Well Preserved

When Dana placed a 5-pound bag of apples in our shopping cart I barely blinked.  I paid more attention than I would have a year ago – knowing that they are one of the few locally farmed foods that we can buy in the middle of winter.

A few hours later I found myself mindlessly reaching for an apple from the counter. It wasn’t a great apple.  Most of them have marks, are fairly dry and wear the look of something stored marginally.  But it was an apple after all.

I sat on the couch and had a bite and, to my surprise, I found myself reminiscing about apples.  The first memory was a strong one – I went to college with a woman named Chow.  We weren’t close; she was shy, academic and quiet while I was loud, angry and smelling my own teen spirit.  We were always pleasant with each other and frequently traded niceties – but weren’t close.  I don’t think I’ll ever forget the one significant conversation we shared.

Chow was from Viet Nam.  She fled the country with the help of her family at a young age.  She escaped as a preteen with a younger brother.  Her parents left the country separately and Chow had to navigate harsh jungle-like conditions for 10 days to guide her brother to safety.  Hunger, cold and fear were all very real.

When the two youngsters made it to freedom they were near starved.  Chow was handed an apple – she described it as her first taste of freedom.  She claimed (and I believed her) that she ate an apple every day since.  I don’t eat apples often but when I do, I almost always think of her.  She continues to inspire me with that memory.

More memories flooded in as well:

• Apple pie made by my now-late mentor was his specialty
• Apple crumble is an all-time favourite – and one that I remember discussing with my Grandmother in grand detail
• Vivid memories of stuffing apples with brown sugar, wrapping in tin foil and throwing in a fire as a boy scout.
• Eating apples in the back country of a Provincial Park as I worked on the trails with a small team.  One insisted that an apple could make your mouth feel like you just brushed your teeth.  Not sure why that memory stuck, but it did.
• Memories of throwing crab apples into the neighbors pool as a child – and the trouble that came with it.

As I ate the apple I found myself surprised at how strong the memories were – as much as facts and mental images flooded my mind’s eye, I found myself processing strong emotions at the same time.  Some were sweet, some a little more bitter – all were very vivid.

Are there any tastes that marinate your memory?