A little late in the season, but this fruity blog was recently published in Leaf! newspaper...
Autumn
is a fruitful season. A rummaging ramble along woodland edge or roadside hedge
at this time of year reveals a ripe harvest of both tasty treats and rich folklore...
Scrambling
brambles that suckled a host of nectar-sipping insects throughout summer now
glisten temptingly with succulent blackberries, ready to stain fingers and
tongues. Early in autumn they offer a pick-and-mix of sweet and sour, maturing
from the tip of the shoot backwards as the season proceeds. But don’t delay too
long as time-honoured tradition states that blackberries should never be eaten
after Old Michaelmas Day (10 October) when the Devil spits on them – an act of petulant
despoiling resulting from Old Scratch having landed in a patch of brambles when
he was expelled from Heaven.
Elderberries,
mercifully un-bedevilled throughout October, hang in dangling clusters of
petite purple globules - light and refreshing when eaten straight from the
branch, becoming deep and intense when turned into cordial and wine and packing
a punch of vitamins to stave off winter’s ills and chills. According to legend
witches can magically turn themselves into elder trees, so it’s considered
pertinent to ask permission from the Old Lady before you help yourself from her
branches. Thickets of blackthorn bushes also harbour gluts of hidden fruit. Sloes,
secretly ripened amongst protective spines, have become the colour of bruises –tart
to the taste but ready to be picked and pricked and transformed into intoxicating
tipples.
Autumnal
yields of hazelnuts have nourished humans since we first walked this land, but
each year, as soon as they turn from insipid green to alluring gold, there’s a ruthless
rush of beak and claw amongst the turning leaves to grab the nutritious feast.
Once gathered the nuts can be safely squirreled away for later leisurely
consumption, roasted on the fire as the wild weather blows outside. In some
parts of the country 31 October was known as Nut Crack Night, where hazelnuts
had amorous applications in foretelling future lovers. The Anglo-Saxon word ‘haesel’ translates as hat or bonnet and
refers to the frilly fringe of leaves neatly fitted around the base of the
hardening husks.
Even
when ripe crab-apples, as their name suggests, are generally hard and sour to
the taste (as in ‘crabby’ – also referring to persons of bitter disposition). They
were once widely harvested and used in fermented form as ‘verjuice’: a
home-grown, hedgerow alternative to lemon juice, and are still sometimes roasted
as an accompaniment for cooked meat as well as a key component of mid-winter
Wassailing drinks. Alongside native crab-apple trees, assorted ‘wildings’ from discarded
domestic apples serendipitously sprout along the hedgerows and in neglected pockets
of countryside, their branches brimming with profuse fruit. It’s easy to
understand how the apple tree has become such a striking symbol of abundance
and generosity in folklore. Furthermore apples are perhaps the most ‘storied’ of
all our autumn fruits: featuring heavily in a crop of tales from magical myths
to local legends; especially in the West Country where apple growing has a
deep-rooted tradition.
