The return of Honeycrisp apple season has become one of my very favorite things about fall. It’s an especially welcome event this autumn, during which there will be no joy of post-season play for the Twins, and no, I really don’t want to talk about that, thanks.
I bought our first Honeycrisps of the year on Monday night, and while I remembered them being delicious, the reality of these apples is sooooooo much better than I even remembered. They are so delicious that I had to lay down an allocation as soon as I brought them into the house—one per Goddess/DemiGoddess per day—because last year the Demis demolished five pounds of them in two days.
(Eat the cookies! Snack on chips! Walk up to the McDonald’s and buy yourselves a couple of Big Macs! But stay away from the Honeycrisps, you fresh-fruit gluttons!)
They're big apples. One per day is not unreasonable.
The Demis were not happy about the rationing, but clever Demi the Younger has found a way to prolong enjoyment of her daily allotment by cutting her apple in half in the morning. One half goes into her lunch, and the other half she stashes in the refrigerator for after school. She even sprinkles the after-school half with a little lemon juice so it doesn't turn brown before she gets home.
They are exactly THAT good.
But these morsels of September heaven also present a problem. The crisp, the juicy, the crunching and lip-smacking and “mmmmm-mmmmmm-mmmmm…” noises are impossible to stifle here in cubicle-land. So this morning when I arrived at work I apologized in advance to the co-worker in the next cube over. Because Honeycrisp apples are cannot be eaten quietly, and I don't think I can wait until lunch.