In Vermont, it’s all about the apples

The Macoun appears like clockwork, right around my son%u2019s birthday. Both events are so conjoined in my psyche that I am unable to imagine one without the other.

WEST BRATTLEBORO — Our son, Lucas, turns 21 on Sept. 21. For those of you who made it through fourth grade, this means he will experience his “golden birthday”- when you are the same age as your birth date.

According to fourth-grade philosophy, the golden birthday is supposed to be one of the best years of your life. I mean, duh. One doesn't need an elementary-school diploma to grasp that kind of logic.

While discussing the implications of finally reaching our nation's legal drinking age, Lucas staunchly defended his right to party hearty. In response to my pleas for pacing and moderation, he responded adamantly, “There is no way I am not going to throw up on my 21st birthday.”

Not a maternal moment for pride and joy perhaps, but at least he correctly pulled off the double negative.

While my 20-year-old eagerly awaits his golden birthday, I am eagerly awaiting my golden apple.

September marks the arrival of Vermont's iconic fruit. Berries, schmerries. Forget it. We live in Vermont, so it's all about the apples!

My favorite variety, the Macoun, appears like clockwork, right around Lucas's birthday. Both events are so conjoined in my psyche that I am unable to imagine one without the other. While my son is vomiting - excuse me, celebrating his birthday - I will be celebrating the return of the blessed Macoun.

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Why is the Macoun so good? It's a winny-win-winster.

First, they arrive early, allowing instant gratification. Early arrival doesn't compromise on flavor. Macouns are tangy and sour, but not in that face-cringing, TMJ-irritating way that early Macs and Paula Reds can be. Macouns balance sour and sweet.

Macouns also linger. Where a Mac begins losing its crisp allure after foliage, Macouns retain their outstanding qualities throughout the season.

Macouns are the crunchiest; they are hard as rocks. One could kill a chipmunk hurling a few well-placed Macouns at it. Their thin skin creates a smooth, popping crunch. They ripen so prettily, in a dark red, almost-purplish hue.

Scott Farm, a Dummerston orchard owned by the Landmark Trust and specializing in heirloom apples, describes the Macoun as “[a] deep red, flatish apple with a sweet, crisp, white breaking flesh. A popular farm stand apple, developed by Professor Macoun of Nova Scotia in the 1940s.”

Macouns are not too big and not too small; they are just right. They're more expensive, but most of the good stuff is. And like most good stuff, they are worth it.

I purchase Macouns from Dutton Berry Farm and Walker Farm stands, but other family orchards merit consideration: Dwight Miller Orchards, Green Mountain Orchards, and Harlow Farm have kept our community in apples for generations.

Our river valley also has outstanding smaller orchards that focus on organic and heirloom varieties. Scott Farm and Alyson's Orchard are often featured in local co-ops and at local farm stands.

My beloved Macoun is just the tip of the iceberg. There are as many types of apples in New England as there are words describing snow in Newfoundland. I shall not begrudge your choosing alliance with another flavor.

Plus, different apples offer different utilities. The bigger, softer apples are good for cooking, while the smaller, crunchier ones make for good snacking. While I love my Macoun, I wouldn't bake a pie with it. Not while there is a perfectly good Cortland available.

* * *

September's recipe gives a shout-out to the hot new chick flick The Hundred-foot Journey. This film is basically a love story set in the culinary world. Cultures collide: a sweet, serious French girl falls for a sweet, serious Indian boy. Both cook in their respective restaurants, which happen to be 100 feet apart from each other. it's My Big Fat Greek Wedding meets Big Night, and it is a savory affair.

A highlight of the film reveals the passion of the spice. Hassan, our gastronomic hero, learns his craft from his mother and, after she dies, carries her spices to their new world. Hassan's spices bring magic, not only to his family's traditional Indian curries but to classical French cuisine, as well. He ignites perfection with passion, through spice.

Let us ignite our perfect apple with a little passion. Fall has begun, and things are cooling down. Not everyone has a 21st golden birthday to celebrate. Our souls need a bit of heating up.

What better way than through cooking, and what better way through cooking than with spices?

Spicy apple crisp

For this recipe, choose a variety of apples suitable for baking: Cortland, Mitzu, or Rome, for example, or ask your friendly apple vendor for other suggestions.

On peeling: Peeled has better texture and unpeeled is healthier. Choose your value.

Dice or slice:

¶ a bunch of apples

Eat the apple seeds. Give the cores to the dog.

Fill a baking pan. Sprinkle:

¶sugar, enough to gently cover the apples

¶cinnamon, allspice, cardamom, or ginger, small spoonfuls of one, some, or all

Add pinches of pungent spices:

¶ clove, nutmeg, or anise.

Mix it all up in the pan.

If you like your crisp really yummy, scatter:

¶butter, chunked

Top with crumb, enough to cover your apples. Crumb can be a lot of things. A simple crumb is butter and oats. Add sugar if you feel fancy.

Cook in a medium oven (around 350 degrees), until done.

When is it done? Hey, you've eaten apple crisp. If it's done, it'll be brown on top, it'll be bubbling on the bottom, and it will smell done. Poke it with a fork. The apples will be tender.

If it's not done, don't worry. It's all edible, either way. You'll have made apple granola, at the very least.

Options: Add Green tomatoes, raisins, currants, pears, walnuts, rhubarb, raspberries, or whatever you fancy. Serve with ice cream, yogurt, or whipped cream, if you want to melt into your chair.

* * *

Richard C. Morais, author of The Hundred Foot Journey, remarks, “Never be afraid of trying something new, Hassan. Very important. It is the spice of life.”

I don't know if he was referring to a 21-year-old reviving the ancient art of Roman orgiastic binging. But what the heck? You only turn 21 once.

As for me, I'll be celebrating my son's birthday munching on pure Vermont heaven. There is no way I'm not going to enjoy that Macoun.

Happy Golden Birthday, Lucas.

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