What comes to mind when you hear the word, ‘crabapple’? Chances are, you don’t think of something sweet and delicious. Perhaps your mind goes to unexpected places — on more than one occasion, we have had a customer pick up a jar of our crabapple jelly, read the label, then make a face and put it back, asking why we feel the need to mix seafood with our apples!

Instinctual aversion to the crabapple appears to date back to ancient times. The derivation of the evocative name is lost to history, but whether the root can be ascribed to a Scandinavian language or Old English, all the possible connotations are unpleasant. It has been pointed out that, in addition to the generally disagreeable taste a 14th century person might have expected to encounter upon eating a wild crabapple, the sometimes contorted, or crooked, growth of a crabapple tree might be said to resemble crab legs.

In modern times, crabapples don’t tend to get a lot of love from consumers, but to growers, apple breeders, jelly-makers, and hard cideries, crabapples are something special. As orchardists, we appreciate how reliable and easy to grow crabapples are; in this lean fruit year, most of our varieties that managed to set a good crop were crabs. It’s not surprising that crabapples feature highly in breeding programs for both apple rootstocks and improved varieties.

As we gear up to make this season’s crabapple jelly, we were moved to put together a visual ode to the wide variety of crabs we grow. ‘Hewes Crab,’ ‘Dolgo,’ ‘Crittenden,’ ‘Hyslop,’ ‘Chestnut,’ ‘Wickson,’ ‘Roseblush Sweet Crab,’ oh, my! As you can see from the above picture, crabapples come in many different shapes, colors, and sizes. Likewise, the crabapple class encompasses a wide variety of flavors. Sure, there are plenty of crabs that could be described as tart, tannic “spitters,” but there are also varieties with pleasantly sweet flesh that kids, in particular, seem to find irresistible for fresh eating. And the thing about those mouthpuckering crabs is, their less than appealing fresh taste belies their ability to deliciously translate into vibrant jellies naturally high in pectin, addictive spiced pickles, savory roasted holiday side dishes, as well as outstanding libations.

Long prized as showy ornamental yard trees or canning fodder for homeowners, in recent history, if a commercial orchard included the odd crabapple in their plantings, it was purely for a pollination boost. In general, crabapples produce copious amounts of pollen and also tend to bloom for an extended period of time. Thus, they are considered valuable pollinizers and are often sparsely interplanted within other conventional orchard blocks in the hope of boosting fruitset. As hard cider and heirloom apple production picks up, crabapples are being recognized for their other merits, and since crabs are the only apples actually native to North America, it’s about time we took some pride in our crabby heritage!

There are four distinct species of crabapples native to North America: Malus coronaria (a sweet crabapple found in the Great Lakes region), Malus fusca (a sour crabapple found in the Pacific West), Malus angustifolia (a sour crabapple found in the South), and Malus ioensis (a showy bloomer found in the Central Plains). That’s a lot of variety, just in terms of species, and when you get into named cultivars, which have often been hybridized with non-crabapples into Malus domestica, there is even more diversity. While you would be forgiven for assuming that any crabapple will be on the small side and exceedingly sour in flavor, there are degrees and outliers. For example, the ‘Chestnut’ crabapple produces petite fruits compared to a typical dessert apple, but at an average of 2.5 inches in diameter, its size doesn’t exactly scream crabapple.

At Kordick Family Farm, we grow 14 different varieties of crabapples, including such oddities as a Malus hupehensis, hailing from China and commonly known as the ‘tea’ crab because its leaves were traditionally used in teas. Another standout variety is ‘Dolgo,’ the fruit of which is easily mistaken for plums, with their ruby-red skin and scarlet flesh. Our Crittendens produce the smallest crabapples we grow. The lovely trees bear clusters of fruit that resemble cherries in every way. The diminutive fruits are usually less than an inch in diameter.

As we were harvesting some Crittenden crabs this past week, we glanced into the next block of trees and spied a particularly imposing ‘Wolf River’ apple. Measuring over 6 inches in diameter and weighing in at a pound and a half, this was the largest Wolf River we have ever picked in our orchard, but the variety routinely produces our largest apples on average. When juxtaposed with a wee Crittenden, the difference is quite striking!

Hard to believe it’s fall festival time already, but here it comes! Those of you in the North Carolina Triad area can look forward to the Bethabara Apple Festival in Winston-Salem on September 23rd, from 10 am to 4 pm. Hosted by the historic Bethabara Park, this is always a fun event in the authentic setting of a colonial Moravian village. We won’t be able to supply fresh apples this year, but we will have other orchard wares available for purchase, and will also be providing the apple cider scents wafting through the air — come see us boil down a pan of apple cider syrup on-site.

