From Jeff Cox
If you were asked to invent a new fruit and came up with the cherry, your fame would resound down through the ages. The ongoing process we call Nature has done just that, and though some claim the process is blind and random, I prefer to think that a genius beyond reckoning is hidden within the natural world, and through its annual spins throws out such miracles as the cherry.
This thought occurred to me one day in the favorable cherry year of 1973—one of those rare years in Pennsylvania when the Bing cherry trees bore exceptionally large crops of unblemished fruit, when the rain patterns allowed the fruit to ripen without the need for fungicides against brown rot, and when there were plenty of ripe cherries for both the birds and me. A friend bought a property where three mature Bing cherry trees grew, each a good 35 feet tall, with thick trunks and wide-spread limbs, and, that year, had its branches laden with cherries. On a visit, I climbed into one of the trees and positioned myself on a limb where it forked into two smaller limbs. All around me ripe burnished burgundy-black cherries hung thickly within reach, and I perched there happily gobbling my fill until even my gluttonous lust for cherries was sated.
It was one of those moments in life that seem so natural and usual when it’s happening, but that in retrospect seems extraordinary and singular because it afforded an exquisite pleasure that has never been nor ever will likely be repeated.
That it involved cherries is understandable. In medieval art, the cherry represented a sweet and pleasing character, as well as one of the delights of the blessed. It’s significant that the trees were Bing cherries, because of all the lovely cherries, Bings are my favorite.
I’m not alone in thinking that Bing is the best-tasting, most satisfying cherry variety. I asked Elizabeth Mitcham of the Department of Pomology at the University of California at Davis which variety of Prunus avium, the sweet cherry, she thinks is tops for quality. She said, “Most of those I have polled agree that Bing is the best variety.”
Her associate, Janet Caprile, one of UC Davis’s Farm Advisors, added, “The California Rare Fruit Growers occasionally organize fruit tastings. They did a cherry tasting…and here are their top 10, with the most popular first: Bing, Utah Giant, Rainier, Larian, Lambert, Ebony, Black Tartarian, Garnet, Sparkle, and Black Republican. I would add Brooks to the list.” I like the fact that the marvelous Bing cherry was named for a Chinese laborer by the orchardist where the variety was first hybridized. Few remember the name of the orchardist, but everyone remembers the name of his laborer.
While Bings—and other sweet cherries—are susceptible to rots, sour cherries (Prunus cerasus), also known as pie cherries, are disease resistant. I have seen pie cherry trees laden with bright red fruit sitting happily in the late spring rains, unsprayed, while a nearby Black Tartarian sweet cherry (Prunus avium) crop was nearly entirely taken by brown rot. Organic sweet cherry growers aren’t entirely at the mercy of the fungi, however. Bordeaux mixture, elemental sulfur mixed with lime, and even a weak alkaline solution of baking soda are allowed in organic culture as fungicides. These compounds do not wreak havoc in the orchard ecosystem. And breeders help by making hybrids between P. avium and P. cerasus—in fact, most modern cherry hybrids called Royal or dual-purpose cherries are the product of such natural crosses. They are valued for their hardiness, disease-resistance, and good cooking qualities.
It’s important to find organic cherries because cherries are one of the most heavily sprayed crops. Conventional growers used 650,000 pounds—325 tons!—of agricultural chemicals on cherries in California alone in 2001. And California isn’t even the biggest producer. Oregon, Utah, and Washington State are the big producers of sweet cherries, while Wisconsin, Michigan, and New York produce most of the pie cherries, although some of each type are grown in all these states.
A cherry that grows wild in the east and that is sometimes sold at roadside stands is the black cherry (Prunus serotina), also called the bird cherry, or wild cherry. The dark, reddish-black fruits are small, about the size of a fingernail, not very sweet, but intensely flavored. They are harvested and a sweetened syrup is made of their juice that’s used to flavor soft drinks, ice creams, and candies, as well as rum and brandies. The trees are sturdy-looking and beautiful, and their rich, reddish-brown wood is highly prized for cabinet making.
Another wilding worth a mention is the chokecherry (Prunus virginiana), bearing clusters of black cherries that are edible, if not particularly palatable. They have a strong astringency and concentrated, over-the-top cherry flavor, hence their name. I have not seen chokecherries for sale at roadside stands, probably because they grow like weeds over their wide range in the east.
