Read Online How the Hot Dog Found Its Bun by Josh Chetwynd - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Josh Chetwynd
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beauty of the new apple wasn’t immediately identified by all. When she showed some to neighbors in 1868, the apples received little fanfare. Granny died in 1870, but her apples continued on as members of her family began cultivating the new variety. In 1890 they were exhibited at the Castle Hill Agricultural and Horticultural Show. The next year they won top prize for cooking apples at the event.
Granny Smith apples really gained attention after World War I when Australian industry looked to mass ship its produce abroad. They became popular in the United States in the 1960s and by 1975 Granny Smiths represented 50 percent of all Australian apple exports (and 40 percent of the country’s overall crop). They are also produced in such Southern Hemisphere locales as New Zealand, Chile, Argentina, and South Africa. The reason for their popularity? Along with boasting excellent acidity and texture when stewed and offering a good combination of sweet and tart, Granny Smith apples also have another key characteristic—they’re tough. The apple remains edible after up to six months in cold storage and it “is nearly as resilient as a tennis ball and holds up well in shipping,” according to food author Roger Yepsen.
It seems appropriate that the apple that bears Maria Smith’s name would be as hardy as the woman who moved from one side of the world to the other, raised five children, tended to an invalid husband, and ran a farm.
Rhubarb: Bumbling builders
Rhubarb, when combined with strawberries, makes such a perfect crumble or pie that it’s often known in foodie circles as “pie plant.” In fact, although rhubarb is a vegetable, the US customs court in Buffalo, New York, broke with reality—and the fact that it’s often used in savory sauces—and decreed it a fruit in 1947 because it was so popular as a dessert stuffing. But it wasn’t always like that. Without a construction mistake, rhubarb might have never truly developed into a good go-to dessert option.
Humans have been aware of rhubarb for more than two thousand years (some suggest even longer than that). In the wild, it’s common in cool climates. Gatherers in places like Mongolia and Siberia were the first to pull its roots. While some stout Siberians stuck the veggie in pies, most people recoiled at adding early rhubarb to a regular diet. The celery-looking stalks were extremely acidic and not too pleasing to the palate.
Instead, rhubarb was used for medicinal purposes. Though it can be toxic if you take too much of it (chomping on the leaves can make you really sick), the veggie is full of oxalic acid. Today oxalic acid is used in cleaning supplies, but the ancient Greeks, Romans, and Chinese, and even the more modern British thought it was helpful for such maladies as a persistent cough. Henry VIII supposedly used rhubarb-based medicine for a long stretch late in his life. In the seventeenth century, its dried root was so coveted in England that it cost three times the price of opium. Despite the high street value, I somehow have a hard time seeing rhubarb pushers sneaking around back alleys.
As a cherished commodity, rhubarb was grown in a small plot at the posh Chelsea Physic Garden in London. Nevertheless, it must not have been too much of a focus because when some workers were brought to the garden to dig a trench near the rhubarb patch in 1815, they didn’t give the vegetable any thought. Rather than dumping the spoil from the ditch into an unused area, they tossed the dirt right on top of the garden’s rhubarb crowns.
The rhubarb was then forgotten until it was time to fill the trench again (what work was being done isn’t known). Once the spoil was cleared, the garden’s curator William Anderson made an unexpected discovery. Instead of the normal cherry-red-stalked rhubarb, up popped a paler, more tender variation of the vegetable. Anderson must have taken a taste and found the flavor to be far mellower than rhubarb’s normal
Granny Smith apples really gained attention after World War I when Australian industry looked to mass ship its produce abroad. They became popular in the United States in the 1960s and by 1975 Granny Smiths represented 50 percent of all Australian apple exports (and 40 percent of the country’s overall crop). They are also produced in such Southern Hemisphere locales as New Zealand, Chile, Argentina, and South Africa. The reason for their popularity? Along with boasting excellent acidity and texture when stewed and offering a good combination of sweet and tart, Granny Smith apples also have another key characteristic—they’re tough. The apple remains edible after up to six months in cold storage and it “is nearly as resilient as a tennis ball and holds up well in shipping,” according to food author Roger Yepsen.
It seems appropriate that the apple that bears Maria Smith’s name would be as hardy as the woman who moved from one side of the world to the other, raised five children, tended to an invalid husband, and ran a farm.
Rhubarb: Bumbling builders
Rhubarb, when combined with strawberries, makes such a perfect crumble or pie that it’s often known in foodie circles as “pie plant.” In fact, although rhubarb is a vegetable, the US customs court in Buffalo, New York, broke with reality—and the fact that it’s often used in savory sauces—and decreed it a fruit in 1947 because it was so popular as a dessert stuffing. But it wasn’t always like that. Without a construction mistake, rhubarb might have never truly developed into a good go-to dessert option.
Humans have been aware of rhubarb for more than two thousand years (some suggest even longer than that). In the wild, it’s common in cool climates. Gatherers in places like Mongolia and Siberia were the first to pull its roots. While some stout Siberians stuck the veggie in pies, most people recoiled at adding early rhubarb to a regular diet. The celery-looking stalks were extremely acidic and not too pleasing to the palate.
Instead, rhubarb was used for medicinal purposes. Though it can be toxic if you take too much of it (chomping on the leaves can make you really sick), the veggie is full of oxalic acid. Today oxalic acid is used in cleaning supplies, but the ancient Greeks, Romans, and Chinese, and even the more modern British thought it was helpful for such maladies as a persistent cough. Henry VIII supposedly used rhubarb-based medicine for a long stretch late in his life. In the seventeenth century, its dried root was so coveted in England that it cost three times the price of opium. Despite the high street value, I somehow have a hard time seeing rhubarb pushers sneaking around back alleys.
As a cherished commodity, rhubarb was grown in a small plot at the posh Chelsea Physic Garden in London. Nevertheless, it must not have been too much of a focus because when some workers were brought to the garden to dig a trench near the rhubarb patch in 1815, they didn’t give the vegetable any thought. Rather than dumping the spoil from the ditch into an unused area, they tossed the dirt right on top of the garden’s rhubarb crowns.
The rhubarb was then forgotten until it was time to fill the trench again (what work was being done isn’t known). Once the spoil was cleared, the garden’s curator William Anderson made an unexpected discovery. Instead of the normal cherry-red-stalked rhubarb, up popped a paler, more tender variation of the vegetable. Anderson must have taken a taste and found the flavor to be far mellower than rhubarb’s normal
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