One of the last trees that anyone thinks of planting in the garden is the apple. And so many gardens have the relics of the planting of past generations, coming to bits in an odd corner, unpruned, unfed, unloved. Over all, the apple has been downgraded since the huge flow of all the year round fruit coming from all parts of the globe mangoes, paw paws, kiwis and so on.
Most elderly people will tell you that apples, anyway, don't taste as they used to. Certainly, the nicely polished, uniformly shaped, no doubt multi sprayed versions we now get from abroad, do not. The odd time, you do get a flavoury batch from this country and from England to remind you that apples really can have a distinctive taste.
An article in a Swiss paper even seems to say that taste doesn't really matter as far as fruit researchers and developers are concerned what occupies their time and energy is to develop a strain that is resistant to mildew and to scab and, for ecological and economic reasons, thus to limit the amount of spraying and general treatment.
The Last Hurrah of the apple was, surely during the Second World War, when the apple and other home grown fruits were all we had. No oranges, no bananas, and certainly none of the fancy stuff of today. Currants and gooseberries and damsons and plums in small amounts. And crab apples in the fields. Grapes only in certain miraculous circumstances.
A friend of some age thinks he remembers in his parents' suburban garden of an acre and more, that there were about forty apple trees, including at least a dozen varieties. He's not sure of the names but thinks there were Bramleys, russets in some quantity, August Peach, Cox's Orange. He's not sure of the names, but says he still remembers the distinctive tastes. Another friend remembers, in his suburban garden, the October gathering in of the apples, and them being laid on newspaper in the upper floor of the barn. They would last the family right through to about Easter.
Is all this mere nostalgia? No, basically there is truth in the assertion that apples used to have more taste. Occasionally you find a producer who grows for flavour and goodness. And, now and then, an ordinary citizen cherishes his or her favourite.
Today we have in the shops beautifully symmetrical mounds of beautifully uniform apples, which taste of nothing much.