Chuck Wendig: Terribleminds

Reviewing anything is probably quite silly.

It’s an alarmingly ego-fed act to put yourself in a position of having not just an opinion but then sharing that opinion and, further, expecting that opinion to be taken seriously — perhaps even expertly.

Certainly when a review truly becomes an emblem of earned expertise, we call it a critique. And the reviewer transcends mere thumbs-up-thumbs-down pedantry and embraces expertise as a critic. At least, that’s true of books and movies and other pieces of art — true too of restaurant meals, but less true, I think, of an apple. I can review an apple but can I really… critique an apple? One supposes that some apples were in fact somewhat more “designed” than others, and maybe, maybe those can earn a critique. But it is weird to critique a piece of fruit that sprung up out of the ground largely unbidden. It feels like, I JUDGE YOU, NATURE. I BITE MY THUMB AT YOU, MOTHER GAIA. YOUR FRUITS ARE SUBSTANDARD. CALL ME WHEN YOU’VE DECIDED TO TAKE THE HARVEST SERIOUSLY, YOU AMATEUR PLANET. GET IT TOGETHER, COSMOS.

And yet, here I am.

Reviewing apples like some kind of apple-reviewing asshole.

And I’m going to now somewhat negatively review an apple — and it’s an apple that I think a lot of people like, because it has been recommended to me many-a-time. So, before I do that, let’s just note that nothing I say should be taken seriously, and you should like what you like. A lot of negative reviews (reviews, not critiques) really do come from a place of, “I bought this duck but I wanted a dog.” They then review the duck from the disappointment of having no dog when a dog was desired and perhaps even expected. “This duck will not play fetch with me. This duck does not guard my home! I thought this duck would cuddle me but the duck does not cuddle. This duck is terrible.”

So, when I review this apple, understand that I am reviewing from a place of: I wanted an apple I did not get. But it might be an apple you actually want! And that’s fine. Even if you’re wrong because I am a monstrous apple snob.

Let’s talk about the Ambrosia apple.

A lot of people told me to find the Ambrosia apple. It’s a Canadian variety — from BC, I’m to understand — with the exciting origin story of, “An apple tree popped up and the fruits were good so we made more of it.” (Weird fact: there is apparently a ‘premium’ version of this apple called the Ambrosia Gold. Except it’s just the same apple? I don’t think it gets satellite radio or vibrates or anything. Branding is wild.)

I ate the Ambrosia apple.

It is, in short, a child’s apple.

It’s an apple for a second-grader’s lunchbox. Maybe a third-grader’s. By fourth-grade, I expect greater discernment. By fifth grade, one hopes the child has learned to seek complexity and refinement; no longer content with mere chicken nuggies, they seek a perfectly roast chicken. Or perhaps Coq au Vin.

This apple is the chicken nuggies of apples.

It is very, very sweet.

It was not really at all tart.

It tasted like bubblegum — almost cherry bubblegum.

The one thing it really has going for it is that this apple was a near-to-perfect texture. It’s not soft. It’s crisp, but not crunchy. Which makes it easy and fast to eat. Sometimes it’s really, really nice biting into an apple that seems like it wants to be eaten. It does not resist consumption but rather has made itself perfect for its own destruction by teeth and tummy acid. And this apple has that texture. It’s juicy. That crispness is light, almost airy. It simply disappears under mouth assault.

And that sweetness obviously isn’t unpleasant. But I don’t want bubblegum, or just bubblegum, when I eat an apple.

I WANT TO LIVE, DAMN YOU.

I dunno. It’s fine! You might like it. I don’t care for it. I’ll use it in applesauce but will definitely zhuzh (is that how you spell that word) it up with some citrus to tart it up a good bit. I’m sure it’s just me. This duck is a terrible dog.

