Petalfall, ho! The apple blossoms were beautiful and prolonged this year, but the recent warm temperatures and high winds have brought primary bloom to an end . . . with some notable exceptions, like ‘Dabinett’ (see the featured apple of the month profile below). Aside from a handful of late bloomers, the only flowers we will see from here on out will be so-called “rat-tail” blooms that linger out of season here and there. As you can see pictured above, our ‘Redfield’ trees, some of our earliest bloomers, are well past petalfall and into the fruit sizing window. Still, we can find a smattering of blossoms and buds out there, although it’s pretty unusual to see a new flower open up so much later from the same cluster where a fruitlet is already growing.

Apple growers refer to these bothersome late blossoms as rat-tails because the stems of the flowers tend to be particularly skinny and elongated. They are considered bothersome because these late flowers are more likely to become infected by pathogens when they bloom in warmer weather, potentially triggering a disease cycle in an otherwise healthy tree. Also, if rat-tail bloom occurs completely out of season in late summer or fall, it can affect return bloom the following season. Thus, if we experience rat-tail blooms budding up in August or September, we try to snip them out if we have time.

We’re creeping ever closer to our last freeze date and are happy to say it’s looking good for our apple crop! While we’re very busy taking care of it, now it’s also time for us to start grafting new trees. This year, we have some special scionwood to play with. Earlier in the year, we obtained wood from several varieties of Spanish cider apples from the USDA apple germplasm repository in Geneva, New York. This is where genetic material from outside the United States comes upon arrival for years of quarantine and trialing, before being released to growers and researchers for use in the field.

Spain provided a number of their best-known hard cider and dessert varieties to the repository about 20 years ago, and they are finally starting to make their way into the hands of growers like us. We are interested in trialing these warmer climate apples in our orchard to see if they do better than others in the hot, humid Southeast. With evocative names like ‘Piel del Sapo,’ or “Skin of the Toad” and ‘Sangre de Toro,’ or “Blood of the Bull,” these varieties sound so exotic to our North Carolina ears.

If you’re into hard cider, you may be hearing more about Spanish ciders. Americans are increasingly widening their palates to include the sort of sour, wild-fermented ciders that the Asturias region of Spain, in particular, is known for, and it’s becoming easier to find stateside, as are Spanish-style sour ciders made by American cideries. For those of you who may not know, Spanish cider culture is pretty unique and fun.

Traditionally, the cider, or sidra, produced there is flat, rather than sparkling, but effervescence is produced to order with a flamboyant, daredevil pour from a cider bottle in one hand, held high over the pourer’s head, splashing into a glass cupped in the other hand stretched below the waist. These “culetes,” or small draughts of sidra, are meant to be drunk at once, like a shot of liquor. Spanish bars, or sidreries, that serve sidra in this fashion often rely upon sawdust littered floors to soak up the inevitable over-rim splashes. And here’s a fun fact: in 2022 Gijon, a municipality in Asturias, again broke the world record for the most people simultaneously pouring cider at once — 9,796, to be exact. This is something of a tradition as most previous world records in this category were also set by Gijon, but in any case, ¡salud! to Gijon!

In recent years, the regulations governing Asturias sidra have loosened a bit, but only relatively speaking. Now, rather than restricting producers to 22 Spanish cider apple varieties, 76 are acceptable for sidra labelled as “Sidra de Asturias.” Producers have also been allowed to move beyond the so-called flat “sidra natural” made via wild fermentation into “Sidra Natural de Nueva Expresion,” basically sidra natural that has been filtered and stabilized, as well as “Natural Sparkling Cider,” a sparkling brut version.

Spain is actually the fourth largest producer of cider in Europe, behind England, Ireland and France. While the humid, cooler Atlantic coastline is challenging for grape-growing, apples do well in this climate, as well as the mineral-rich soils that tend toward the acidic side. Our Southeastern climate is definitely warmer on average than Asturias, but we are so excited about the 8 Spanish cider varieties we’re grafting, we are uncharacteristically grafting much of the scionwood onto dwarf rootstock so we can sample the fruit that much sooner. It will still be a few years before we have enough fruit to do much with, but in the meantime, we can practice our sidra pouring technique!

