27 Sept: I toddled down the stairs this morning, I often toddle first thing in the morning because the joints don’t work like they used to, and I was greeted with a clear, sparkling, autumn-ish aroma of apples laced through the cold morning air. I really must turn the heating back on; it was flipping cold in the house this morning. Pathetic. End of September and I’m already looking at burning gas to keep my nose from freezing … and dripping as it usually does when it’s cold. It’s simply no good having my nose drip into a not-yet-fermenting bowl of apples as I lean over it to check for carbon dioxide bubbles.
Well, a report is a report is a report. There’s nothing to report. No bubbles. No bugs floating in it either, which surprised me a bit after I had to chase apple maggots across the worktop as I chopped up the apples. So far just a wonderfully light perfume of apples is the only signal that something is ‘cooking’ in the kitchen.
So with that in mind, namely that nothing whatsoever is happening with my apples yet, here’s a photo of my bowl of bobbing apples plus two humungous jars of Danish-style pickles called “Asier”. These are made from pickling cucumbers that are allowed to grow to a size equal to a basketball player’s right shoe. We grow three vines every year in the greenhouse, keep them well watered, and then just let them grow beyond what most people think of as a proper cucumber. Nearly marrow size they are. One of these overgrown cucumbers is truly larger and longer than my foot, and I wear a size 38 shoe. Yes, I know that’s small but when was the last time you saw a cucumber wearing a size 38 shoe, huh?
So, here’s hoping that something happens with my apples by tomorrow morning. If not, I’m apt to start posting holiday photos and bore everyone to death.