The Apple Crumble

A couple of days in Dartmouth, in the South Hams (from the old English word “Hamme” meaning an enclosed or sheltered place FYI) and back to London where I crashed against the planning of organized world.
When taking the train in the fun and eclectic town of Totnes, I sat there contemplating the idea of going to, who knows, Southampton maybe. But attracted by the idea of meeting some familiar faces in the big city, I thought it would be cool to spend a couple of days wandering around the busy, ever-clicking machinery of London streets and in the mean time have a few laugh with old time and newly made friends.
When the train was getting to Reading station, I realized how close I was of my sister’s and a few days with the incomparable and warm company of the most familiar of all faces. But decided to keep going with shameful guilt of softening down and not being truth to my hardcore travelling spirit I believed I had going on. But right then I realized I was somehow tired and didn’t need that travelling eager anymore. At London, truth to my disorganized and keen-on-improvisation nature , I called a few people only to find out everyone had plans and were organized for the evening and next day. A glance of the London lifestyle, and after the prospect of mixing in the London crowd purposelessly, I decided to head back to the always welcoming Park House in Abingdon, where Gaby and Joe were almost drowning in an apple flood.
Moved by a naive thrust of eco friendliness, I set myself into not wasting oh so many apples and try to do something useful of my few last days before starting the new job. So talking to my sister, Joe and everybody I met that weekend basically we planned the strategy. I would pick as many apples as possible on Sunday morning, leaving those trees right down to their bones I was confident. Then Monday morning was going to be used to buy all the jam jars, ingredients and utensils needed for the “jam factory” as I called it, so in the afternoon I would make unthinkable quantities of apple jams that we would take to my sister’s local Butcher where they could hopefully sell for us and I could add the profits to the funds raised so far during JOGLE 2010. What a plan!
Enthusiastically, I embarked myself in my fruit picking Sunday morning and was loving it. Feeling such a farmer boy. And right here, is where the crumbling starts.
The naive intention of picking all the apples was soon demoralised after one and half hours, around 60 kg of apples and looking back at the trees to see no difference at all. The bloody trees! They looked untouched. Soooo many apples! And that was only 2 out 5 trees.
One massive bag, the kitchen sink, a big box and a apple flooded kitchen later, I decided it was enough. Back to research and look for the mighty apple jam recipe that would delight many untrusting Oxfordshire residents with the little known qualities of the very well known fruit for jam making purposes.
Monday lunch arrived and I was starting to feel the weight of the enterprise I have taken upon. I was cooking for my sister and I, and haven’t even started with the jam cooking. After about 20 apples peeled, I knew deep inside this ship was very soon running aground... A big apple crumbling failure of my skills as a untrained fruit picker, untrained cook and untrained eco mentalist.
No details will be giving of how hard or disappointing were the next few hours for this failed entrepreneur, but here’s a few conclusions and lessons I will remember of all this.
If you haven’t heard of apple jam before, there’s a reason for it. They are shit for it. Or at least the ones in my sister’s garden are.
Do not try to peel a kitchen-full load of apples on your own. And do not try to invite friends to help you out, it won’t be appreciated I am certain.
When trying to do some kind of charitable job, make sure to give it a try and be sure that is doable before you proudly tell everyone. The shameful notifying of failure is a very embarrassing moment.
If you’re in anyway riding, keep it on... if you’re not, get up and go for a ride, you’ll feel loaded with energy afterwards. Just think twice how you spend it all! Jam making... uhhhhmmm!!!

Fonzie the Fruit Picker (Mind the scarf, my sister's)



Fruit picking utensils...



Joe will eat some for sure!