There are seventy-five hundred varieties of apples in the world, a third of these get grown in the United States. If you are still picking up Red Delicious at the grocery you’re missing . . . a lot . . . of great apples.
Now most of these varieties come from crosses of heirloom trees and their differences lay mostly in minute fluctuations in sweetness. It is also worth noting, how very difficult it would be to find samples of all apple varieties in any one place.
Fruit trees are regionally specific, but the Pacific Northwest is a major player in apple production.
There aren’t many types of fruit that offer this level of variety. Nor, perhaps, share the apples level of popularity.
In recent years the types of apples you’d find at a local grocer has expanded. To some degree this is being pushed by a more global market.
However, family orchards, like you find on the hills above Hood River, have done their part in the propagation of old and introduction of new apple types, as well as other fruit varieties.
Hillsides filled with orchards and exposure to so many different types of fruit is the reason we drive to the Hood River a few times every Fall.
The Kiyokawa Family Orchard grows around a hundred varieties of apples, from Akane to Zestar, most of which won’t show-up in the produce aisle at your local grocer.
There’s also a couple dozen different types of pears . . . Anjou to Warren, and again lots of unique names. At any given point in the season there will be thirty different boxes and bins of tree ripened fruit to choose from.
What is ready for sale sits in a ring of wooden racks supporting boxes loaded with fruit and wearing placards noting sweetness level and some tasting notes. You buy a container (bag or box) sized to meet your needs and then fill that bag from any of the available boxes.
We chose the standard bag which held a couple dozen apples and half a dozen pears. This translated into six different apple varieties and two different kinds of pears. We also picked up a couple of small bins of plums, most of which were devoured on the trip back over the mountain to home.
Is it really fall before you fill a bag with fresh apples grown on the hills overlooking the Columbia River?
. . . I don’t think so.