Final score: I can’t go below a 5.0 out of 10 but I can’t go above it either, it is the near-perfect exemplar of ‘mid’

Ambrosia: for fans of Paw Patrol

2026 reviews so far:

Gravenstein | Hubbardston Nonesuch | Lamb Abbey Pearmain | Hewes Crab | Opalescent | Chenango Strawberry | William’s Pride | Blenheim Orange | Golden Nugget | Doctor Harvey | Kickapoo Spice | St Edmunds Pippin | Sops of Wine | Fenceline Surprise | Americus Crab | Campfield | Graham | Jonagold | Reine des Reinettes Re-Review | Glockenapfel | Franc Rambour | Grimes Golden

2025 reviews:

Honeycrisp, Sweetie, Crimson Crisp, Knobbed Russet, Cortland, Maiden’s Blush, Cox’s Orange Pippin, Reine des Reinettes, Ingrid Marie, Hudson’s Golden Gem, Holstein, Suncrisp, Ashmead’s Kernel, Opalescent, Orleans Reinette, Black Gilliflower, Red Delicious Double Feature, Jonathan, Ruby Mac, Crimson Topaz, Esopus Spitzenburg, Mutsu, Hunnyz, Winesap, Stayman Winesap, Winter Banana, Ribston Pippin, Rhode Island Greening, Roxbury Russet, Opal, Cosmic Crisp, Black Oxford, Ananas Reinette, Sugarbee, Granny Smith, LucyGlo/LucyRose, Ludacrisp, D’arcy Spice, Lemonade, Wild Twist

I think it’s important in life to recognize that sometimes things just don’t go your way. They just don’t line up with your expectations — or, maybe, with what has been described to you as expectations. Sometimes we have bad information. Sometimes we have good information but just a bad situation. Chaos is ever at the margins of our daily existence. Entropy lurks in the wings, waiting to nibble and chew the struts and joists of our lives.

Or, rather, as the saying goes:

Shit happens.

(And no, I’m not talking about the elections on Tuesday.)

(Or, uhh, at least, I hope I’m not talking about the elections on Tuesday.)

(Also, go vote. Did you vote? Why haven’t you voted? Go vote! And don’t vote for these clownshow fascists. C’mon. Be better. We need you to do the right thing. The apples need you to do the right thing. And that’s real. Apples need a healthy environment to keep existing. To keep being delicious. So vote and vote well. For the apples and the eaters-of-apples.)

(Okay, back to APPLE TALK.)

I say all this because sometimes you watch expectations drive 100MPH into the brick wall of reality.

Specifically: the Grimes Golden apple.

The Grimes Golden has always been described to me as a fairly tasty apple. Have I had one before? Maybe? But I don’t remember it and don’t have much of a record of it. It’s certainly a pretty apple. Less gold and more the green of a Sour Patch kid dipped in a radioactive pond. If it were a crayon, it’d be Mister Burns Brings You Love. So, I had high hopes. Worse, I had high expectations.

To which I say:

Grimes Golden, you nasty.

Now, again, I’m sure this applies to the specific apple I ate, and not all Grimes Goldenseses, but I’m not here to review all of them, I’m here to review the one I just ate. And the one I ate, in the words of my son’s generation, was buns.

Here’s the thing: the Grimes Golden is, by some reports, one of the parents of Golden Delicious. And, by those same reports, the Golden Delicious is a more respectable version of its parent (I guess we should all be so lucky) in that many of its more complicated flavors were shaved off, filed down, painted over. Grimes Golden has been said to have flavors of various spices and peppercorns and brown sugar and citrus and all that. A funkier Golden Delicious. And that funk is probably one of its selling points as an heirloom varietal — big agriculture was happy to be rid of such complexity and dull down apples for a more common palate, but smaller agriculture is (thankfully) happier to lean into the more unique fingerprint of each fruit. So that means we can access more interesting, well, flavor journeys.

Well, my flavor journey with this apple was:

“Oh, this is juicy.”

“Hey, this is tart, I like it.”

“Hey, something is happening in my mouth.”

“Oh noooo I don’t like this as much now.”

“What is happening to my tongue?”

“Am I licking the wall in a house belonging to a chain smoker?”

“Is that Worcestershire sauce?”

“This is some Willy Wonka shit.”

“I feel like I’m drinking apple juice through a dirty sock.”

“And now the skin lingers.”

“The skin is in my mouth.”

“The skin won’t leave my mouth.”

“Please help.”