May is just around the corner and, while the fruitlets are already sizing up on most of the trees in our orchard, we are still waiting on our absolute latest variety to fully emerge from dormancy and begin blooming . . . next month! We have a single Dabinett tree growing in our test orchard and it is far and away our latest variety, although we’ve only just come to understand why this is the case.

Last month we decided to feature Dabinett for April as the perfect coda to our March newsletter’s emphasis on bloomtime. The variety is a well-known English cider apple and, as a full bittersweet that makes high quality single varietal ciders, it is being planted in more and more American orchards. As we researched the variety’s history, we found an article explaining why Dabinett is gaining a reputation for late annual emergence and sluggish growth habit. Always small, finicky, and only moderately vigorous, apparently, this variety benefits from more chill hours (temperatures below 30 degrees F) over the winter than we can provide in our climate. If it does not receive them, Dabinett is notorious for waking up later than its already late tendency and grows pretty pitifully as it struggles to catch up.

We can attest to this, and it’s one reason why we have stuck with just the one tree in our test orchard thus far, although we’d love to be able to produce decent quantities of Dabinett fruit far beyond the literal handful of apples we’ve been able to harvest from our one tree over the years. Sidenote, we have mentioned our test orchard before, but we’re not sure if we’ve ever explained what it is for folks who may not be in the know. It is very common practice for commercial orchardists just getting started with unusual or heirloom varieties to plant a small pilot orchard to test which varieties will do well at the orchard location. After some years of observation, the orchardist can make better-informed decisions about which varieties will do well enough to justify larger scale plantings.

In this case, planting Dabinett in our test orchard before investing in a larger block really paid off, as we have found that it does not do great for us here. Perhaps we may eventually plant a small block in a severe cold pocket where none of our other varieties would stand a chance, given their normal blooming tendencies, but for now, we’ve abandoned any delusions of Dabinett grandeur. But now that we know of Dabinett’s chill hour proclivities, we may try to manipulate our pathetically small young trees into more pronounced early growth by keeping them potted and in our walk-in cooler over next winter to provide more chill hours.

After all, Dabinett ain’t from around here, anyway. The variety hails from the small village of Middle Lambrook in Somerset, where it started life as a ‘gribble’ in Old English-speak, an apple tree that was self-sown and grew up wild. It was discovered in a hedge by a villager named William Dabinett in the late 1800s. We don’t know much else about its earliest beginnings, how it migrated from that hedge to the orchard, but by at least 1895 it was already being used in cider.

Indeed, much like the analytical chemistry surveys of cider apples conducted today in order to guide producers, there was a local effort in this corner of rural England to improve their ciders. Accordingly, a chemist was hired, fruit was picked from a Dabinett tree, as well as others, and the juice analyzed, with the results published in 1896. As a continuation of this cider improvement effort, a cider competition was inaugurated, and in the 1897 outing, surprise, a Dabinett blend was a prizewinner!

While Dabinett become quite popular in its home range in subsequent years, the National Fruit and Cider Institute that was established in 1903 had taken notice of the fruit, as well, and cultivated it in their research orchard for further field and cider testing. Ultimately, it was the NFCI that championed Dabinett as one of the best English cider varieties with regards to quality and profitability.

Given its reputation as one of the finest cider fruits, Dabinett eventually expanded its range within England throughout the 20th Century, and from there, conquered the world, at least, in terms of the niche that is the hard cider world. It finally came to the United States in 1985 as an accession by way of our friends at the USDA germplasm repository. Traditionally, the parentage of Dabinett was held to include ‘Chisel Jersey,’ another of Somerset’s gifts to the cider world, but recent DNA analysis doesn’t support that history.

