Tag: Big Fruit

  • The Big Apples, Batlow, NSW

    The Big Apples, Batlow, New South Wales

    Batlow’s got a lovely bunch of apples
    There they are, all standing in a row
    Big ones, bigger ones, some as big as a shed
    Their enormous size draws tourists like flies
    That’s what Bigs Bardot said

    They reckon Batlow is a town built on apples but, after a thorough investigation, I can reveal that most buildings are actually constructed upon concrete foundations. The locals do, however, go wild for a fresh honeycrisp.

    Not only do Batlow’s farmers provide 10% of the country’s total crop (a fact repeated by far more than 10% of the Batlowians I encountered), but there are THREE Big Apples dotted around the picturesque village.

    With only 1,313 residents, that’s one Big Apple per 437.666666667 Batlowians. I like those odds!

    The most prominent is the original Big Apple, an assuming fellow who’s lived just north of town for the past four decades. He’s the size of a small house, but don’t think about going in for a cuddle, because he’s on private land and it’s not possible to get within 100 metres of him. Oh well, distance makes the heart grow fonder.

    Until recently the Apple was barely visible through the flourishing orchards, but they’ve been thinned out in recent years due to fire, so it’s easy to see this scarlet scoundrel. Grab your binoculars and settle in for a big afternoon of apple-gazing!

    The Appleman Cometh

    Wilgro Orchard, a few hundred metres south, is home to a second Big Apple. Alright, it’s only half an apple pasted to a wall, but the owners are good people so I’ll give them a break. After snapping some memorable photos with this Apple, I popped inside for a dollop of Wilgrow’s famous apple chutney and a cheeky glass of their world-renowned cider. You know, just to make sure they’re fresh.

    After Gordon’s performance at the Darkes Forest Apple, we decided it was best for him to stay in the car, but on my way out he gave me the sort of judgemental look that only recovering alcoholics can.

    Halfway through my fifth can of the astonishingly good Batlow Road Cider, a funny little man with a bright red nose and a pronounced lisp wrapped his arms around me and introduced himself as The Appleman. His embrace lasted a little too long, but we were both appreciative of the human contact.

    “Bigs,” he slurred, before taking more than a sip out of my can. “It was January 2020. The flames climbed to the heavens and the wind was hotter than hell. The orange nightmare raged towards Batlow, destroying everything in its path. Houses were lost. Memories were eaten by the flames. But the community came together and fought the fire, standing shoulder to shoulder to beat it back.

    “We saved the Big Apples that day, my handsome friend. All three of them.”
    “And the rest of the village?”
    “I guess so,” shrugged the inebriate. “I only really cared about the Apples.”

    The drunk’s story was so inspirational that I shared about 12 cans of cider with him as we discussed processes that could be implemented to prevent other Big Apples – such as the ones in Tallong, Yerrinbool, Acacia Ridge and Balhannah – falling victim to the folly of bushfire in the future. And whether a polar bear could beat a karate man in a fight.

    Unfortunately I made the unforgivable faux pas of asking for a cup of pear cider.

    “This is an apple town, Bigs,” The Appleman boomed as he threw me into the street. “Don’t you forget it!”

    Core, Blimey!

    Fortunately Gordon – who made it clear he wasn’t angered by my behaviour, just disappointed –  was able to drive me to the third Apple, located a few hundred metres north of town. As he sat in the car calling those he’d wronged during his drunken years, I took a few happy snaps with what the locals call the redheaded stepchild of the Batlow Big Apples. 

    Created for annual Batlow CiderFest, this one’s pretty run down, discoloured, and is only half an apple. If I hadn’t been so drunk on good cider and great conversation, I may not have considered him a Big Thing at all. On the bright side, he’s the only one of the three positioned for a kiss and a cuddle.

    I indulged myself in animated conversation with this Apple until Gordon – capricious as always – dragged me away and threw me in the boot of the car. It was for my own good, really.

    Batlow’s Big Apples are shiny, sultry and seductive. But they’re also too much fun for one afternoon, and the sensory overload of encountering so many oversized fruits in such a short period of time will prove too much for all but the most cold-hearted party pooper.

    My advice is to relax, give yourself plenty of time, and don’t head to Batlow if you’re traveling with a recovering alcoholic alien – they’ll only get in the way of a good time.

  • The Big Cherry, Wyuna, Vic

    The Big Cherry, Wyuna, Victoria

    Sunglasses, cheeky grin, rockstar swagger. No, I’m not talking about myself, I’m describing the coolest cat in the Goulburn Valley, the legendary Big Cherry! The bright-red dude with ’tude has been breaking hearts for the past two decades, so I decided the time to meet this cherry was ripe!

    As I researched the Cherry in my la-big-atory, I discovered that rumours of his current whereabouts abounded. Some said he’d moved to Byron Bay to become an influencer, others that he’d fled to South America to live with a giant tamarillo. I tracked him down to the Big Cherry Farm in splendid Wyuna, where he’s always been. Rumours of his travels have, apparently, been greatly exaggerated.

    Tragically, upon arrival I discovered that the farm has been closed for several years due to water shortages, with the sunnies-sporting-sweetheart locked 100 metres down a driveway, behind a gate. I called out to whoever might be inhabiting the farm to let me in, but there was no response. Upon dialling the number on the sign out the front, I discovered it was disconnected. I yodelled towards the Big Cherry himself, in the desperate hope that he might roll towards me to say hello, but it wasn’t to be. He just sat there, back turned, smiling into the twilight.