It was a whole journey. Ashy to vinegary to sweet but in a strange way — it was like, hey here’s tamarind mixed with gym shorts! That’s a flavor you wanted, right? No? Too bad! Now chew the skin! Chew the skin forever!

The best part of that journey was the start. Because it got weird fast.

At least it was nicely crisp and juicy.

So again, Grimes Golden, I say to you:

You nasty.

(p.s. Black River Orchard is still $2.99 at all your favorite e-book platforms — no idea how long that lasts, but it’s there now, so ta-da, huzzah, hooray)

Final score: I admire the weirdness of it, and those initial seconds, and that’s gonna get this apple a 3.3 out of 10, but I am quite certain in future years I will eat one with a markedly better score

Grimes Golden: nasty little nuclear baby

2026 reviews so far:

Gravenstein | Hubbardston Nonesuch | Lamb Abbey Pearmain | Hewes Crab | Opalescent | Chenango Strawberry | William’s Pride | Blenheim Orange | Golden Nugget | Doctor Harvey | Kickapoo Spice | St Edmunds Pippin | Sops of Wine | Fenceline Surprise | Americus Crab | Campfield | Graham | Jonagold | Reine des Reinettes Re-Review | Glockenapfel | Franc Rambour

2025 reviews:

Honeycrisp, Sweetie, Crimson Crisp, Knobbed Russet, Cortland, Maiden’s Blush, Cox’s Orange Pippin, Reine des Reinettes, Ingrid Marie, Hudson’s Golden Gem, Holstein, Suncrisp, Ashmead’s Kernel, Opalescent, Orleans Reinette, Black Gilliflower, Red Delicious Double Feature, Jonathan, Ruby Mac, Crimson Topaz, Esopus Spitzenburg, Mutsu, Hunnyz, Winesap, Stayman Winesap, Winter Banana, Ribston Pippin, Rhode Island Greening, Roxbury Russet, Opal, Cosmic Crisp, Black Oxford, Ananas Reinette, Sugarbee, Granny Smith, LucyGlo/LucyRose, Ludacrisp, D’arcy Spice, Lemonade, Wild Twist

I do not know why Black River Orchard is a mere three bucks at your chosen ebookmonger platform (which does include Kobo and Bookshop-dot-org btw), but it is, so if you really wanna get freaky-freaky and smash up both APPLE SEASON and SPOOKY SEASON, well, I think I might just have the book for you.

Small-town suburban folk cult folk horror all surrounding the introduction of a new (aka ancient) evil apple variety? I mean, hey, I had to monetize all this weird apple knowledge somehow.

It’s definitely one of my favorite things I’ve written. Maybe the most favoritest thing I’ve written. I just am really glad I pulled it off — I wasn’t sure I was going to be able to pull it off, honestly. It was a hard book to get my hands around but I think? Maybe?? It worked out??? Who knows.

That’s your call, not mine.

And at least you can make the call now for like, three bucks.

Not even three bucks. $2.99. Can’t buy anything for that price anymore. I think three bucks even costs more than three bucks.

If you’ve read it, then maybe tell a friend to go grab it.

And then maybe leave a review somewhere!

AND THEN MAYBE LEAVE ME A SECRET CACHE OF APPLES SOMEWHERE, APPLES TO APPEASE ME AND MY DARK APPETITES

OR SHOULD I SAY

APPLETITES

WHICH ADMITTEDLY I FIRST MISTYPED AS APPLETITS

WHICH IS VERY DIFFERENT

I need to stop writing this post now, it’s all gone awry

Check out the book! Thanks! Bye!

There are many quality apple websites you can go to to read about apples and orchards — Orange Pippin is pretty good and you can search up orchards there. Obviously I’m a huge fan of Adam’s Apples, a blog dedicated to a much smarter person than I am eating and talking about heirloom apples. There’s also Pomiferous! Lot of great apple info to be gleaned at that site.

Today’s apple is the Franc Rambour, sometimes called the Rambour Franc, and if you’re me, you might call him FRANK RAMBO. I was over at Pomiferous looking up info about said apple, and under the header “cultivation,” it said the following:

Vigorous. Spur bearer. Precocious.

