There is no greater or more constant pleasure than in an apple. Looks will fade, romances will wither and die and the body will fail, but the crunch of the fruit will resound as sweetly under baby teeth as it will in the clutches of yellowed dentures. Though it has been reduced to the unglamorous status of health food, the apple was the original food of indulgence, woman’s downfall before she had even heard of chocolate. The blushing skin of a Macintosh is not just a source of fiber, as the decidedly un-romantic scientific community tries to tell us; it is the encapsulation of autumnal perfection, the foremost in the legion of gastronomical delights that the changing leaves bring with them each year. With the purest of fruits and most decadent, sugary seductions, fall draws us back to the comforting reality of food, and reminds us that looking good in a bathing suit isn’t everything.
There is nothing that stirs the appetite more than the brisk winds of October. Linen and seersucker are discarded for corduroy and fleece, just as the iceberg lettuce salads of summer are traded in for autumn’s hearty beef stews. There is no other season that is so full of aroma and savory bites as this one. Coming out of the cru-dite of the summer months, the seasoned potato wedges of fall are a breath of fresh air for bodies deprived of the charms of carbohydrates.
As October unfolds, people start to get really serious about their food. It is right around this time that Martha Stewart begins to offer her favorite recipes for things like squash tarts, savory black ham fritters and maize-flavored ice cream. In elementary school, I always knew fall was upon us when people began bringing in orange cupcakes and whimsical cookies in the shape of witch hats. That corn-syrupy taste of chemically processed frosting and stale sugar cookie warmed the cockles of my heart; it meant Halloween was upon us. The days and weeks leading up to the 31st were always a blur of activity. Everyone was planning their outfits, searching for that perfect bloody mask, that oh-so subtle princess dress or that perfect white sheet to cut holes into. Halloween was going to be a day we would never forget: better than prom, our wedding day and the birth of our firstborn child put together.
To be sure, the costumes were a huge part of the holiday, but for me, the true allure of All Hallows Eve has always been the fine fare served up. Every day of celebration has its own tradition of food, usually enjoyed at a civilized dinner affair with a wide selection of choice meats, specialty breads and seasoned vegetables. Halloween has none of that. It is a pagan feast of sugar, an unabashed celebration of all things Hershey and M&M, of king-sized Baby Ruths, slab cookies slathered in creamy goo and orange sprinkles. Historically, Halloween had a deeper significance, marking the end of the year for the ancient Celts. They celebrated by dancing around bonfires in wolf pelts and trying to scare up evil spirits (not unlike the celebrations that still take place on many college campuses today). Obviously they were party people, so I’m pretty sure they’d enjoy our version of their feast. After all, even Now-and-Laters have to taste better than bloody rabbit served up right before the ritual sacrifice.
Americans have an especially strong affinity for the hearty foods of autumn. Without the stick-to-your ribs victuals that Pocahontas helped to rustle up, the pilgrims would have remained pale and wan Englishmen. Without sustenance, they never would have had the strength to make it through the harsh winter, shoot turkeys, host an elaborate shindig we still commemorate and steal the Indians’ land. Ambitions go nowhere on an empty stomach. On Thanksgiving, we celebrate this essential American notion by downing aromatic forkfuls of pumpkin pie laden with cream and watching Miracle on 34th Street. Let the French fuss with their billowy crepes and delicate patisserie; all we need is a crock pot full of meat and potatoes and a deep-fried turkey.
Autumn is the season where nature’s abundance coincides with the culinary ingenuity of mankind. One may choose the simple joy of biting into an unadulterated apple or one that has been deliciously coated in caramel, of chewing on pumpkin seeds straight from the gourd or savoring a morsel of pumpkin ravioli at the finest of restaurants. My palate has matured since those elementary school days and I can now appreciate the subtle flavors of sautéed zuccini and apple chutney, but the appeal of a neon orange double-stuff Oreo is not lost on me, and never will be. From cranberries to caramels, Butterfingers to butternut squash, all one can do is eat up, and remember that no one will be the wiser for your autumnal indulgences under all those cable-knit layers.
