Farmers, fishermen, hunters. We all follow the weather. Closely.
This year on our farm, we had a bumper crop of apples. We are attributing it to the many affects of climate change. We had thought the drought through the summer might impact our harvest. But the warm weather and lack of rain swung us the other way. Sooooo many apples.
It was time to Tgu dzipdzaba apels – to peel the apples.
When we have things that have been imported into our territory, sometimes our word is similar to the language of the person who brought it – with a smalgyax flourish of course. In this instance “apples” become “apels”.
We had started our season by taking our first harvest to a local apple press. They UV pasteurize it and we freeze it in cartons. This year, we took a truckload and we knew we were going to have twice as much yet to come. Truth be told. I still have a fridge dedicated to their storage and a freezer full of pressed juice.
We decided with this many apples we would need to press our own. Now apple pressing can be hard work with a traditional press. After some YouTube research by my father in law and a very nifty example of a home press made out of a washing machine, we decided we could fashion something of our own. Ours would be built from a new and dedicated motor originally designed as a garborator and a hydraulic home-made press.
First step was to wash all the apples thoroughly and then remove blemishes and the cores. You don’t actually have to remove the cores. There is some school of thought that the seeds have a level of cyanide might pose a risk at a high enough quantity. I don’t think the commercial presses remove the seeds and it’s actually the same compound that gives almonds their lovely taste, such as found in almond extract. But better safe than sorry.
We then guided them through the machine to crush them.
The pulp was then fed into our press, which is mostly a net, a bucket with holes, a press and patience.
The results were DELICIOUS.
I cannot describe the serious taste extravaganza that you are seeing photographed here. If there was a word to describe a the taste, it would be fresh.
It doesn’t look like it changes the world in a big way. But these apples have been tended by our family, now by three generations. They have been handpicked and pressed with our own hands. It’s food security, that tastes like home. It feels like it feeds your soul. It feels similar to when we put away fish, moose meat, medicines. We feel a part of the world around us in a way that is reciprocal and respectful.
So yes, it’s just apple juice. But it’s also time with our family, on our land, harvested and pressed by us together. It’s pretty much everything.
– Jessica Wood
Thanks for sharing, wonderful.
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In our culture, or at least in my family, we never had that. We are a military family and never lived near my grandparents. A special time for me was parts of the summer that I spent in Vermont with one of my grandmothers. We would pick blackberries in the woods and she would bake, can and make jellies. Those small moments give me an inkling of what the apples mean to you. Thank you for sharing this in your beautiful post.
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