and planted an orchard out in eastern Long Island. I was pleased to hear that he’s already grafted “Screen Shot,” one of our own nastiest favorites. We’ll trade scionwood this winter and trial some of his up north at Finley Lane. 

He brought us a bottle of his “Trees are Filters” cider. The name got me instantly inspired. The word “filter” definitely got a bad rep (and a bad rap) during the cigarette days. The “filter” was supposed to eliminate the unhealthy stuff from the tobacco that nearly everyone smoked. If you were health conscious (or a wimp), you’d smoke filtered cigarettes. How well did that work? But on the farm, filter is the good word. Even essential. We filter the oil that lubricates the tractor that powers the sprayer that filters the sprays that we spray on the apple trees that filter our air and filter our water and filter the nutrients that rise through the xylem’s filter to feed the flowers that produce the apples that we grind and press and filter through a special cloth into a screened funnel (another filter) and into the barrel. No filters, no cider.  

November 26, 2025

Today in the orchard

Well, the Redfield, Blue Pearmain and Grandfather pie was a success. At least I was quite happy with it. The texture was nearly perfect, and  the flavor was good too. It's worth mentioning that the granddaughters assisted me with the prep work. As they were rolling out the crust, hey tasted the three apples raw and were entirely unimpressed. It's amazing what an hour in the oven can do for the flavor of the right apples.

The crust did settle a bit. Not weirdly so but it did have me concerned. I probably could have used one or two more apples. (I used 10 apples: four Redfield, and 3 each of the other two.)  The flavor of the crust was nondescript. That’s what I like. No distractions. I used 1/3 c sugar and barely 1/8 tsp of cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves. Just enough to give it a hint. I never peel the apples. 

Would I recommend that combo again? I went back for seconds.

Oh yes, the rest of the meal was also a big success as was the company. On top of that, everyone liked our cider as well. Apples win again!    

November 25, 2025

Today in the orchard

I generally prefer making single-variety pies because I love to see what a particular apple can do. But now it’s Thanksgiving, and I want to go all out with a blend. Yesterday I mentioned Northern Spy, Rhode Island Greening and Gravenstein—all excellent choices. But I prefer to be more adventurous. So I will use Redfield, Blue Pearmain and Grandfather.

Redfield is a modern (1938) apple and one of my favorite apples ever. It knows how to make sauce, and it definitely knows how to shine in a pie. The slices hold their shape, the texture is tender yet firm, and it has flavor. The tree itself bears prolifically, annually and is relatively easy to grow. And the flesh is red. Who could ask for more?

Blue Pearmain is exceedingly old (c 1725), originated somewhere in Suffolk County—Boston, is of unknown origin and parentage but has the famous ancestor, Reinette Franche as a grandparent. On the beauty-scale it’s up near the top - magnificent. It’s also one of the parents of Black Oxford and a favorite unidentified apple we can “Guptill Lavender.” It is a bakes well whole, so today I’ll give it the ultimate test.

The third (a risk) is a local apple, “Grandfather,” which may be a seedling but which is quite old nevertheless. We grafted ours from an old tree a few miles from our farm. I chose it in part because it is acidic. The pie apple requires acidity. The low-acid apples do not cook well into a pie. I don’t even consider them. Grandfather is also beautiful. True, beauty doth not an pie apple make, but it’s also mostly yellow. Neither Redfield nor Blue Pearmain has a dot of yellow on them, and it seemed like I needed at least some yellow to balance the red. Balance is good for a pie. 

What apples should you use? Better to lean on the acidity side. You can tell—just take a bite of the apple fresh. Love that simple crust. Go easy on the spices and sugar. Use lots of butter. And if all else fails, there’s always ice cream or whipped cream. Or both!  Happy Thanksgiving.      

November 24, 2025

Today in the orchard

I recently visited the Union Square Farmers Market in Manhattan in search of commercially available pie apples. The square was hopping, and there was a lot of produce being sold. There’s not much else more fun than roaming around The Big Apple If you can't be at home!

Between the various fruit vendors I was able to photograph an impressive 36 apple cultivars for sale. Surely there must be some decent pie apples in the lot. Well, maybe. Sadly, nearly all of them were those modern, crisp, dessert apples in their various incarnations.  Tucked between the Crispy Crisps, I found a cardboard placard with a recommended “baking” list. I wonder if whoever invented the line-up ever baked a pie. 

