You are what you eat, so why not become the apple of Columbia’s eye?

My great-grandmother was an immigrant from the region that would eventually become parts of Poland and Ukraine. This recipe is as much her story as it is mine. She died over forty years ago but I swear she came to me in a dream the other night as if in some divine intervention. I have no clue what she looked like but I just had a feeling it was her. It was just one of those deep psychic connections you get when you’re a psychic chef. From what I know, my great-grandmother was a peasant farmer. And in my deep slumber, she appeared exactly like one. It was a complete babushka stereotype. She was like a Russian nesting doll—a matryoshka figurine—wearing layers of floral fabrics and scarves. And every time she spoke there was a Soviet interlude even though she left Eastern Europe before the USSR even formed. My mother said she barely knew English but in that prophetic vision, she spoke to me with great fluency. I guess she’s been doing Duolingo in the afterlife or something. 

In the dream, she talked about her time picking turnips and beets from the harsh Slavic soil as a child. This was before she immigrated and when she worked with her nine siblings on the farm. She said it was honest work and that the feeling of the freshly grown produce against your palm was like heaven on Earth. But then I asked her why she left and also why she didn’t become a farmer in the United States and her projection exploded because of some paradox rules about ghosts. Hope I didn’t, like, kill her a second time. Remnants of herself scattered into the void by the wind system that exists inside my brain. Still, the message of dream grandma and her blessings of botany resonated with my astral soul and searched for ways to reclaim my serf heritage (besides majoring in Slavic Studies). So one day when I was walking across campus I discovered an apple tree. I found myself drawn to it, drawn to pick from it. And I did.

Equipment Needed:

• Limb extensions: the limb extension in this article is a copper toned metal water bottle bought from Duane Reade in the Summer of 2019
  • If you can’t find that specific water bottle, store bought is fine. Sometimes extensions aren’t even needed.
• A friend (optional, but highly recommended).

Knowledge Needed:

• The location of the secret Apple Treat in North campus.
• How to climb a tree.

Directions: 

1. Wait until the coast is clear.
2. Heave your body into the lower canopy of the apple tree. Make sure that the limbs feel stable and will not collapse under your weight. That would be bad.
3. Locate ripe Apples If you brought a friend, ask them to try and spot them from outside the leafage. If you’re alone, search for spots of red amidst the branches. Slightly shaking the stalks might make apple presence more obvious.
4. Attempt to Reach the Apples. Depending on the time of year, apples may reside closer to the trunk or higher up in the arboreal crown. If you can safely and easily snag one, do it! Repositioning or further climbing may be required. Remember that safety is more important than a delicious honey-crisp-like apple.
5. Whack ‘em. If the apples are not safely reachable by hand, you may need to use the limb extenders. Wielding the water bottle, start swinging at the fresh fruits in an attempt to break their connection with the tree. Think of it like a fusion of tee-ball and grocery shopping. Relive your childhood. Release your pent up anger, sadness, and confusion. Reach catharsis. With a few good hits—if you’re being light handed—or a great grand slam, the apples should soar out of the tree and (likely) roll across the pathway. Suprisingly, students who pass by mind their business.
6. Collect. After grabbing or wacking to your heart’s desire, gather up all the apples for your haul.
7. Wash (optional?). If you’re feeling extra famished due to the unpredictability of Columbia’s dining hall hours, dive right into eating the apple. The apple is similar to a honey-crisp variety and is firm and sweet. If your stomach isn’t torturing you from the inside, feel free to wash off any grime before your meal.

Roaree in An Orchard and other images via Kyle Murray and the Wonders of Digital Editing