Apricots lead the way home
I cut apricots today, something I haven’t done for a very long
time. I had been summoned to Aptos to pick apricots from the trees
of my parents’ friends, both of whom are 80-something and were
panicked the apricots might go to waste.
Of all the summer fruits, what is more fragile and lovely than
an apricot? Hence, the panicking of my parents’ friends.
Apricots lead the way home
I cut apricots today, something I haven’t done for a very long time. I had been summoned to Aptos to pick apricots from the trees of my parents’ friends, both of whom are 80-something and were panicked the apricots might go to waste.
Of all the summer fruits, what is more fragile and lovely than an apricot? Hence, the panicking of my parents’ friends.
“If you don’t get over here and pick them today, they’re all going to fall off the trees,” I was told over the phone by Dotty, the wife of the couple. Her tone of voice made it clear that I had to take some.
Not that I was objecting. I love apricots. Apricots and I go way back.
In fact, it was originally apricots that brought me to Aromas many moons ago, long before I ever dreamed I might live there someday.
Other friends of my parents (they have a lot of friends) had a little ranch in Aromas when I was a kid. They grew apricots and dried them. One summer, they asked me if I wanted to help out.
I was 10 or 11 years old, and the thought of making actual money sounded thrilling. I said yes. So for hours each day for a few weeks, I cut ‘cots.
There were the firm ones, and then there were the sloppy ones. You couldn’t avoid getting sticky and goopy no matter what type you were cutting. I didn’t care. I cut them, took out the pits and laid them in the wooden drying trays.
I think I might have made 50 cents a tray. Hey, that was big money back then.
I didn’t know it at the time, but Aromas in those days was renowned for its apricots. The apricot groves were quite famous, especially during the early part of the 20th century. Blenheim was the major variety.
But then apricots became passe. I don’t know if they fell out of favor with consumers, but they certainly weren’t easy to ship – too easily bruised. So little by little, the apricots went away.
So the farmers planted apple trees. And now the apple trees are coming down and row crops are being planted. Go figure.
At any rate, as I was saying, apricots and I go way back. I love them, and I love that brief time when you can get them, either off a friend’s tree or in a store or at a fruit stand. I gorge myself on apricots until they run out.
Unfortunately, no one at my house feels the same way about apricots, which means I get them all. But in this case, all was too much.
I’d picked quite a few and there was no way I’d be able to squeeze them into my gullet before they went bad. So I froze them instead. Hence the current apricot cutting.
I worked for a few hours, inhaling the heady scent of ripe ‘cots, splitting them open and rolling out the pits, dipping them in lemon juice and water to prevent browning, and putting them in freezer bags.
Someday, they’ll be used for jam or if I get really ambitious, a pie or two.
Apricots brought me to Aromas a long time ago. Then it took me a long time to come back and rediscover this little town. Now I’m an old-timer – I’ve been here 22 years.
Maybe it’s time for me to plant an apricot tree.
