Kitchen
A morning among the apple trees at Bilpin
Twice a season, Clayton Richards drives to an orchard at Bilpin to choose apples for the kitchen. Last week I went along, and I am glad that I did.
Out of town
The road to the orchard
We left Katoomba at seven, with the fog still low in the valleys and a thermos of tea on the dashboard. Clayton drives slowly and talks about pastry. By the time we reached the orchard gate, he had explained to me, in considerable detail, why an apple crumble is only as good as its worst apple.
The grower met us at the packing shed. He is a quiet man with large hands, and he has supplied the kitchen since the first winter. He does not call himself a supplier; he says he is a neighbour who happens to have trees.
What we learned among the rows
Choosing for cooking
A cooking apple should hold its shape under heat, and the grower knows which trees do that. We walked the rows tasting and squeezing, and Clayton marked three varieties for crumbles, two for pies and one that he will only describe as secret.
The crates
The order is packed the same morning and travels back with us in the boot. Apples that are bruised, but not spoiled, go into the soup stock and the staff meal, so nothing from the orchard is wasted.
A cup of tea in the shed
We were given a cup of tea and a slice of apple cake from the grower's kitchen, which Clayton ate with deep suspicion before asking for the recipe to be written down. He did not receive the recipe.
We were back at Parke Street by eleven, in time for the pastry. The first crumble made from those apples went onto the board that same night and was gone by half past eight.
If you would like to taste what we chose, the first apple crumble of the season is on the board this week. It is served warm with custard, and Clayton asks only that you tell him honestly whether the apples are as good as the morning promised. He is not a man who minds criticism, only silence.