Trip to an orchard to source the world’s best applesauce

Last weekend, my husband and I returned to Jones Creek Farm, not too far from the fancifully named village of Sedro Woolley, in northern WA, to pick apples.

This farm boasts at least 100 apple varieties, most of which I can guarantee you’ve never heard of. In fact, here’s a little game that will likely prove my point:

I’ve scrambled the letters for the names of just a few of Jones Creek Farm’s heirloom apple varieties. Can you figure them out? Hint, none is golden delicious or gala. (Answers at bottom):

1. shiir cepah
2. tytnnai
3. eaakn
4. alcbk dfxoor

Ready to admit that most Americans’ knowledge of apple varieties has atrophied through years of being exposed to only two or three types available in grocery stores? Good.

Then I’m ready to tell you that between my husband and I, we picked slightly more than 100 pounds of mixed heritage apples in a couple of hours.

Well, let me say this. I picked uh, slightly more than he did.

Like everything in life, we approach apple picking from different ends of the spectrum (never knew there was an apple picking spectrum? Read on).

My intent was to gather dozens of different types of apples for my mixed apple applesauce.

I never sampled a single apple off a tree (which the owners encourage you to do), because once they’re all combined, it really doesn’t seem to matter if some are unbearably sour, others bland and still others rapturously sweet. Once they’re all in the pot together, they melt into each other and a brand new, achingly splendorous taste is born!

My husband on the other hand, approaches picking apples like The Bachelor’s search for his mate. First off, he looks at their shape (of course, he admits that it’s what on the inside that counts, but somehow…), then he samples each one, taking a large bite and staring off into space for maybe three minutes while he assesses the fruitiness of the fruit or the crunchiness of the crunch or any one of 20 other norms he’s devised. Only when an apple meets his impossibly high standards, does it find its way into his bag.

Hence the apple picking score: Me: 80 pounds, He: 20.

Actually it was more like 90-10, but who’s counting.

In any case, I don’t mind that his method keeps him firmly rooted in one spot for a fortnight, while mine stiffens my arms into rototiller-like rotations as I speed down rows littered with fallen fruit.

I wouldn’t want to be forced to be an apple picker all my days, but a couple of hours was fun. The sun was shining, the aroma from rotting apples, heavenly, and I knew the ultimate outcome of my labors would be worth all the sweat that poured off my forehead turning my resolutely flat-ironed bangs into wispy curls!

We spent the next day traveling up into the Cascades, stopping often to walk or take pictures of the green river thundering beside us. It was heavenly to step back into the car, perfumed by our bags of apples.

To be continued…next up is my recipe for the world’s best and easiest applesauce (in my humble opinion)

And here are the answers to the quiz: 1. Irish peach 2. Nittany 3. Akane 5. Black oxford

Do you know an orchard worth visiting? Tell us about it.

Lynn Colwell and Corey Colwell-Lipson are mother and daughter and authors of Celebrate Green! Creating Eco-Savvy Holidays, Celebrations and Traditions for the Whole Family, and founders of Green Halloween®.