And I’m pretty sure that’s just erotica for botanical apple nerds.

That’s just shit you whisper into your Apple Husband’s* ear to get the party started, you know? Bring the apple sapling branch down on their backside with each of your naughty apple words, Pomiferous!

I guess the Rambour is a designation of an apple originating in an area of France called the Rambures? And now I am left to wonder the impact of terroir — as in, the way the environment affects the production of a fruit or a vegetable, imprinting upon it its unique characteristics — on apple trees. If these apples are named as such because of the region in which they are grown, is it truly the same apple if we grow it in, say, Vermont? Or Scotland? Or Canada? Or even in France, outside the region of their origin? Certainly we think that way about some grapes, or cheeses, and the like. Apples don’t seem to have the same designation.

Do the apples change when grown elsewhere? It stands to figure they would — though of course how an apple is grown isn’t the same, really. It’s not from seed. Apples are clones, generally, having been grafted.

Cider seems to be subject to some terroir, though there that’s also due to the unique microflora in a region that affect the fermentation — not necessarily due to the apples. So, that’s the question.

Is the FRANK RAMBO I ate really even the same apple, even though it’s a clone? Or is the way an apple is grown more, mm, let’s say protective of its characteristics regardless of the soil and air and water that help to grow in a specific region?

I don’t know! I am merely an amateur appleologist.

But if you know things, you should tell me!

WHATEVER. Onto the apple.

---

This apple, I yoinked from Scott Farm in Vermont.

I got it pretty late in its theoretical season, so I suspect that has affected the apple — some apples are keepers that improve over time in storage, but usually that’s a later-season apple, and early-season apples tend to be quite temporary before the whole thing goes off.

As such, the apple I ate was not the crisp, breaking apple oft-described — rather, it was softer than that. Not mealy! Not at all. Not sandy or mushy. But it was an easy chew, and inordinately juicy, as if the skin of the thing was simply an apple-shaped bag by which to contain its deliquescing apple ooze.

The flavor was I think best described as “refreshing” — the flavor wasn’t big, wasn’t particularly pronounced, and leaned toward tart and floral way more than sweet. And even the tartness wasn’t off the charts, and the florality was fairly subdued, leading to a pleasant but probably somewhat forgettable apple? Most descriptions also suggest its a subacid (aka sweeter) apple, and this just wasn’t that. Possibly another side effect of eating it so late in its season, though I think usually they tend to grow sweeter as they break down rather than less so?

(Again: not an expert. Merely an amateur Apple Boy.)

Another year — eaten earlier in that year — might offer a better, nicer bite.

ALAS.

Onward, to more apples.

Final score: I think a 5.5 outta 10 is fair for this apple, though I expect in another year, that score would jump a bit

Franc Rambour: Like drinking the memory of apple juice

* (or Apple Wife’s or Apple Partner’s, and only now am I realizing this is definitely a new version of Wicker I’m pretty into, I can’t wait for the Sexy Apple Tree version of Alexander Skarsgard)

2026 reviews so far:

Gravenstein | Hubbardston Nonesuch | Lamb Abbey Pearmain | Hewes Crab | Opalescent | Chenango Strawberry | William’s Pride | Blenheim Orange | Golden Nugget | Doctor Harvey | Kickapoo Spice | St Edmunds Pippin | Sops of Wine | Fenceline Surprise | Americus Crab | Campfield | Graham | Jonagold | Reine des Reinettes Re-Review | Glockenapfel

2025 reviews:

Honeycrisp, Sweetie, Crimson Crisp, Knobbed Russet, Cortland, Maiden’s Blush, Cox’s Orange Pippin, Reine des Reinettes, Ingrid Marie, Hudson’s Golden Gem, Holstein, Suncrisp, Ashmead’s Kernel, Opalescent, Orleans Reinette, Black Gilliflower, Red Delicious Double Feature, Jonathan, Ruby Mac, Crimson Topaz, Esopus Spitzenburg, Mutsu, Hunnyz, Winesap, Stayman Winesap, Winter Banana, Ribston Pippin, Rhode Island Greening, Roxbury Russet, Opal, Cosmic Crisp, Black Oxford, Ananas Reinette, Sugarbee, Granny Smith, LucyGlo/LucyRose, Ludacrisp, D’arcy Spice, Lemonade, Wild Twist

Sometimes, looking back over my “apple review notes” is a weird treat. In this case, I found a note that said GLOCKENAPFEL: IT GLISTENS!!! and it was also underlined. So, anyway, I guess that’s the tagline for this apple?

