DrunkenBlog

I Heart Honey Crisp Apples (and really hate ham)

I'm not one to overly-praise produce. I like trying new things, but hey, half the time if I'm trying new fruit its to see what kind of milkshake I can get out of it (hint, mango + rum + ginger + cardamon makes an awesome milkshake) but I came across these Honey Crisp dealies and have fallen head over heels.

I mean, I like apples, but heretofore the only kinds I really gravitated towards were the 'pink lady' and 'Macoun' varieties. I've gotten a lot better lately, but domestic things are still an area in which I'm often more confused than anything, but these things are just exceptional so they caught my notice.

In fact I was half wondering if these were either a happy genetic accident or some sort of franken-apple I'd never heard of... if so, I was all set to proclaim the wonders of genetic engineering and try to buy stock. While googling, I found:

Honey Crisp is the new sensation in the apple world, a large, sweet apple with crisp "to-die-for" texture!

Believed to be an offspring of Macoun and Honey Gold, Honey Crisp was introduced in 1991 by the University of Minnesota breeders at Excelsior, MN. Both its parents were noted for having excellent flavor, moderate sized fruit, and "ok" texture. Honey Crisp's flavor is perhaps not as dramatic as Macoun at its peak, but is first rate.

The kicker in Honey Crisp is its explosively crisp texture. No other apple matches its crispness, but it does bruise easily.

Check these things out if you get around to it and happen to see them in the produce section, they're worth it. They're the first piece of produce to ever win the Official DrunkenBlog Seal of Approval™.

Now above I mentioned I was... domestically challenged... but when I mention that to people they usually nod and smile but don't really have an appreciation of the sheer scale of my ineptitude and why it's so impressive that I have a few recipes under my belt. There are a few stories I could tell that would show it off, but "the ham story" usually seals the deal.

I have a nasty habit of making bets and deals with friends and people I'm involved with. And at one point I was involved with someone who, as part of our deal, requested that I eat healthier and start eating some at home. This was somewhat of a tall order, as I'd been living in an apartment for about 9 months at that point and still didn't know if the stove worked... because I'd never tried it, and really never eaten something there that hadn't been brought home.

This was during a crunch time, so I thought it through and figured, hey, I could just get some sandwich stuff and would be keeping my end but wouldn't have to deal with cooking nor buying pots and pans.

The idea was that I could hey, go out and eat breakfast at my favorite haunt, and take a sandwich and stuff for lunch, and grab a sandwich while I was working on the deadline that evening and be good to go. Wouldn't take a lot of effort, but would be miles healthier than my current state. It was a go.

But while it was a go, it was also uncharted territory. I decided that I hadn't had ham and swiss sandwiches for awhile, and it seemed pretty neutral which meant I could have whatever I wanted with it. So I basically needed ham, swiss, lettuce, mustard, etc. I had my list, and walked the half a block to the little mom and pop store near my building.

Their produce section was right there when you walked in, so lettuce it was. It didn't take long for the older woman there to realize I was in distress and ask if she could help me, as, well, I was standing there squeezing a head of lettuce in confusion.

"Can I help you with something?"

"Yes, do you have any lettuce that isn't frozen?"

"That's cabbage, dear."

That probably should have been a red flag that this was not going to turn out well, but I went with it and got the lettuce. Next up was meat and cheese, which I asked her about, and she directed me back to the butcher counter which was basically a tiny little window to a tiny little room with an old guy slicing stuff up with the white apron and hat. Old school.

"Can I help you?"

"Yes, I need some sliced ham and swiss cheese"

"How much do you need?"

*blink*

At this point I was in trouble, as I wasn't really sure how much I needed. I knew I wanted enough for at least a few days... but had no clue as to what that translated into in terms of weight and size. The only thing that came to mind was the packages I'd seen in the fridge when I was a kid we'd had for our school lunches, so I sort of had an idea of size... so I just kind of made a gesture that I thought roundabouts matched the size I'd seen in our fridge as a kid.

"Oh, OK. About six pounds then?"

