The fruit is the iPod of apples, a/k/a Honeycrisp. The New York Times October 15, 2006 Our Towns Feeding Appetites for the iPod of Apples By PETER APPLEBOME Tivoli, N.Y. “This is really like a franchise apple,” Peter Gregg, a spokesman for the New York Apple Association, was saying the other day. “You know how sports teams talk about franchise players? This is like that. Nothing in recent memory has created this kind of a buzz. It’s definitely our most exciting new product. People bite into them, and they just go crazy.” O.K. Maybe apple people are getting a little overly excited about the Honeycrisp apple. But, hey, if you had what you thought of as the apple business (tree-grown division) version of the iPod in your orchards, maybe you would get a little overly excited, too. So in the odd mix of agronomy and product development that is the farming business in much of New York, consider the Honeycrisp apple. On the market for less than a decade, though still hard to find and unknown to many consumers, it is already a legend in its time and an object lesson in the new economics of ag marketing. First, let me say, journalistic objectivity aside, they’re on to something. Of course, unless you spend time at farmers’ markets you might not know what a Honeycrisp apple is. And even if you do, a comparison with an iPod might seem a bit off. You can’t download Eminem or Nickelback to one. But the Honeycrisp, developed in 1991 by two researchers at the University of Minnesota, really is kind of amazing: firm, wonderfully flavorful, tart and sweet at the same time. It’s no wonder that they often sell for twice as much as other apples and that growers sound like used-car dealers when they talk about them. “I’ve been doing this for 30 years, and there’s nothing that’s come close to this,” said Tre Green of Chazy Orchards in Chazy, N.Y. He was one of the first people in the state to try them and now has them on about 80 of his 800 acres. “It’s a hard apple to grow, but it has such a spectacular taste, I think supply is going to take a long, long time, if ever, to catch up with demand.” And if nothing in his experience selling apples is comparable, how about in other businesses? He paused: “Well, maybe the development of the Internet for information exchange.” Like most farming stories, the apple story is either horrible (glut, drought, hail, heat, imports) or terrific (bumper crop). This year, it seems to be pretty terrific. One reason, aside from good weather, is that farmers’ markets have matured into a standard part of the food chain, allowing farmers to sell their wares directly. Another is that many farmers have become such smart marketers and product developers. Take Chuck Mead, 51, and his dad, Sid, 82, at Mead Orchards in northern Dutchess County, where their family has been farming since 1916. In the early 1990’s, Chuck Mead was thinking of packing it in — too much work, too little gain, little prospect of things changing. But, in fact, they did. And now instead of just selling fruits and vegetables wholesale, at least half his business is selling at farmers’ markets, including ones every week in Mount Vernon, White Plains, the Bronx, Ossining and Rhinebeck. The pick-it-yourself business at the farm is having perhaps its best year, and his own sales there are going well. And rather than planting the same crops, he has developed into something like a buyer at Neiman-Marcus, always alert for exciting new product lines. So even though he is near the southern end of the range for growing them, he has planted about 800 or 900 Honeycrisp trees, with plans to add 1,000 more next year. “This is a much more complicated business than it used to be,” said Mr. Mead, who farms 185 acres on gorgeous hilly terrain across the Hudson from the Catskills. “You want to pick up on something new, and if you wait four or five years, you might miss it. But you also don’t want to plant a whole bunch of something that turns out to be a dog.” So, along with his tart cherries from Hungary and slightly weird Asian pears, along with the Cortlands, Cameos, Mutsus and Senshus, the Macouns, Idareds, Romes and Galas, Mr. Mead is now tending his Honeycrisps, a cross between a Macoun and a Honeygold. And having flirted with getting out, he is now so committed to farming he has sold the development rights to his land, meaning it will stay agricultural in perpetuity. Still, in the brave new world of entrepreneurial ag, he has one place where he draws the line. “Well, there’s also the entertainment angle,” he said. “You know the farms that have hay mazes, corn mazes, petting zoos, all kinds of stuff? That’s fine for some people and not for others. We get calls all the time: Do you do hayrides, do you do this or that? I just say, no, but we have a beautiful view of the mountains.” E-mail: peappl@nytimes.com

Today the Philadelphia Eagles signed Michael Vick. To most if not all of you reading this, you aren’t sitting there with the same type of shell shock like I am. Nor does it “hit home” as much as it does to me. First – the love I have for my team the Iggles is beyond words to describe. I have passionately followed this professional American football franchise since I was a young boy. I was born in Philly and mostly raised since elementary school in South Jersey – which is basically just an extension of Philadelphia. You’d understand this and realize this if you lived there. Everything is Eagles. Every cup you buy at a fast food joint, every flyer posted on to a telephone pole, every billboard, every commercial, every napkin in each restaurant, every beer can, every radio ad, every motherfucking shirt people wear, every candy wrapper, flags in front of peoples houses and bumper stickers and license plates and every motherfucking newspaper you can’t get away from it… EAGLES – EAGLES – EAGLES. It’s magnetic. It’s incredible. You can’t help NOT to be a fan when you are raised in South Jersey. The love for my team is fucking immense. I don’t miss games. Even in California, I found an Eagles bar that I visit every Sunday. I’m a rabid lunatic when it comes to this stupid team. So – the signing of Michael Vick? Wow! Can’t say I’m happy about it. Here is a guy who was instrumental in killing dogs. If you haven’t heard about him and what he did, you are living under the biggest rock that exists. What kind of piece of shit is involved in dog fighting? Killing dogs? Raising animals just to die. It’s fucking disgusting the whole concept and notion of it. It makes me curdle it’s so fucking bad. It goes beyond any fucking moral and belief that I try to bestow upon my own children. So my beloved team signing the most hated professional athlete in American sports? What the fuck? Forget the fact that we already have a top quarterback and drafted another guy who is supposed to be “the future” … forget all of that. Why the fuck are we signing the most hated person to join our team? Hello PETA! Hello parades of people hating the Eagles. Hello being made fun of because you are an Eagles fan? I say all of this. Yet – I feel kind of guilty that I’m a little excited that this guy is now a part of my team. With all the formally mentioned actually said, the guy was just a few years ago maybe the most gifted athlete in the NFL. He can work wonders with that football. He provides a different piece of our offense that did not exist without him in it. Wow man. Weird. Is the P.R. move versus signing a potentially amazing athlete worth it? Does doing 2 years in a federal prison, bankruptcy, and the entire world hating your entire existence enough punishment for a man who willingly killed dogs for fun? Because let’s face it – he didn’t do it for the money – he was already rich – he just did it for fun. Does he deserve a second chance? I edge towards yes. Although I’m not quite so sure I’d edge towards yes with my fine team. Unless we win the super bowl with him? I feel kind of like the biggest piece of shit on Earth writing that. The photo at hand? Me lying dead against a random shopping cart located down the street from me. I seem to enjoy laying dead. Is there something weird wrong with me? Location: 5 blocks from my apartment on the sidewalk; Alameda, California Taken: August 10th, 2009 (about 45 mins late.. post midnight) Posted: August 13th, 2009 *=lapse