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“The apple flavor had thoroughly soaked into the rice and onions...
... but, if the apples were simmered long enough to do that, wouldn't they have crumbled to mush? How they can still be so crisp?"
"That's true! How does that work?"
"Oh, that? That's easy. I used this!"
"Apple juice?!"
"Why use that?"
"First, I saut¨¦ed the onions and set them with the rice to simmer. Then I poured in a bit of the apple juice while it was all boiling down. I didn't add the diced apple until the very end, cooking them just long enough to heat them through."
"That's why they kept their crisp texture! Aha! What a brilliant idea! Using that juice let him unify the dish...
... infusing hints of apple flavor throughout the whole thing!”
― Yuto Tsukuda, ʳꪤΥ½©`¥Þ 6 [Shokugeki no Souma 6]

“You're always drinking apple juice. Do you have a Vitamin C deficiency?"
"The only deficiency I have is the sixteen years I spent on this planet not knowing how good apple juice could be."
"Isn't it the same everywhere?"
"That's what I would have thought, till I tried it here. The apples here are just next-level delicious and perfect. The juice is naturally sweet, refreshing, and satisfying.”
― Rachel Cohn, My Almost Flawless Tokyo Dream Life

“Sanna measured the apple juice into a large glass beaker and added it to the carboy, swirling a cheery red- like Santa's suit. She wrote down the amount in her notebook and did the same with the next juice, this one a bold sapphire blue, which mixed with the red into a vivid purple. When it came to cider, colors and flavors blended together for her. She knew she had the right blend when it matched the color she had envisioned. It wasn't scientific- and it didn't happen with anything else Sanna tasted- but here, with her beloved trees, it worked. She carefully tracked the blends in her journal. The sun streamed through the window, lighting up the colors in the carboy like Christmas lights. She was close- one more juice should do it. She closed her eyes, calling to mind all the juices in the barn's cooler and their corresponding colors.
Every juice she tasted from their apples had a slightly different hue, differing among individual varieties, but even varying slightly from tree to tree. When she was twenty-four, she had stood at the tall kitchen counter tasting freshly pressed juices she had made for the first time with the press she had unearthed from the old barn. Her plan had originally been to sell them in the farm stand, but she wanted to pick the best. As she sipped each one, an unmistakable color came to mind- different for each juice- and she finally understood the watercolor apple portraits above the fireplace. They were proof she wasn't the only family member who could see the colors. After she explained it to her dad, he smiled.
"I thought you might have the gift."
"You knew about this?"
"It's family legend. My dad said Grandpa could taste colors in the apples, but no one in my lifetime has been able to, so I thought it might be myth. When you returned home after college- the way you were drawn to Idun's- I thought you might have it." He had put his hands on the side of her face. "This means something good, Sanna."
"Why didn't you say anything? Why didn't I know before?"
"Would you have believed me?"
"I've had apple juice from the Rundstroms a thousand times. Why can't I see that with theirs?"
"I think it has something to do with apples from our land. We're connected to it, and it to us."
Sanna had always appreciated the sanctuary of the orchard, and this revelation bonded Sanna like another root digging into the soil, finding nourishment. She'd never leave.
After a few years of making and selling apple juice, Sanna strolled through the Looms wondering how these older trees still produced apples, even though they couldn't sell them. They didn't make for good eating or baking- Einars called them spitters. Over the years, the family had stopped paying attention to the sprawling trees since no one would buy their fruit- customers only wanted attractive, sweet produce. Other than the art above the mantel, they had lost track of what varieties they had, but with a bit of research and a lot of comparing and contrasting to the watercolors and online photos, Sanna discovered they had a treasure trove of cider-making apples- Kingston Black, Ashton Bitter, Medaille d'Or, Foxwhelp, her favorite Rambo tree, and so many more. The first Lunds had brought these trees to make cider, but had to stop during Prohibition, packing away the equipment in the back of their barn for Sanna to find so many years later.
She spent years experimenting with small batches, understanding the colors, using their existing press and carboys to ferment. Then, last year, Einars surprised her with plans to rebuild the barn, complete with huge fermentation tanks and modern mills and presses. Sanna could use her talent and passion to help move their orchard into a new phase... or so they had hoped.”
― Amy E. Reichert, The Simplicity of Cider

“Yesterday, she had pulled out of the freezer a few special juices from the Looms that she had frozen last fall and set them in the cooler to thaw. When she had pressed them last October, they hadn't produced as much juice as the apples from younger trees, but even the raw juices by themselves were interesting and complex, layers of apple and honey and something earthier. At the time, she'd decided to save them for inspiration to strike. As she had lain in bed, though, waiting for the first rays of light, a color blossomed. A rosy pink, with a hint of coral, bold and opaque. It didn't have any sharp edges. She knew instantly it required juice from one of the Looms.
She measured and blended, noting each of the juices she used and in what combination. Two parts Rambo, one part Winesap, a half part Britegold. She sipped it, but the color was too red, almost searing. She needed something to mute it. She walked into the large freezer where she had stored some of the frozen juices and even a few bushels of frozen apples she was experimenting with.
She ran her fingers over the giant apple ice cubes in flattened Ziploc bags, closing her eyes and letting the colors emerge- green, periwinkle, sunshine yellow, and a sunset orange.”
― Amy E. Reichert, The Simplicity of Cider