Apple Review #9: Ingrid Marie

I think there’s something interesting too about the association with apples and America. Apples, a non-native fruit, are thought to come from an ancestor in Kazakhstan — and were largely brought here in apple format by Europeans. The Dutch in particular, I believe. It was thought that the indigenous true Americans were unsophisticated regarding agriculture, but we know this isn’t true in a number of directions, including with apples — they had mastered grafting and reportedly had apple orchards grown not from seed but from that grafting practice, and of course this level of abundance and technique could not be tolerated by the intruding colonists, who would run the indigenous owners from the orchards, apparently sometimes girdling the trees so that the whole orchard slowly died and forced the owners to abandon the trees. We brought they apple. They embraced it. We said, no, not for you, not like that, only for us. So even there, so early, the apple is associated with colonization — it is, in a sense, an intrusive, invading fruit. And then I think now of how the apple still represents America so well — how we like things to be sanitized and sweet and uncomplicated, how we don’t like the weird-looking apples, the different apples, how we want them to look a certain way, taste a certain way, and the rest can get fucked. How we still say, no, not for you, not like that, only for us, as we deny prosperity and refuse access and kick people out of the country — zip-tying children before disappearing the parents. Relentlessly pruning this tree even of its healthiest branches and most interesting fruit to satisfy that cruel, colonizer urge. Polishing this old rotten apple until its just raw red mush, yet still insisting, this is how it must be, this is how it must look, eat the apple. Tangentially, I also wonder how lower rates of drinking (supposedly, at least) among younger generations or even older generations (often due to GLP-1 agonists like Ozempic) might impact apple production for cider, which could limit more of those interesting heirloom varieties which only end up in ciders, anyway. What do we lose when we simplify, commodify, when we eradicate nuance and seek uniformity? A lot, I think. So I think a lot about the apple and America. And it’s hard not to think about America right now, being on the very edge of so many bad things. Odd, ramblings, perhaps foolish thoughts. Which is to say, maybe I should just eat a fucking apple and shut up because this has gone on too long.

Today, a very not-American apple —

The Danish-in-origin apple: Ingrid Marie.

(Also called the Karin Schneider, which is to say it’s named after either your homeroom teacher from 8th grade, or the German version of the lady who always has to speak to the manager.)

My review of the Ingrid Marie apple, early Oct, from Scott Farm (VT):

This will be a very good example of why the ratings I give in the videos can change, sometimes dramatically, toward the end. Because initially I ate that apple and was mostly like, “well, fuck this apple,” not in a way where I wanted to step on it and smash it with my heel so that none other may taste its foulness, but rather because it was a dullard’s lump and why bother?

Thing is, I kept eating it — after peeling it, because I tend to peel the second half of the apple I eat, sometimes with a peeler, sometimes like a Neanderthal using my teeth — and found more and more to love about it, to the point where I juggled my score up considerably higher.

Anyway — to start, it’s a pretty apple. Like, very pretty. Richly red, with fingers of pale jade at the top. Almost too pretty to eat.

The initial flavor was honestly a bit underwhelming, or maybe just regular ol’ whelming, I don’t know. Mid, as the kids might say. A tart punctuation with a pleasing sweetness, but nothing off the charts — and texturally, those flavors were packed in a softer apple. Not mealy, really, but with little resistance — a sort of obey in advance kind of apple. An apple that acquiesces to the oppression of the teeth. And yet —

Then I peeled it and kept eating and found myself enjoying it more with every bite. I found a sour, savory pruney-tamarindy tang in there, a hint of date and raisin. The softer apple became less troubling without having to chew the skin in contrast. Its cream-yellow flesh surprised me as I ate it. And in the end, I found myself enjoying it. Reviews I read online were wildly divergent — some calling it bland, others calling about its intense flavor. I found it squarely in the middle, which made it a nice enough apple, indeed.

Bumping it from the 3.5 I gave it in the video here to a healthy 5.

Oh, looks like Staircase in the Woods is still $2.99, if you want to wander up a mysterious staircase and end up in a nightmare place!

(Reviews: Honeycrisp, Sweetie, Crimson Crisp, Knobbed Russet, Cortland, Maiden’s Blush, Cox’s Orange Pippin, Reine des Reinettes)

Ingrid Marie: A soft shrug turns to a nod and soon yields a small smile