As I’ve noted, the human female considers herself an apple “aficionado,” and she brings home any and all strays to evaluate and eat them.
She has all sorts of (large, heavy) books devoted to the subject. Take this one, for example:
The names are funny. “Ashmead’s Kernel.” Who made that one up? And read the description : “Pick in October, but don’t eat until Christmas, unless pain is your thing.” And the descriptions! “Honeyed nuttiness, crisply sweet, not sugar sweet, but the succulence of a well-devilled marrow bone.” I don’t know about anyone else, but— Marrow?! bleargh!
Some of the books, I will admit, do have attractive illustrations. This one has a few plates of well-executed watercolors.
She came home from the library positively giddy the other day, because she discovered that those illustrations were just a tiny sample of the pictures from a larger, monumental work on all the apples of this realm and the one to the north.
AND THERE ARE SIX MORE VOLUMES! Really. It’s riveting reading.
It’s page after page of dubiously-linked references, put together by a small cadre of pomaceous geeks who toiled for decades to compile the definitive list of apple cultivars.
I think they just made up the names. Look at this one:
‘Winter Banana?!’ Either this is one colossal prank, or the mortals are stupider than I estimated them to be. Who names an apple after a BANANA?
But apparently, it’s a real variety.
The amount of fruit nerdery is just staggering. There has to be a way to turn the human female’s interest in the subject into mischief—or at least get some amusement out of it.
I shall have to think about this…