Similar to Chisel Jersey, however, Dabinett’s flavor is sweet, rather than acidic, but highly astringent. A wise person drinks Dabinett apples, rather than attempt to enjoy them fresh. Likewise, cooking won’t do this apple any favors either, and generally just serves to exacerbate the variety’s already dry, tough flesh. Oh, and don’t bother growing this apple for its looks, as it is pretty unremarkably dull red over yellow, and small to medium fruit to boot. But who needs appearance and fresh flavor when a pressing of Dabinett apples produces such fine drink. The cider is gorgeously gold in color and can be relied upon for good balance, full body, ample flavor, and dry finish. The typically high brix, or degree of sweetness, makes for ciders with hefty ABV numbers. It can work as a single varietal, but these attributes also make Dabinett a particularly great apple to include in blends.

We like to think of Dabinett as a worthwhile challenge, by no means to be relied on in our orchard, but worth experimenting with as a hobby. Who knows — perhaps 50 years from now our wee Dabinett trees will have caught up to the rest of the orchard and be producing as if they never skipped, er, several beats. Or maybe we’ll use the variety to try and breed some really late-blooming cider cultivars that do like it here. We’re trying to justify it, but really, if you’re interested in hard cider, a Dabinett tree is just something you want to have by your side, for cultural and historical interest, if nothing else.

Apples with pork is one of those classic combinations guaranteed to make the mouth water. Spiked with lime juice and packaged in a flaky empanada crust Spanish-style takes it to another level. We wouldn’t call it apple pie season yet, but with fruitset and the last potential freeze date around the corner we’re inching that much closer, so it feels appropriate to celebrate with some apple-y handpies. We adapted this recipe from an original at unclejerryskitchen.com and used jackfruit to make a truly mouthwatering vegetarian version.

1 batch empanada dough (recipe below) or 1 pkg. 10 count empanada rounds, defrosted

Empanada dough:

2 cups flour (plus flour for rolling out dough)
½ cup shortening, chilled
2 ½ Tbsp. butter, in bits, chilled
½ tsp. salt
Approximately 5 Tbsp. ice water

Filling:

2 (14 ounce) cans young jackfruit, rinsed, drained and shredded (or substitute 1 lb. leftover shredded roast pork)
3 Tbsp. butter
2 medium Granny Smith apples, finely diced, divided
½ – ¾ cup vegetable stock
1 Tbsp. cinnamon
1 ½ tsp. chili powder
2 tsp. ground cumin
1 Tbsp. onion powder
3 cloves minced garlic
2 Tbsp dried cilantro leaves
Salt and coarsely ground pepper for seasoning and garnish
Juice from 1 lime

1 egg, beaten with 1 Tbsp. water for glaze
Lime wedges for serving

If you are making your own empanada dough, prepare it first (or even the day before) so it can chill while the filling is cooking.

Combine shortening, butter, flour, and salt in medium bowl. Cut fats into dry ingredients until well mixed and like pea-sized pieces. Stir in water, 1 Tbsp. at a time and toss with fork until dough forms. Knead lightly until it stays in a ball. Place in covered bowl and chill at least 1 hour or overnight.

To make the filling, place half of the apples and 2 Tbsp. butter in a 3 qt. saucepan over medium heat. Cook, stirring frequently until apples are slightly softened. Add cinnamon, chili powder, cumin, onion powder, garlic, and cilantro leaves. Cook, stirring for about 1 minute. Add jackfruit (or pork), 1 Tbsp. butter and ½ cup stock. Stir to combine and bring to a simmer. Cover and simmer approximately 15 minutes, stirring occasionally. Add more stock, if needed, to prevent sticking.

Taste and adjust seasoning with salt and pepper. Stir in the rest of the diced apples and the juice of 1 lime. Set aside to cool.

Line baking sheet with parchment paper. Set it aside. Roll dough on floured surface to 1/8 inch thickness. Cut into 4 inch rounds. Moisten edges of dough with some egg glaze. Place a 2 Tbsp. of filling in center of round then fold dough over to enclose the filling. Seal edges with tines of a fork and place on baking sheet. Reroll scraps of dough until it is used up.

Brush empanadas with egg glaze and sprinkle with a generous amount of black pepper. Bake at 350F until golden, about 30 minutes. Serve warm or cold with wedges of lime.