Apple orchards still bloom along the roads of western Pennsylvania and Ohio, marking the journey of “Johnny Appleseed.” Almost 150 years ago, he walked through this region, giving away seeds of greenings, russets, Baldwins, and Grimes Goldens from an old leather bag, filled at wayside cider mills “back east.” As the first fruit ripened, pioneer women happily looked up forgotten apple cake “rules,” whose fading ink told of mothers left behind in the Pennsylvania Dutch counties, or in the Shenandoah Valley.
from Cake Tour of the U.S.A: Favorite Recipes From Every Corner of This Cake-Loving Country
This fall weather has me craving an apple picking experience, a real apple picking experience. I’ve been investigating, trying to secure a trustworthy location via an appeal to my local facebook crew. Pardon my français:
Where can I go to pick apples that have not been fucked by pesticides and/or fracking? Also, I don’t want to be surrounded by children with face paint or kids in line for a hayride. I just want trees with apples on them and baskets for my pickings.
And much like a Johnny Appleseed crossing my path in historical times, a friend bestowed a box of wholesome, grow-with-love apples, so perhaps a Hasty Mary Apple Cake is in my future. Stay tuned.
May Apples Cross Your Path!
#TBT (Throw Back Thursdays) glimpse into the vintage visual feasts in my personal collection of food and entertaining books.