    Left cold and alone in rural Victoria, I took a forlorn photo with the sign out the front of the farm. To put it in perspective, it was like missing out on an Eagle-Eye Cherry concert due to a drunken stepfather and consoling yourself by listening to his acclaimed 1997 single Save Tonight on a Sony Discman.

    A Cherry Nice Fellow Indeed

    I was shattered that I was unable to meet the cherry, and disgusted with myself for letting you, his fans and admirers, down. My sincerest apologies, although I hope my encounter with the Big Fruit Bowl goes some way towards for it – I think there’s a cherry or two in there.

    With tears in my eyes I raced across the border to spend time with the more wholesome cherries in Young as a consolation prize, but it just wasn’t the same. They don’t have the glasses, the style, or the devil-may-care demeanour that harkens back to a young Val Kilmer. Young’s Big Cherries might steal your heart, but they would never steal your girlfriend.

    I won’t, however, give up on my dream to meet the Big Cherry – just look at those Reebok Pumps, he’s a regular Cherry-quille O’Neal! If you own the farm, know the owners, or have any other info or tips to help me in my quest to spend an afternoon with a really big piece of fruit, please contact me immediately. I’ll jump on my scooter and ride all night to have a lunch date with this spherical spunk if I have to. Trust me, if I get to meet Captain Cool, I’ll be cherry appreciative!

  • The Big Banana, Coffs Harbour, NSW

    Football, meat pies, kangaroos and the Big Banana. This prodigious plantain has grown to become a huge part of Australia’s national identity. He represents this great country’s culture and history, hopes and dreams. Every child holds fond memories of popping into the Banana on a road trip up north, having their photo snapped in front of the Coffs Harbour icon, and then smashing into a delicious chocolate-covered frozen banana at the adjoining cafe.

    This is Australia, distilled to her essence and molded into one 13-metre-long potassium-powered Big Thing.

    The Big Banana sits proudly above the Pacific Highway and is unmissable as you drive past. He’s massive, bright, and exquisitely crafted. The friendly fruit is also perfectly positioned for a photo (as the long lines prove!) and is large enough to walk through. The small yet absolutely fascinating agricultural exhibit inside is unmissable.

    If you feel like monkeying around, the Banana-themed fun park really Caven-dishes up the thrills! Peel off your clothes at the water park, spend an elongated afternoon at the putt-putt golf, or take on the terrifying toboggan ride, which is suitable for both men and lady-fingers.

    For those who flat out refuse to eat anything that’s not yellow, there’s a mouthwatering cheesemaking workshop. If you’ve got a sweet tooth, head to the cafe for a banana split (fortunately they’re available seven days a week, not just on sundaes). Unfortunately I’m no longer able to enjoy this delicious treat due to an unfortunate incident during my childhood – but don’t let that stop you from tucking in!

    Australia goes bananas!

    Banana salesman John Landi dreamed up the yellow fellow in 1964, to get tourists to stop by his fruit stand. After hiring – and subsequently firing – a local youth to dress as a gorilla and dance for traffic, he heard word of a pineapple of epic proportions that was doing a roaring trade in Hawaii. The time was ripe to jump on the Big Thing bandwagon, so he tapped engineer Alan Chapman and builder Alan Harvey to make it happen. It had to B1 of the best decisions ever!

    Construction ran smoothly and the Big Banana opened a year after Australia’s first giant roadside attraction, North Gosford’s Ploddy the Dinosaur, snarled his way into our hearts in 1963. That hasn’t prevented the Banana’s owners from falsely promoting him as the original Big Thing – but that’s a bunch of lies!

    Success was immediate, with Bananarama taking over Australia, and the plantation was greatly expanded to cover most of the surrounding hillside area. Giant produce, such as the original Big Pineapple and the Bilpin Fruit Bowl, popped up around the country in tribute. The profile of the ‘King of the Bigs’ exploded, culminating in a massive period of growth in the late-80s, when a whole bunch of exciting attractions were brought in from the recent Expo ’88 in Brisbane. There was even a train ride with a terrifying bunyip, which I particularly enjoyed as a young chap!

    The Banana goes rotten!

    The Big Banana was hailed as Australia’s Big Yellow Smile and became more famous than the Great Barrier Reef and the Sydney Opera House combined. But things were about to get rotten for vitamin-fuelled lothario. A few bad business decisions and a general perception that Big Things weren’t cool anymore (they always were and always will be, of course) led to the massive decline of the park.

    A number of the attractions were sold off – including the poor bunyip – and the Banana was left to wilt in the hot North Coast sun. Like the Big Pineapple and the Big Prawn, it seemed like this decaying delicacy had passed its best-before date.

    Proving miracles do happen, some more investment came in, the park was expanded again, and the Big Banana was given a new lease on life. The Banana has returned to its rightful place as one of the world’s greatest tourist attractions, on par with Disneyland and Machu Picchu, and no Australian child shall ever go without a visit to this humongous health food. Raise your chocolate-coated frozen bananas high in the air, as we toast the beating heart of Australian society.