The best apple of all is endangered.
http://www.nytimes.com/2011/09/02/us/02apples.html?_r=1SEBASTOPOL, Calif. — It would be almost impossible to visit this town, in the heart of Sonoma County, and miss the Gravenstein, the sweetly tart (or tartly sweet) apple whose name suggests a Transylvanian undertaker. The Gravenstein is harvested in August and often gone by Labor Day, and its name emblazons a local highway, a couple of schools, a town shopping center and an annual festival that draws thousands of visitors — and apple-a-day acolytes — to this mellow Bay Area getaway.
But despite its fame, the delicate little Gravenstein —the jewel of a once-thriving apple industry in the county — is in danger, its supporters say, in large part because of another product from Sonoma: wine.
“It’s grapes,” said Paul Kolling, a soft-spoken organic apple grower who farms 75 acres of Gravensteins in the picturesque hills outside town. “It’s just more profitable to grow grapes on the lands than apples anymore.”
Indeed, according to a recent report from the county agricultural commissioner, wine grapes were far and away the No. 1 crop in 2010, valued at about $390 million, while the Gravenstein checked in at No. 13, with a mere $1.7 million. And as goes profit, so goes the plow; land used for Gravensteins has dropped to 763 acres, the report said, down from 833 acres in 2009, part of a long decline in apples in the county. Wine grapes, meanwhile, took up more than 56,000 acres, with an array of cabernets, pinots and merlots soaking up sun and valuable water.
All of which has caused enough consternation among Gravenstein farmers and Gravenstein fans to set off a counteroffensive to “save the Gravenstein,” a motto seen on bumper stickers and handmade signs across the county. Leading the charge is a local chapter of the Slow Food movement, which promotes traditional and sustainably produced foods and which has enlisted dozens of restaurants to feature the apple in dishes and desserts, placed wooden boxes full of free Gravensteins all around Sebastopol and blanketed farmers’ markets with free samples of its juice.