Smelling fresh fruit is one of the great joys of life. I didn’t realize though until this past week how much most of us are deceived by what we don’t sniff.
My realization came about after some thievery. Returning from working out in the morning, I pass by multiple apple trees on the drive home. A couple of weeks back, I noticed several trees by the side of the road where thick strands of apples ripened bright red on the branches. Took note in my head to come back and pick them.
As is likely true for most humans, I forgot about this until one morning I was capable of retaining that thought and stopped the car next to one of the trees down the street a quarter-of-a-mile from our house. I clambered over a fence, pulled branches down and deposited 20-25 pieces of the perfectly-ripened pieces of fruit into my canvas bag.
Checking the landscape to ensure no one saw me steal, I Ieapt back over the fence, scooted to my car and blasted off. Whew. Back at the house, I plopped the apples into our fruit basket.
On a typical day, I don’t think much about my sense of smell. I go about my daily routines, doing chores, running errands, finishing up projects without thinking to myself (at least not with any degree of regularity), “Oh, wow, that smells marvelous!”
A day or two after depositing the apples, I did exactly that. Walking past our fruit basket and picking up one of the bright red honey crisp, I stopped, sniffed and said to my wife, “Do you smell these apples?”
She did not. I commented on how the sweet bouquet of fresh apple permeated our kitchen. It awakened the senses.
And then, of course, it set me to wondering. Why don’t we smell store-bought apples like this? Do they have some injection inside that limits their odor (and then, by extension, their taste)? I don’t know. Perhaps.
Or is just that fresh-picked apples have a much more expansive scent. Because they recently came off the tree, their aroma is stronger, sweeter, more pervasive. It’s probably a combination of those two factors.
Think about how we go through our daily lives not receiving this (and other) scent. We stroll through supermarkets and toss bananas, grapefruits, cantaloupes, potatoes, asparagus into our shopping carts. Do you sniff the produce? Of course not. You might be termed a weirdo, or someone would make a smart remark that your nose has germs on it or a booger is hanging out. “What the heck were you thinking?”
Instead, we zombie-walk our visits to the food store. We pick, we toss. We examine prices, consider options. But we don’t really inhale through our noses, letting wonderful fragrances inside our hearts.
Maybe fruit fresh from the vine or tree will help us do that with a greater degree of regularity. I certainly am much more aware now of the perfume emitted by fresh apples.
Because of that, it also feels like my life has been oh-so-subtly enhanced. I savor the apples more when I eat them. The crisp, tart taste goes up my nostrils. I chew slowly. Next time I whiff a McIntosh, Rome, Gala, Cortland, Envy, Gala or Empire wafting from a tree I’m grabbing my tote bag and head to the source.
My realization came about after some thievery. Returning from working out in the morning, I pass by multiple apple trees on the drive home. A couple of weeks back, I noticed several trees by the side of the road where thick strands of apples ripened bright red on the branches. Took note in my head to come back and pick them.
As is likely true for most humans, I forgot about this until one morning I was capable of retaining that thought and stopped the car next to one of the trees down the street a quarter-of-a-mile from our house. I clambered over a fence, pulled branches down and deposited 20-25 pieces of the perfectly-ripened pieces of fruit into my canvas bag.
Checking the landscape to ensure no one saw me steal, I Ieapt back over the fence, scooted to my car and blasted off. Whew. Back at the house, I plopped the apples into our fruit basket.
On a typical day, I don’t think much about my sense of smell. I go about my daily routines, doing chores, running errands, finishing up projects without thinking to myself (at least not with any degree of regularity), “Oh, wow, that smells marvelous!”
A day or two after depositing the apples, I did exactly that. Walking past our fruit basket and picking up one of the bright red honey crisp, I stopped, sniffed and said to my wife, “Do you smell these apples?”
She did not. I commented on how the sweet bouquet of fresh apple permeated our kitchen. It awakened the senses.
And then, of course, it set me to wondering. Why don’t we smell store-bought apples like this? Do they have some injection inside that limits their odor (and then, by extension, their taste)? I don’t know. Perhaps.
Or is just that fresh-picked apples have a much more expansive scent. Because they recently came off the tree, their aroma is stronger, sweeter, more pervasive. It’s probably a combination of those two factors.
Think about how we go through our daily lives not receiving this (and other) scent. We stroll through supermarkets and toss bananas, grapefruits, cantaloupes, potatoes, asparagus into our shopping carts. Do you sniff the produce? Of course not. You might be termed a weirdo, or someone would make a smart remark that your nose has germs on it or a booger is hanging out. “What the heck were you thinking?”
Instead, we zombie-walk our visits to the food store. We pick, we toss. We examine prices, consider options. But we don’t really inhale through our noses, letting wonderful fragrances inside our hearts.
Maybe fruit fresh from the vine or tree will help us do that with a greater degree of regularity. I certainly am much more aware now of the perfume emitted by fresh apples.
Because of that, it also feels like my life has been oh-so-subtly enhanced. I savor the apples more when I eat them. The crisp, tart taste goes up my nostrils. I chew slowly. Next time I whiff a McIntosh, Rome, Gala, Cortland, Envy, Gala or Empire wafting from a tree I’m grabbing my tote bag and head to the source.