When I was growing up in northern British Columbia, the only apples we would get were of the macintosh variety. When we were feeling particularly decadent, we would find granny smiths. That was it. That's all that was shipped up there. Even when I lived in Edmonton for a few years, the only apples we could find were, you guessed it, macs and grannies. When my horizons had the opportunity to be expanded in the apple tasting department while living in Vancouver, guess what I always chose? Yup. Macs and grannies. I just figured that those were the kinds to cook with--macs for baking and grannies for eating. And the occasional fugi. Oh--I guess I'm selling things a bit short. We also could purchase red and golden delicious. My mistake.
Needless to say, I wasn't a big apple fan. I thought there had to be more than somewhat soggy or downright sour.
Then I moved here to PA. Holy camoly. There were apples that I'd never heard of, let alone tasted. You're going to laugh, because they probably sound pretty standard to you! Braeburn. Fuji (every day, not just on occasion). Pink lady. Pippin. Cortland. Ginger Gold (yum!) and on and on. I've fallen into apple heaven.
The other day, my husband brought home a few honey crisp apples. And I'm in love.
Crispy, crunchy, sweet and tangy goodness.
Here's a picture (or two--I had trouble with this one! LOL). I'm afraid it's the least attractive pomme of the bunch. I had already eaten the rest.