My Aunt's husband was from Arkansas...
I didn't get to see the couple much because they lived so far away from Ohio. Yet when I did I especially enjoyed my Uncle who was nicknamed Keko. He cracked me up with his jokes and any joke told with a funny accent was that much funnier. The only thing he did that was particularly odd was he called me his Little Black Apple. I was old enough to know about being the Black Sheep of the Family etc. but Black Apple? Obviously, I wasn't Black and he always said it with such affection I figured it couldn't be bad so I never questioned it. Sadly, he passed away when I was 10 or 11 so I never found out.
Last week, I'm reading a culinary trends report and I see that Arkansas Black Apples are making a culinary comeback. What????
Image while wandering through the orchard, your gaze lands on apples so deeply hued that they seem to have emerged from a fairy tale. You reach out reflexively and pluck an enchanting orb, pressing its waxy, smooth skin against your palm. On taking a bite, you discover a rock-hard, sour piece of fruit. It’s terrible.
Arkansas Black apples aren’t meant to be eaten straight off the tree. In fact, the best thing you can do to one is put it in the refrigerator and forget about it until next season. Patient pickers are rewarded with a sweet, firm fruit that offers notes of cherry, cinnamon, vanilla, and coriander, but only after having aged it in cold storage for a few months.