I had to do another mental calculation, this time translating ham poundage into a unit of measurement I could relate to... McDonald's Quarter Pound hamburgers. All the while trying not to look like a complete retardo.

I'd usually have one of those when I ate there, but every once in awhile when I was really hungry I could take two of them. So, my quick reasoning went, six pounds of ham would translate into approximately 24 sandwiches. If I had two sandwiches a day over a week, that'd be about 14 sandwiches gone. A few of the nights I might make them a reasonably-healthy midnight snack while working on the deadline, so I could add in another three, bringing myself to 17.

And of course some days I might end up skipping the sides altogether and just having two sandwiches for the meal... so add in another three... plus since I'd not be going out as much, someone might stop by and also want a sandwich, so it couldn't hurt to have some extra. So, I nodded sagely, six pounds would do just fine, and told the butcher so.

"You know, you're really supposed to call these orders in ahead of time. You'll have to come back around five and I'll have it for you. How thick do you need it?"

"Um, just for sandwiches, so not too thick."

"Oh, for sandwiches? Ok, thin sliced then. Do you need anything else?"

"Yes, I'll need a like amount of swiss cheese."

At this point I apologized for not calling it in, but really just thought that maybe this was how this place just sorta worked. I so wasn't putting two and two together yet, that he was more annoyed at the size of the order on such short notice. In fact (to my burning, burning shame) I still hadn't put two and two together until I took the slip he gave me and went back up to the register to settle up and was told I'd ordered just a little less than $70 worth of ham and cheese. At this point I'd have just looked stupid if I didn't buy it, so buy it I did.

So I had to go back to pick up my order, which, honestly I thought about skipping... but I had just spent $70 on ham and cheese and well, it's $70. So I'll have a little extra, no big deal. Well I get there, and the guy behind the counter gives me this huge pile of shaved ham. I mean, it was just frickin' enormous. He also informed that he'd thrown some extra in there, although the reason why has been lost to time. I was still staring at the ham in a mild form of shock when he passed the fricking gigantic package of sliced swiss cheese through the window.

I can't really express how large this looked; there are whole dinner hams you can buy that are under six pounds, but when its shaved and folded over on itself its volume is even larger. It was just frickin' huge, but there wasn't much I could really say. Just had to take my combined twelve pounds of deli meats and cheese back home and enjoy that really lovely dumbass feeling.

A positive spin had to be put on the situation, and I really tried. But, and here is a really damn big rub, you really don't put a quarter of a pound worth of ham into a sandwich. I mean, maybe if you are getting one of those yummo thick deli subs like a club... but that is a lot of ham and cheese in one damn sandwich. By about the second day I was starting to really not look forward to eating. That god-damned pile of ham just didn't seem to be lessening at all, and by the third day it was just taunting me.

I know, you wouldn't think it would be possible to be taunted by a pile of ham in your fridge, but that's what it was coming to... but I stuck it out and put on a brave face. Fast forward to a week later, and things had come to a head. I'd been trying my hardest to eat this stuff down over a week and a half and it wasn't even quite half-gone. I'd been pimping it out to friends. Anything. The situation was lost at this point, and quite frankly, even the idea of eating another piece of ham was just sorta wigging me out.

But you can't throw away that much ham, I'd just feel way too guilty about that... so I went and bought a few loafs of bread and sandwich baggies and that night started making sandwiches. A lot of sandwiches. I filled up a back pack with them. I'm not going to say where it was that it happened, but I ended up walking around like Johnny Appleseed, handing out sandwiches from my back pack to every homeless guy I could find on the way to and from work and prolly confusing a hell of a lot of people. Luckily, no one at work asked why I was refrigerating my backpack. It still took two days to get them all handed out.

Moral of the story?

Well I'm sure there are several if you look hard enough, the most obvious being that I'm a dumbass. But the one that I try to keep in mind is that people are complete and utter idiots when trying to navigate tasks that are well outside of their frame of reference. And I still hate ham.

 Posted by drunkenbatman
    October 04, 2004, at 11:44 PM