We recently harvested our Hyslop crab trees, and forgetting that, despite their luscious appearance, they are not a crabapple one enjoys out of hand, eagerly crunched into some real beauties before promptly spitting out the remarkably unappealing flesh. Hyslop apples actually do have excellent flavor, but it must be coaxed from the fruit with some simple alchemy in the form of heat and sugar, or on the other hand, transformative fermentation. With a little effort, we will thoroughly enjoy some Hyslop crab jelly or blending the fruit’s juice in a hard cider.

The proper uses for a Hyslop crabapple have been known since the 1800s. The horticulturalist brothers Downing listed it in The Fruits and Fruit Trees of North America from 1869 and state that, “This variety has been long and pretty extensively cultivated,” and that it is “good for culinary uses and for cider.” Despite the Downings’ mention of Hyslop’s long tradition of cultivation, the historical trail starts, or rather stops, with their brief description. Yet the plethora of nursery listings and horticultural society mentions of Hyslop in subsequent years confirms that this crabapple must have been widely grown by 1869, particularly in the Midwest, where it gained notoriety for being “very capricious” and “frequently blighting to death.”

Much relevant, and amusing, information can be gleaned from horticultural society publications of yore. Previous generations really took their plants seriously! As you might imagine, in the pre-1900 Midwestern states, life was not particularly easy and folks lived and died by the crop varieties they threw in with. Opinions of cultivars were vociferously expressed and histories of favorites were passionately debated (you may recall the colorful background of the ‘Blacktwig’ apple, which we described in a previous newsletter). An excerpt from the proceedings of the Winter Meeting of the Minnesota State Horticultural Society over three days in January, 1877 exemplifies the strongheld attitudes of our forebears regarding their crops. In this case, the debate relates to the Hyslop crabapple, as the society revised its annual listings of apple and crabapple varieties:

“A motion was made to discourage the cultivation of the Hyslop Crab.
Judge Baker coming in just then made a heavy speech against the motion. They looked, he said, to the Hyslop and Transcendent to get all their fruit.
Mr. Dartt would like to see the tree stricken from the list. The tree was hardy, but subject to blight.
Mr, Smith’s experience did not coincide with those of others. The Hyslop in the St. Paul market would bring one-third more than any other crab. It was famous for jelly. If fruit growers would take hold of it, thousands of dollars might be saved by going into the manufacture of jelly. It keeps longer than any other crab in the market, with the exception of the Soulard. Blights a little, but should be retained on the list.
Mr. Gideon gave his experience. He could get 25 per cent. more for the Hyslop than for the Transcendent, but could make more at selling the latter at $1.25 than the former at $1.50. He was not in favor of discarding it, by any means.
Mr. Brimhall was in favor of retaining it. It sells readily in market, the color is good, and he thought it a valuable apple for this locality. He could never get enough to supply his customers.
Mr. Jewell said the objection to the Hyslop was in his mind so strong as to constitute a sufficient reason for its rejection. It has a thick skin, is liable to blight, and generally inferior to the others.
A motion to strike it from the list was lost.
Mr. Jordan thought the Hyslop, in comparison with the others, was pretty much as the fellow’s mixture of sawdust and meal, for wintering calves—the less sawdust there was, the better. The less Hyslop there was, the better.
The variety was finally recommended for cultivation in small quantities, by a vote of 10 for and 3 against.”

It’s worth noting that in 1877 people would have been grafting apples onto standard rootstocks that take quite a long time to bear, particularly in a colder region like Minnesota. And since the opinionated horticultural society members seem to have had extensive experience with growing Hyslop crabs by this 1877 meeting, it would seem that the long and extensive history of cultivation the Downings mentioned in 1869 might stretch back a good deal farther, indeed. We just think it’s neat that anyone would get so worked up over a crabapple! It is certainly interesting to note just how agriculturally important crabapples were in past centuries. A University of Minnesota publication from 1903 declares with regard to Hyslop that “no fruit is more sought after or commands a better price in the market.”

At any rate, in The Apples of New York, published in 1905, S.A. Beach describes Hyslop as “one of the best known and most widely cultivated of the crabapples.” By this time, Hyslop had made its way into Canada, as well, for in The Canadian Apple Grower’s Guide of 1910, author Linus Woolverton lists Hyslop as “a well-known and widely cultivated variety of hybrid crab.” Of course, he perfunctorily lists the apple’s “commercial value” as “second class, but very good for culinary uses and for cider,” also noting that “its dark rich red color and its late season combine to make it a valuable variety.”

