Can something so simple can be so perfect?
Maybe that’s just it, the simplest things are the most perfect. Nothing we could build, create, manufacture, could reach such perfection.
I’m a firm believer that atmosphere plays an important role in taste, enjoyment, pleasure, etc., but today’s apple I couldn’t pass up commenting on.
Yes, we hiked through the wilderness near one of my favorite lakes in one of my favorite spots in the world. It was in the 50’s, sunny, we were with good friends and our boys had a new friend in tow and we’re enjoying cracking the ice in the stream, finding a snake (really?), and throwing rocks. It’s January and a long weekend, the air is crisp, and I could have walked forever today.
We stopped when we finally reached the beach. Apparently, I had accidentally taken the extremely long route, but no one seemed to mind–certainly not me. We had bananas, dried fruits, nuts, even a special request from the friend: a Nutella and almond sandwich. It was quite good (I had a bite). But we also had apples. Red and green, I’m more of a fan of the Fujis or the Galas, the ones that are somewhat more yellow with flecks of red. But these were red and green, I had a red one.
If you stop to think about things, which you tend to do when you’re on a lakeside in mid-afternoon with nothing else to do and nowhere else to go and even better, nowhere else to be, you can wonder how the apple works. The skin just thick enough to keep in the juices but let you break through it with your teeth. Some apples are juicy and drip down your wrist while others are maybe crispier but drier. This was a good balance of crisp and juice. The crispness is something I realized I very much enjoy in food. It didn’t go unnoticed that the Nutella and almond sandwich (with full almonds) was very crunchy, and that made it all the more enjoyable. I think that’s why I like Chinese chicken salads, those crunchy noodles in there. I think I need to keep this in mind for my restaurant that will never be.
The crisp and crunch of the apple out of doors standing next to the lake. The moment needs to stop in time and be used like a power source, something from which I can pull strength when I need it or when daily breath is not as simple or carefree. Each bite is as good as the last. I don’t know how the juice or liquid sits in the substance that makes up the apple. I don’t understand enough of molecules or biology … or if this is even biology, but to wonder how does taste get into those cells and how is it distributed more in this apple than another one. Particularly this one. I don’t swoon or overly react, but it’s just that each bite is a treat. Maybe I should swoon or overly react. Maybe I should just write about that apple at the lake. Maybe I should just write about the small moments that make up each day so that I don’t forget them … and I appreciate them.