Move over, SweeTango. There’s a new apple in town with a stupid name.
I spotted a “Juici” at Winco last night. It was shiny and very heavy, which is always a good sign, so I put it in my basket, where it was soon joined by two frozen dairy deserts and a package of Gardein fishes filets.
The first thing I noticed after cutting the apple to share it with my son is that it yellowed quickly. For me that is a hint that we are looking at a not-very-sour apple. The apple did indeed look very juicy.
The apple was pleasantly crisp and juicy but tasted like nothing but perhaps sugar water. To be fair, I say the same thing about Honeycrisps, which are one of the most beloved apples out there today. This apple, in fact, tastes a lot like a honey crisp. If not for the fact that it was noticeably smaller and redder I could have mistaken it for a honey crisp.
This apple does indeed have a perfect texture, but I prefer a firmer handshake from my apple. I love Granny Smiths, of course, but something like a Jonagold or a Pink Lady also has a way of greeting the apple consumer with more of a statement. Even the Jazz is an apple to get jazzed about.
A few minutes ago when I was googling for an image of a Juici (I couldn’t use the picture of the one I purchased since it was already half in my belly) I learned, without even leaving google, that the Juici is a hybrid of a Honeycrisp (figures) and a Braeburn (a hybrid of a Granny Smith and some red apple that is sometimes good and sometimes mealy with no way to tell a good one apart from a bad one without eating it). I am surprised that this overly polite apple is 25 percent Granny Smith.
I asked my five year old son, who loves apples, if he finished his. “I didn’t,” he said, after pausing and continuing, “I didn’t like it.” C-