Sunday, 1 July 2007
I used to pick crab apples on the way home from primary school, stuffing my pockets with these tart little fruit. They are quite sour and it was probably equivalent the bravado displayed by kids when they buy sour confectionery nowadays. But cheaper.
As a memory thing, I have a crab apple tree at the back of the vegetable garden; partly for the fruit, partly as a shield from the neighbours. There is not a lot that you can do with crab apples. The jelly is nice but there is only so much you can eat. I pickled some one year and served them as garnishes with meat, especially pork. One year I made some wine with them. Which received popular acclaim for both flavour and colour. (It had some elderberries in it too.)
The other day, in memory of my childhood nibblings, I had a bowl of crab apples while I was working at my desk. They were tart, sharp and my teeth went furry, but full of memories.
Of late the birds have found the remainder of the crop: large, black evil-eyed kurrawongs, tiny little silver-eye finches, the ever present blackbirds and, recently, a few rainbow lorikeets (seen here broadening their diet with the birch seed catkins).