This apple appears like some Clive Barker shit. Prefer it’s a forbidden relic — an infernal system you utilize to enter the Labyrinth of Hell. (It continues its horror pedigree by tasting just a bit such as you’re kissing a haunted scarecrow, however in a great way? No matter, extra on that within the evaluation.)

As a author, one of the compelling issues about heirloom apples is their names. Ashmead’s Kernel is a improbable title. I remarked that once I first began my Heirloom Apple Journey, lots of the names sounded both like vampires or hobbits. Lord Lambourne? Vampire. Claygate Pearmain? Hobbit. Calville Blanc d’Hiver? Vampire. Fearn’s Pippin? Hobbit, clearly. Black Gilliflower? May go both method. Arkansas Black? Clearly a vampire hunter.

Ashmead’s Kernel, once more, has a Clive Barker ring to it, to me — as if it had been a diabolical, demonic artifact. It’s, in actuality, named after a person, Dr. Ashmead, which himself appears like a Clive Barker character — some Faustian physician and educational making an attempt to logic his method into the pleasures and pains of Hell.

So, know that my very preliminary curiosity in these apples had nothing to do with apples, or the style of apples, however just because the names had been so fucking goofy I needed to know what was up with that, and why all these apples had been clearly named after creatures of the evening and fantasy people.

Anyway. To the reviewmobile!

My evaluation of an Ashmead’s Kernel apple, Scott Farm (VT), early-Oct:

This small, unassuming little apple sits spherical and dense within the hand, comfortably nestled within the palm, whispering so that you can eat it. I imply, no less than that’s what I heard. Maybe you wouldn’t be as lucky as I used to be.

I’ve had good ones of those and dangerous ones of those and the dangerous ones eat such as you’re chewing a parsnip and style bizarre, however the good ones are a particular form of elegant — oh, nonetheless bizarre, however a stunning form of bizarre.

As an illustration: the primary chunk from this factor is giving haunted scarecrow vibes. It has this faintly burlap-sacky cornfield crow-fear style — it’s autumnal in a deeper, extra eldritch method than merely “oh dry leaves and cider spice.” That fades fast, and yields extra overtly nice, if nonetheless odd, flavors: gingerbread and graham cracker. A few of that is sure to the pores and skin and is barely current if you eat it with the pores and skin on — and right here I’m wondering too if the pores and skin absorbs not solely the vitamins from the bottom the place the apple grew, however the air, too. Gently soaking within the orchard air. Quietly inhaling the desires of scarecrows.

The flesh of the apple is a dense, chewy factor — not so dense it’s punishing, however you’ll work tougher to eat this apple. And it’ll reward you with large fucking flavors: it’s large tart, large candy, brings orange and hazelnut vibes to the occasion — it’s actually one thing else, this apple. It’s additionally juicy in suits and bursts, as if it chooses when to gush and when to not.

It is a unusual apple, good for October, match for Halloween. It’s additionally sufficiently small however heavy sufficient to throw on the heads of much less the treaters and extra the trickers — you get some sneaky little fuckers on Halloween evening making an attempt to shit in your pumpkins, nicely, you could possibly bean them with considered one of these. Then once more, that will be a waste of a splendidly weird-tasting apple.

Rating-wise, I believe its weirdness is a advantage however would possibly flip some of us off — as such, an 8.3 appears like a wonderfully odd-shaped rating.

The eating-it-live evaluation is right here, and it will get a bit… kooky.

Ashmead’s Kernel: Large tart, large candy, tastes such as you’re tongue-fucking a haunted scarecrow, however like a cool haunted scarecrow, it’s superb

Critiques thus far this yr: Honeycrisp, Sweetie, Crimson Crisp, Knobbed Russet, Cortland, Maiden’s Blush, Cox’s Orange Pippin, Reine des Reinettes, Ingrid Marie, Hudson’s Golden Gem, Holstein, Suncrisp