Apple Review #4: Knobbed Russet

Holy fucking shit, look at this Shrek-Ass Apple.

Sorry, I’m getting ahead of myself.

Before we begin, a note on how (and why) I’m reviewing these.

The why, first. Once upon a time, there was a land called Twitter, and in this festive, deranged realm, I spent a lot of time shouting my insane apple reviews to any who would hear. I did literally hundreds of them. It was silly, but fun, and we all had some fun together. And then the land called Twitter suffered a tectonic event, a cataclysm that broke it into pieces, and from the shattered fundament arose the dread land of X, which was awful, so I got the hell out of there and nuked the site from orbit. Which is to say, I also nuked my apple reviews in their entirety.

So, I want to rebuild that — and not just on Instagram, where I tend to post my “live reaction” apple mukbang “apple snack gang” reviews, because I don’t own Instagram, and a shitty person does own it, and I don’t want some digital serf just cultivating land for my social media monarchs. I own this space and feel like, hey, fuck it, let’s bring the apple reviews back, let’s formalize them, let’s codify them, let’s get them on THE BLOG because

THE BLOG IS ETERNAL

THE BLOG IS ALL

ALL HAIL BLOG

Or something.

As to how I review these: I eat the first bites of the apple on camera, post that shit to Instagram, and then I actually eat the rest of the apple on my own, in the quiet introverted solitude of my weird writer’s shed. I will peel the apples first, usually — sometimes the skin is a wonderful part of the apple, but honestly, I’m there for the APPLE MEAT. I’ll eat it, take notes as I go, and try to think really hard about what I’m tasting, which sometimes is “I taste muscat grape and paperback book paper and the wanderlust of a lonely but still-horny widow,” and other times is, “wow this tastes like an apple, you guys.” I’m sometimes sophisticated, other times, I’m just a dull penny, and we’re all going to have to deal with that.

I am not an expert on anything.

(I did write a book about apples but it’s fictional, and the apples in it are Quite Evil, so if you want Quite Evil Apples, then Black River Orchard awaits you. It’s also a very good Fall Times Spooky Season book — combining both the horror and the autumnal thing, if you are into such combinations.)

I’ll then start to keep these as a persistent list here on the site, linking to all these individual reviews. Look for that starting up maybe later this week!

Okay, that’s done, let’s review Shrek’s Ballsack — uh, I mean, this totally normal and not-at-all-scrotal apple.

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My review, Knobbed Russet from Scott Farm (VT), late September:

The Knobbed Russet.

Also known as: Knobby Russet, who I’m pretty sure was a kid I used to play kickball with. Also called the Winter Russet, the Old Maid. I might add a few more names, myself: Bubonic Orb, or Frankenstein’s Kidney. Or maybe Satan’s Canker. Belial’s Bezoar? Whatever.

The last time I ate one of these was a great sadness. It tasted like depression. It had the texture of clumpy kitty litter. Sad dust. Moist sand. Nothing good. I don’t hate a soft apple, though it’s not my preference — but I really don’t like biting into an apple and getting a mealy-shit blah-smear on my tongue. And that’s what happened the last time I had one of these.

That did not happen this time.

This time! No mealy mush! No apple gruel piped into a lumpy skin bag!

We’ll be generous and begin with the taste, which is mostly pleasing. I’m used to russets being a little more interesting, overall, in which I mean there’s usually some complexity in the taste, and this is more a straight-line to its end flavor. When I barely had bitten it, and I mean my tooth had only just punctured ITS DREAD ARMOR I mean its skin, I was immediately greeted by a pinprick of powerful tartness. Like an electric thumbtack. Bzzt.

And the flavor bore that out — what I got from that was a strong lemon sorbet slash lemon candy vibe. Which is not unpleasant if you’re a person who likes sour candy! You eat this and your lips sing after, like you just ate a handful of Sour Patch Kids. It’s assertive, just not particularly nuanced.

The flesh itself — that densely-packed, finely-grained thing is beloved by some though I’m not necessarily one of them. It’s also not really a juicy apple — it’s not some dry sphincter, either, but it’s not bringing much to the party by way of juice. Still: the flesh is fine! The meat is good!

All that said, I think it behooves us to talk about its appearance. Trust me! I’d love to live in a world where we don’t have to be so shallow with our apples, but it’s actually a little relevant — ugly fruits and vegetables don’t get to live in the grocery store aisles, okay? People don’t buy them because we’re vain, horrible creatures who value looks first and everything else a distant second.

And admittedly, when I see this apple, my first thought is, “That barnacled sphere is definitely haunted. It has seen some shit. It may have Lyme disease. It might be an egg. Some foul beast will definitely emerge from that bungled scrotum and drag me back to its mother’s lair in the fens.” It’s vainy and weird — like if Shrek were possessed by Venom. But, to be fair, the longer you look at it, the more fascinating it becomes. This leper potato is its own creature, and it’s kind of beautiful, in a “swamp bolus” or “wasp gall” kind of way.

It isn’t fun to eat, though. Chewing that skin is like eating a wallet and all the money in that wallet. It’s a hard, unforgiving affair. Like being married to a coal miner. I don’t recommend it. Peel it to eat it. Which will be hard because it’s like peeling a rock, but you’ll get there if you put your back into it.

Anyway! This is a good apple. It’s a fugly one, but tasty in its way.

Let’s call it a 6.5, shall we?

(Watch me eat it here)

(Reviews so far this year: Honeycrisp, Sweetie, Crimson Crisp)

Knobbed Russet: Sure it looks like the nutsack of a dying dryad but eat it