Thank goodness the Honey Crisp apple is about to replace the Red Delicious

If you grew up long enough ago, you had two choices: glossy, shiny, crispy, tasteless Red Delicious apples and the all the other ones that never looked as good, but tasted so much better. Turns out there’s a wonderful story there. One of my favorite podcasts, NPR’s Money, has the explanation of how that’s changed, why, and why the Honey Crisp will retain its flavor at a taste to the consumer.

https://www.npr.org/sections/money/2018/05/03/607384579/the-apple-that-changed-the-world

And here’s an article from Slate expressing relief that the transition is almost complete. Note that there’s also a link at the end to a story about the prematurely declared death of Crocs.

https://slate.com/human-interest/2018/08/red-delicious-apples-suck-so-good-thing-theyre-no-longer-the-most-produced-in-american-orchards.html

Good Riddance to the Red Delicious, an Apple That Sucks

The loathsome fruit has finally slipped from its spot as the dominant apple in American orchards, and not a moment too soon.

A Red Delicious apple held in someone's hands.
Thammie Cascales on Unsplash

The Red Delicious is no longer the dominant apple in American orchards, the U.S. Apple Association said last week, after lasting five decades in the top spot. The Gala apple is now first; Red Delicious second; Granny Smith third. By 2020, the Honeycrisp, which so prized by consumers that they’ll pay higher prices for the privilege of eating one, may crack the growers’ top three.

Red Delicious’ slippage will be mourned by few. As Sarah Yager wrote in the Atlantic in a history of the variety a few years ago, the Red Delicious is a “paradox”: “alluring yet undesirable, the most produced and arguably the least popular apple in the United States.” They’re gorgeous to look at like a cartoon apple landed in your real-life fruit bowl. It has a deep red color and perfectly unblemished skins; its bodies always taper to a perfect little five-pointed bottom. But its flesh tastes—as the two enthusiasts who run the apple fan website Orange Pippin write—too sweet, “like a slightly over-ripe melon”; also, “the skin can be quite tough.” In understated tones, Orange Pippin’s expert apple-tasters add: “Overall Red Delicious can be quite a refreshing apple to eat, but its chief characteristic is that it has almost no flavor at all.”

Besides being awful to eat, the Red Delicious is also symbolically hateable. Its popularity is part of a general trend in mid- to late-20th-century American agriculture that privileged sturdy and beautiful varieties over the fragile, ugly, and tasty. The Red Delicious’ beauty and inedibility are symbolic of a much bigger problem with American industrial produce: Red Delicious, supermarket tomatoes, and baby carrots make up a Potemkin village of produce designed to make us feel like we’re “eating healthy” while failing altogether to appetizing.

The Red Delicious is the apple we foist on children to make ourselves feel better. My most formative encounters with the Red Delicious, like many people’s, took place during childhood. Red Delicious is a classic “lunchbox apple,” the kind of fruit you get when somebody in charge has decided that the kids need to eat fruit—and those kids are being fed at scale. Nutritionist Ellyn Satter writes that the way to get kids to eat vegetables isn’t to beg, cajole, or reward their consumption, but to “matter-of-factly” model your own enjoyment of produce. Yet how could any sane adult person enjoy the kind of fruits and vegetables American kids are given? When I encountered a Red Delicious, or a salad in a school lunch featuring dry cucumber slices, hard-as-a-bullet cherry tomatoes, and lifeless romaine, I always knew in my heart that the adults pushing this stuff on us wouldn’t touch it with a 10-foot pole. Kids are smart, and they know bullshit when they see it. Bring on the Galas, and a better tomorrow.

Read more from Slate: 
• What It’s Like to Have Olive Garden’s Never-Ending Pasta Pass
• Crocs Are Awful. We’ll Miss Them When They’re Gone (if They Ever Leave).
• What’s the Laziest Acceptable Thing You Can Bring to a Potluck?
• Why Facebook Parenting Groups Are So Weirdly Addictive

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