I got this one from Scott Farm in Vermont — and here is where I dutifully remind you that you can get a box of heirloom apples shipped to you directly. It ain’t cheap, but the apples are weird, well-packed, and of high-quality.

(They are hashtag NotASponsor of terribleminds. I am just a fan.)

Anyway! The Glockenapfel.

It is also called the Pomme Cloche, and both terms mean bell apple, or bell-shaped apple. Because, I guess, it’s shaped like a bell? Mine was shaped like an apple. I want my money back.

It’s an apple whose origins are quite old — 500+ years. And it’s Swiss! Which means once every hour, a little cuckoo pops out of it with a beak made from a single apple seed, and it says APFEL! APFEL! before pecking the apple seed into your eye. Probably. I might’ve been hallucinating.

My understanding is this is predominantly for cooking, not for eating, and is in fact the apple chosen to make apple strudel. Which is delightful, except for the part I now want apple strudel. And then I looked up strudel, because I thought I knew what strudel was, and I did not? How did I not know what strudel was? It’s just little pies? Why did I think it looked like funnel cake? And now I also want funnel cake?? I’m very stupid. I should go eat a pickle and reset my entire palate.

Regardless.

The Glockenapfel.

In my notes, I also wrote, also underlined, LEMON KARATE!!

Which is a very good band name, a very good candy name, and actually a very good name for a lot of things. A cat? A child belonging to Gwyneth Paltrow? A weed strain? A town in upstate Pennsylvania? Yes to all of that.

It is, however, also a good description of what happened when I ate this apple.

It basically immediately punched my mouth with an intense lemon, well, karate kick. It was just like KIYAAA and I was like OH FUCK and then a really delightful pink lemonade berry vibe settled in after. And not a super sweet lemonade, either, but a good tart lemonade.

The other thing was, it was ludicrously juicy. And that was something of an issue because the juice flooded my maw, then the tartness electroshocked my saliva production, which kind of led me to drool a little bit. Which is not the ideal situation when you’re eating an apple. You look like a drugged-out donkey who got into the yard mushrooms. Not a great vibe.

Texture was firm and hard breaking, with a real crunch.

I liked it.

You go, Glockenapfel.

Final score: For the novelty of it, I’m gonna give it a nice 6.9 outta 10

Glockenapfel: IT GLISTENS!! LEMON KARATE!!!

2026 reviews so far:

Gravenstein | Hubbardston Nonesuch | Lamb Abbey Pearmain | Hewes Crab | Opalescent | Chenango Strawberry | William’s Pride | Blenheim Orange | Golden Nugget | Doctor Harvey | Kickapoo Spice | St Edmunds Pippin | Sops of Wine | Fenceline Surprise | Americus Crab | Campfield | Graham | Jonagold | Reine des Reinettes Re-Review

2025 reviews:

Honeycrisp, Sweetie, Crimson Crisp, Knobbed Russet, Cortland, Maiden’s Blush, Cox’s Orange Pippin, Reine des Reinettes, Ingrid Marie, Hudson’s Golden Gem, Holstein, Suncrisp, Ashmead’s Kernel, Opalescent, Orleans Reinette, Black Gilliflower, Red Delicious Double Feature, Jonathan, Ruby Mac, Crimson Topaz, Esopus Spitzenburg, Mutsu, Hunnyz, Winesap, Stayman Winesap, Winter Banana, Ribston Pippin, Rhode Island Greening, Roxbury Russet, Opal, Cosmic Crisp, Black Oxford, Ananas Reinette, Sugarbee, Granny Smith, LucyGlo/LucyRose, Ludacrisp, D’arcy Spice, Lemonade, Wild Twist