I'm ecstatic. While over at the new house, for yet another inspection, the owner walked me to the end of the meadow and pointed out two perfect Cox's Orange Pippin apple trees.
In my opinion the Cox is simply the best eating apple: aromatic, juicy, sweetly layered tones of flavour and a seductive appearance.
Richard Cox planted two seeds in 1825, probably Ribston Pippin pollinated with Blenheim Orange although no records exist. They were commercially offered in 1840. At one time the Orange Pippin made up 70% of the total U.K crop, now about 40%.
Like so many varieties, it favours its own locality and it is said to 'grow of its best not much more than 100 miles from its birthplace in Colnbrook'. This has certainly been true in North America where it has failed to replicate the properties for which it is acclaimed. Thus I have been without its taste for three decades.
No disrespect to the Spartan apple but on tasting it for the first time I almost fainted with disappointment. My new Canadian family smiled encouragingly. I managed a weak smile. It dawned on me, my days of apple bliss might be over. Until now. I see some sort of pagan ceremony down in the meadow at harvest time. Slide into your diaphanous garments and meet me at dawn.
Might not be doing the dance thing in here as it is close to the road.