꿀사과: Koreans call the particular fruit above, in direct literal translation, “honey apple,” which is not to be mistaken for literally honeyed apples (happy belated new year). Slicing one open reveals threads and globs of translucent tissue, as if drizzled honey were suspended within the flesh. The apple itself boasts a crisp, crunchy texture and subtle moisture release: sweet, but not juicy. I feel like I keep repeating myself here re: fresh produce/seafood/etc., but the Korean apple just tastes clean.
I used to have this thing for Pink Lady; I still do, for its tartness as well as the lovely and distinctive shade of its peel. Ironically, these qualities call to attention the fact that I am eating an apple that does not really look or taste the way I think an apple should. However much the Pink Lady charms, it strongly asserts its thoroughly modern conception upon first glance, then bite. The honey apple, in contrast, tastes like what you imagine an apple would have tasted like before mass agricultural industrialization rendered many a common fruit bland — the neo-original, with its frills discreetly contained within.