• HoneyCrisp

• Pink Lady

• Braeburn

• Granny Smith

• Macoun

• Jonagold  

But there were a few somewhat common cultivars that might be in contention. You may be able to find these at a farm stand or store near you. These included Winesap, Cortland and Idared.  (Although I confess that I’ve never used any of them so, who am I to say?) 

Winesap is very old and of unknown ancestry, originating well before the Revolution somewhere down near Valley Forge. I recall someone once telling me it was a good pie apple. Cortland is from the early twentieth century. Its parents are Ben Davis and McIntosh. Maine grocery stores will try to convince you it’s good for pies. So be it. Idared is from the mid-twentieth century and is a Jonathan x Wagener cross. Whether it's good in the oven is a guess. If you can find any of these three, I’d say try one, or even better, try a mix of all three. 

November 23, 2025

Today in the orchard

But what about the PIE apples? There are sixteen thousand (give or take) cultivars listed in Dan Bussey’s Illustrated History of Apples in the United States and Canada, not to mention the tens of millions of apple seedlings out there in the US landscape - almost as many as there are stars in the sky or insects on the planet. Practically an infinite array of flavors and textures—not to mention colors and sizes and shapes. So how come it’s so hard to find a good pie apple!

First and foremost, the apple is beholden to The Crust. The Crust—even the simple crust—has got to be edible. All crusts cook in a set amount of time—mine takes 15 minutes at 375F and another 45 minutes at 350F. That’s easy. The challenge becomes the apples: they need to cook to the perfect flavor and texture in the same amount of time. A few minutes out of sync one way or the other and the pie will be a failure. No matter how good the crust, no matter how good the spices, no matter how much sugar and butter, if the apples are poorly cooked, the pie will be a flop. 

So you have to find apples that will cook to the perfect texture in 60 minutes, and not many do. Some will be sauce, some will be leathery, some will be like rubber. Others will be tasteless and vapid, whatever that is. But fortunately a few will be perfectly tender after 60 minutes yet hold their shape. That’s requirement number one. Requirement number two is…flavor. "They got to have flavor." And, they have to be in season. That’s all tricky.

Before I tell you what I’ll be using on Thursday, here are four suggested cultivars you might be able to find with a bit of resourcefulness in some commercial orchards, farmstands and even grocery stores. 

• Gravenstein (aka Gravensteiner): This is one of the most historically important apples in the world. It is so old that its origins are totally unknown. Guesses have been made but are all probably incorrect. It is a true pie apple and has often been prclaimed to be the best of them all. It’s a bit late in the fall to find them, but they might still be around. Unlike most cultivars, they have been grown on both coasts for generations. If you can find it, your pie will be a homerun.

• Northern Spy: This classic New York apple first appeared in the mid-nineteenth century and became wildly popular throughout the eastern US. It ripens late but should be OK now. It makes an outstanding pie and, if you can find it, I don’t think you’ll be unhappy.

• Rhode Island Greening: This is the original Greening, dating from the early days of what eventually became Rhode Island. It is unrelated to all other “Greening” apples. RIG is a premier cooking apple and should be perfectly ripe today. Highly recommended.

• Bramley: Though I’ve never used Bramley, it is beloved in its native UK. It’s worth a try.   

November 22, 2025

Today in the orchard

With Thanksgiving only five days away, everyone in the world must be thinking about that most quintessential of American foods - the pinnacle of culinary creativity, the one food item that combines all five major food groups (dough, spices, butter, sugar and Malus domestica). What else? The apple pie!

There are many recipes for pie crusts. Some are incredibly flakey and delicious, but I fear that they can wind up being a distraction. I’m a fan of the KISS pie crust (Keep it simple, stupid.) The simpler the crust, the more you can taste the number one ingredient: the apple. So I use about 1 1/2 c flour, a stick of butter and a few tablespoons of water. Make a ball of dough, and refrigerate for 2-3 hours. Then roll it out thin, and you’re done. If your pie pan is bigger, use 2 c flour and a bit more butter. “It’s better with butter.” 

And what about the spices and sugar? I also espouse to the KISS plan on both. The best plan is to use none. Not that I don’t love them, especially nutmeg—one of the most wonderful smells in the world. But “less is more” nonetheless. I do use cinnamon, nutmeg and cloves, but in minuscule amounts, about 1/8 tsp of each. It’s sort of the homeopathic version of pie spices, or as we say these days, micro-dosing. With the sugar, again micro-dose. If the recipe says a cup, cut it in thirds or quarters.  

But what about the apples?  Help is on the way... tomorrow.