“First, I put an apple on the table. Then I put myself inside the apple. Ah! So peaceful.” — Henri Michaux
An apple would make a good therapist, don’t you agree? Whenever I need to express myself by eating something at the round red core of flavor, I go for a Macoun, which is a local cross between a McIntosh and a Jersey Black. It’s crisp, sweet and tart. And like all apples, it’s a great listener. It has nothing to hide, and doesn’t judge. Eating an apple brings peace to the soul.
But for better or worse, there is a new apple in town, and it’s not particularly interested in your problems. Probably because it has none of its own. It was selected from 10,000 crossbreeds and is now growing lustily on 17 million trees, slowly developing its big, round muscles for a breakout season in Fall of 2020. But a few became available beginning December 1st of this year.
I didn’t really expect this. I found out about it in the checkout line, when one cashier complained to another that the new apple didn’t have a price code yet. “What’s the name of the new apple?” I asked, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.
Cosmic Crisp. Named because its tiny whitish lenticels, dispersed across the deep red universe of its flawless skin, resemble the stars in the sky. And because it was named by professional food namers, following the output of focus groups. And also, I like to think, because it is a cross between a Honeycrisp and the starship Enterprise, or maybe there really is an apple varietal called Enterprise. I’ve never seen one, but that’s what they say.
But oh, my. Of course I bought a few, at $3.49 a pound. This is an apple the way Fridge Perry was a defensive tackle. It dominates, with confidence. You don’t come to it expecting sympathy. You expect a big bang, and that’s what you get.
So what to do with this perfect, crunchy, uber-pomme? Hand out slices over the holidays, of course, while breathlessly relating the backstory of its twenty years in development, its patent, its ability to withstand up to a year in cold storage, its non-GMO technofruit status, its guest appearance on my beloved Gastropod.
The bottom line consensus? It’s sweet, but not as kid-sweet as a Honeycrisp, though with some of the same honey flavor. It has reasonable acidity for balance. It’s globular and well-muscled up top, with a hint of fluttery dimples puckering its flower end. My specimens varied in shading but all had a nice, healthy glow, like they had just finished savasanya after a tough yoga class.
But what this apple really delivers is crunch. It wants to shatter on the tooth, delivering its load of sweetness in sharp bursts as you chew. It’s actually a little hard to cut cleanly. It’s almost as if it were stuffed with itself.
Hell, it’s almost as if it were a jicama in drag.
But this is, so far, the ultimate eating apple. And yet it’s lonely. It wants something to soothe its crispy edges, and give it the floral notes it doesn’t even know it needs. A calm, creamy presence that will help it discover itself. Maybe some mascarpone, with a bit of lavender-scented EVOO?
Eaters, is it not ironic that, eons after the apple (purportedly) brought knowledge to humanity, we have used that same, sinful understanding to bring the world a new apple? We have done so much worse with our wisdom than to birth this crunchy paragon. Perhaps a group therapy session with our new child of the cosmos, and a little cheese, is a fitting repentance. In the words of another underappreciated Frenchman:
“The discovery of a new dish brings more happiness to mankind than the discovery of a new star.” —Jean Anthelme Brillat-Savarin
Recipe: Cosmic Crisp Apple Slices with Lavender Mascarpone Dip
America's new uber-apple gets creamed.
-Full Post-
In a small jar or ramekin, pour the oil over the herbs, cover in plastic wrap, and let steep for at least an hour, and up to overnight. Use a fine tea strainer to filter out the flavored oil into another small vessel, pressing lightly on the solids. You can use the squeezed-out herbs in salad dressing. Makes about two teaspoons of oil.
Scoop the mascarpone into a bowl, and add about half the oil, and the pinch of salt. Stir in thoroughly and taste - this may be enough for you, or you may want to add all the oil at once. Serve with thin slices of unpeeled, very crisp apple.
Notes: This simple dip was dreamed up and designed for the sweet, ultra-crunchy new Cosmic Crisp apple, but it would pair well with other varieties in that vein, like the Jazz, Honeycrisp, Macoun, or even the much tarter Granny Smith. One teaspoon of the oil per half cup of the creamy cheese is quite subtle; two teaspoons gives it a definite herbal scent. The reason to strain out the oil in a separate step is to make sure all the bits of herb are left behind, so the dressing is pure white and the flowery aroma is a surprise.
Ingredients
Directions
In a small jar or ramekin, pour the oil over the herbs, cover in plastic wrap, and let steep for at least an hour, and up to overnight. Use a fine tea strainer to filter out the flavored oil into another small vessel, pressing lightly on the solids. You can use the squeezed-out herbs in salad dressing. Makes about two teaspoons of oil.
Scoop the mascarpone into a bowl, and add about half the oil, and the pinch of salt. Stir in thoroughly and taste - this may be enough for you, or you may want to add all the oil at once. Serve with thin slices of unpeeled, very crisp apple.
Notes: This simple dip was dreamed up and designed for the sweet, ultra-crunchy new Cosmic Crisp apple, but it would pair well with other varieties in that vein, like the Jazz, Honeycrisp, Macoun, or even the much tarter Granny Smith. One teaspoon of the oil per half cup of the creamy cheese is quite subtle; two teaspoons gives it a definite herbal scent. The reason to strain out the oil in a separate step is to make sure all the bits of herb are left behind, so the dressing is pure white and the flowery aroma is a surprise.