All told, there are 900 varieties of sweet cherries and 300 of pie cherries in the world’s markets. Sweet cherries are high in sugar (about 10 percent, or brix), have good stores of potassium, but—unless they are acerola sour cherries—are relatively low in vitamin C (11 mg per three ounces of fruit). The dark cherries are high in anti-oxidants, however.
Organic sweet cherries are mostly eaten out of hand, but they are also frozen to be sold in supermarkets, made into ice cream, used in pastries, or dried. They are the first stone fruit to ripen. We get the Black Tartarian, Tulare, and Burlat varieties here in California in May, when itinerant vendors sell them out of the backs of their station wagons. Then come the so-called white cherries, usually Rainier or Royal Ann. The Bings come in during late June into July.
Sour cherries are typically sweetened and cooked into pies and pastries, but some are also made into cherry soup, and some are dried. These dried sour cherries can add some tang-zing to a wide range of dishes, but especially sweet meats like pork and duck. There are two categories of sour cherries. Amarelle are light-colored with clear juice, such as the Montmorency variety that ripens in July. Griotte are dark with colored juice, such as the Morello variety.
Cherry season always means it’s time to get out the old marmalade crock I picked up at a country flea market. It has a ceramic lid that snaps closed. I fill it with two pounds of ripe but firm, unblemished cherries—some years sweet, some years sour, depending on which look the best. You can pit them, but I think the slight almond flavor of the pits adds a grace note to the cherries, so I don’t pit them. If I’m using sweet cherries, I add a cup of sugar to the crock; if sour, a cup and a half of sugar. Then I fill the crock with a decent brandy, cover the top with two thicknesses of wax paper, and snap down the lid. It sits on the kitchen counter for a month or two, then it goes into the fridge until the holiday season. Brandied cherries over my own home-made organic vanilla ice cream (using a real vanilla bean) makes a fine finish to the Thanksgiving turkey. One Christmas I pitted the cherries, chopped them, and made cherry-vanilla ice cream with them plus a few tablespoons of the brandy from the crock (don’t use more—brandy is an anti-freeze after all). It was spectacular. Or, the perfect close to a Christmas dinner might be almonds, chocolate, brandied cherries, and a glass of well-aged Port. But no cigar.
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Organic Cherry Pie
Best made with fresh, pitted pie cherries, which ripen in midsummer, but you can also use the sweet cherries of spring. You might pit and freeze cherries in one layer on a cookie sheet, then pour the frozen cherries into a freezer bag for later pie-making, or make several pies in season to place in sealed plastic bags in the deep freezer for use in the winter, on Presidents’ Day, or whenever you need to remember the warm days of summer. Don’t freeze until the pie has completely cooled.
Make enough pie crust dough for two pie crusts and refrigerate overnight.
4 cups fresh, pitted organic pie (sour) cherries
1 cup sugar
4 Tbl. all-purpose flour
2 tsp. quick-cooking tapioca
2 Tbl. kirsch or 2 drops of almond extract
1 ½ Tbl. lemon juice
1 Tbl. butter
Cut the dough in half and roll it out to line a 9-inch pie pan. Combine the sugar, flour, tapioca, kirsch or almond extract, and lemon juice and blend gently into the cherries. Fill the pie crust with this mixture. Dot the top with bits of the butter. Preheat oven to 450 F. Roll out the remaining dough and cut it into ½-inch strips. Weave the strips into a lattice top for the pie, trimming off all but ½ inch of the overlap and moistening the ends of the strips where they meet the bottom crust along the edge of the pie plate, squishing them together with the back of a fork. Brush the lattice with milk or an egg whipped with a tablespoon of water. This makes the lattice glossy. Bake at 450°F. for 10 minutes, then reduce heat to 350°F. and bake for another 30 minutes, or until the lattice is golden brown. Makes 1 pie.
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Jeff Cox is author of The Organic Cook’s Bible and The Organic Food Shopper’s Guide and lives in Sonoma County, California.
Image Credit: Cherry Blossoms © Anutkate | Dreamstime.com
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