At some point in its history, Hyslop’s spelling started to show some slight variation. W.H. Ragan, in Nomenclature of the Apple, published in 1905, gives the name of the variety as ‘Hislop,’ but notes that it is “perhaps instead intended for Hyslop.” This alternative spelling is perhaps significant, for Dan Busey concluded in his recent Illustrated History of Apples in the United States and Canada that Hislop was the earliest, proper spelling of the crabapple’s name, and that it was a Wisconsin apple named for Milwaukee nurseryman Thomas Hislop.

An alternate history affirms Hyslop as the conclusive spelling over Hislop, and links the name to the prominent Massachusetts family of Hyslop. William Hyslop Sumner, one 19th Century descendent, was actually responsible for developing East Boston. As always with heirloom apples, the history as well as the mystery, may drive our interest, but at the end of the day, Hyslop is just a really nice little apple, and this has to count for a lot in the test of time.

We are longtime crabapple aficionados and so, outside of our orchards proper, our farm features a lengthy crabapple row that curves with the road leading through our property. A number of different varieties are alternated down the row, including about 6 Hyslop crabs. We included Hyslop at the recommendation of apple authority Tom Burford, who considered it one of the best varieties for vinegar production.

In his book, Apples of North America, Tom highlighted Hyslop and described how, “even in her nineties, [his] mother would always remind [him] to set aside a few bushels of Hyslop for apple pickle making. After pricking the apples with a darning needle to prevent bursting, they were lightly cooked in a wide granite pan, packed in quart jars, covered with low-sugar syrup, and processed. The syrup would turn brilliant red from the peel of these brightly colored crabapples.” The red skin does indeed come through in cooking applications, and Hyslop crabs can also be added to applesauce to enhance both color and flavor.

This time of the year, Hyslop’s vibrant color catches the eye and holds it as you pass by the trees. We check them frequently for ripeness, as it is truly a pleasure to examine the lovely fruit as the color brightens, then deepens with its distinctive blue bloom.

Long, hot summer work days make a body thirsty. Perhaps that’s why we recently came up with the idea to try making beer with our apple cider syrup. Serendipitously, right around the same time, a brewery contacted us about getting some of our fruit to make an apple beer. Our interest was peaked and we hard cider hobbyists pivoted to begin exploring all the ways one might make an apple beer.

Unsurprisingly, many so-called apple beers are simply beers to which artificial apple flavor has been added. But there are plenty of options for making a genuine apple beer. You can add fresh cider or fresh apples at different times in the fermentation process, or even use the pomace that is leftover after pressing cider from apples. And we are loving the exceptional flavor that our apple cider syrup brings to a beer.

What we are making is perhaps best termed a ‘graf.’ In what has to be one of the more bizarre creation stories of all time, home brewers adopted this term and concept from The Dark Tower book series by Stephen King, wherein the author mentions a cider-beer hybrid he dubs graf. The home brewing community decided that this fictional beverage should be a delicious reality and have really developed the concept. Today you can find plenty of graf-making guidance and recipes, but the concept is still a very loose one, encompassing all sorts of hybrid creations that mingle elements of both beer and hard cider. For our part, we’ve enjoyed everything we’ve brewed so far.

For our maiden graf fermentation we set up a batch of “molasses” beer from a recipe where we swapped out molasses for cider syrup. After the primary fermentation, we divided our batch into two buckets, bottled one, but then added leftover pomace from pressed ‘Redfield’ and ‘Burford’s Redflesh’ apples to the other half of the batch to see how that worked out. The hope was that the pomace enhanced the apple flavor, whilst adding tannins, acidity, and perhaps even a hint of rosy color from the redfleshed apples. It has been a pleasure to sample the results, and having fallen headlong down this rabbit hole, we are gearing up for more experimental batches.

One really nice thing about playing with beers is that the batch turnaround is so fast. You can begin enjoying your product in as little as 2 weeks from the time you started the process! Likewise, beer can be more accessible for a newbie than wine or cider. These days, it’s easy to find a good homebrew store within driving distance for ingredients and the minimal equipment involved (the only equipment most people might need to purchase is a couple of food-grade buckets and some hose for siphoning). You can gather everything you need and be brewing the same day.

Calling all homebrewers: looking for something new and different? Might we suggest an apple beer! We’ve posted our working recipe on our website (scroll down the page to the Cider Syrup Recipes heading). Now that we’ve got a good basis to start from, we’ll be tweaking it as we play around with different yeasts, hops, etc.

We are just delighted that we can add beer to the long list of delicious things one can make with Baba Yaga’s Apple Cider Syrup — cheers!