What pick-your-own apple orchards tell us about the American economy.
By Daniel Gross Posted Monday, Oct. 8, 2007, at 3:02 PM ET
Autumn has returned, and
with it comes what Robert Frost called the "rumbling sound of load on
load of apples coming in." In the Northeast, many of these apples come
from pick-your-own farms, where hordes of visitors pay for the
opportunity to harvest fruit themselves. In an October 2006 article,
reprinted below, Daniel Gross argues that this tradition is more
idiotic than idyllic, representing American tendencies to esteem
overconsumption and balk at nature that's a little too natural.
A few weeks ago, the New York Times ran a poignant article
(subscription required) about anguished fruit farmers in California.
Because of a crackdown on illegal immigrants, they couldn't find
workers willing to pick their pears, even at $150 per day. And as a
result, perfectly good fruit rotted in the fields.
Perhaps the
California farmers, who depend on migrant Mexican labor, have got the
wrong business model. Instead of paying workers to pick their fruit,
they should try another strategy: making customers pay to pick the
fruit themselves. Savvy farmers
all over the country have discovered a practice that might not work as
a nationwide agricultural policy, but that has allowed some
economically inefficient orchards to thrive: Encourage yuppies and
their progeny to come pick your fruit—they'll pay handsomely for the
privilege, buy more than they'd ordinarily consume, and then shell out
for all sorts of other value-added products. It's the best use of child
labor since Manchester's early 19th-century textile mills.
Apple picking is a cherished rite of fall, a wholesome and fun
family outing, a throwback to a simpler time when people weren't so
disconnected from the production of their sustenance. I look forward to
it every year. It's also a wasteful scam.
We've been educated (or bullied, depending on your outlook) by foodies like Alice Waters and Dan Barber to adopt the European concept of terroir—the
best stuff to consume is the stuff grown in closest proximity. For
people in the Northeast, that's fine in the summer, when the Union Square greenmarket
bursts with locally grown exotic greens, yellow squash, and heirloom
tomatoes of such flavor (and cost) as to make a gourmand weep.
But
in the fall, while the region's landscape lights up with foliage, the
farm stands' color palette becomes more drab: potatoes, root
vegetables, pumpkins, gourds, and, of course, apples. And so, to the
pick-your-own orchards we go.
Silverman's Farm,
the farm I frequent in Fairfield County, Conn., is a pick-your-own farm
for Type A's: a high-volume, diversified joint. It attracts pickers
from New Haven, New York, and all points in between. (You can rusticate
and still be back to Park Slope in time for dinner.) Several tractors
take turns hauling wagons with families up the slopes, and then back to
the large store, where pumpkins, jams, ciders, pies, and flowers are
sold. After jostling through the crowds—gaining access to the choice
apple trees and a quick checkout lane requires the same level of
competitiveness, foresight, and sharp elbows as winning admission to
top nursery schools—it's across the street to the petting zoo for the
exquisite pleasure of having llamas and goats lick pellets out of your
hands.
On Sunday, we experienced a more laid-back, echt version of apple-picking on a postcard-perfect day at Bartlett's Orchard in the Berkshires.
The apple-picking experience sheds light on some unflattering truths about the American economy.
First,
we regard nature as a realm to be conquered and tamed for our
recreation, not to be preserved and nourished for its own sake. At the
orchards, kids are instructed on how to pick apples—twist them
gently—in such a way that leaves the tree intact. (Of course, for every
child who closely adheres to the instructions, there's another who
shakes the branch heartily, sending a cascade of smaller apples,
leaves, and branches down to the ground.) But these trees are hardly
natural. They aren't the sort of majestic, voluptuous apple trees you
would have found in the Garden of Eden. They're dwarf apple trees,
stumpy bushes engineered so that their fruit grows just a few feet off
the ground. They're the veal calves of the fruit world.
In the United States, overconsumption is encouraged as a positive
good (see under: McMansions, SUVs, all-you-can-eat buffets). Add
pick-your-own apples to the list. At Silverman's Farm,
pickers have a choice: $14 for a small bag and $24 for a large bag. At
Bartlett's, it's less: $9 for a peck (10 pounds), $15 for a bushel (20
pounds). But even though consumers here avoid all the supply-chain
costs they would pay at a grocery store, it's not that much cheaper. At
Peapod, a 3-pound bag of apples goes for $2.79, about 93 cents a pound.
And,
just as people who visit wineries end up walking away with a case
instead of a bottle, it's a given that people leave pick-your-own
orchards with a surfeit of apples. We left with two almost-full small
bags, about 20 pounds, or between 60 and 70 apples. In a good week at
home, we'll go through a dozen. Pickers tell themselves they'll put the
farm-fresh apples to good use: making homemade apple sauce, or whipping
up an apple pie. But most people don't have the time. Besides,
pick-your-own orchards sell the processed versions right there, in the
irresistible form of apple cider and apple-cider donuts. (Even when
they go to pick fresh produce, Americans use it as an excuse to consume
deep-fried, carb-loaded junk.)
Apple-picking also makes us vulnerable to that peculiarly American malady: the paradox of choice.
Sophisticated American consumers must develop the ability to pick and
choose among hundreds of varieties of wine, cheese, chocolate, and
coffee. Well, like everything else in life, apple connoisseurship can
be reduced to a convenient spreadsheet.
Did you know that Granny Smith apples are tart and are superb for pies
but poor for sauce, while Sun Crisp are tangy sweet and are very good
for salad but only fair for pies? And how can you keep track of all the
different varieties once they're in the bag? If you thought comparing
apples to oranges was a fruitless endeavor, try comparing apples to
apples.
darn the stuffs they come out with just from picking apples! hehe but disregarding all of the above info ;oP..apple pickin is fun!(speakin from experience).seeing an orchard that goes as far as ur eyes can see...the fresh ripening fruits ready to be plucked and taken a bite off..and u dun even need to climb the trees!;oP ...why oh why had the batt had to die when we wanted to take photos of the trees and all?:oS..
capt goin apple pickin anytime soon?if u do!dun forget ur camera!and of cos more importantly to share some pics ;oP hehe..just sayn hi!:oD
and lapsi is pear?amala is that thing whis is sour hoina?wats its name!!
That reminds me of a song by Meatloaf "Good girls go to heaven, bad girls go everywhere". With the true spirit of "Superbad" movie, Apple field is heaven. It's a great social platform to pick up "good girls". :D Damn, I'm nasty. ehe. According to the movie, if you want to pick up one night stand, go to the bar. But if you want some wifey material, go to the apple field. :D So, apple picking is not for suckers but seekers. What do I know? I never tried. :P
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