Feral apples redefine “eatability” When I was autistic info-dumping to my best friend about feral apples, she bristled at the thought of eating a lowly crabapple. (Love you, bestie, and I’m also on the fence.) But it opened up a dialogue about eatability. Even if something is edible, able to be consumed without great fear of poisoning or death, is still something you’d eat? With pleasure? At the very least, dignity? I know America has a f*cked food culture. So much of what ends up on mainstream grocery store shelves is genetically engineered, refined, stripped, buffed, deseeded, de-pitted, de-pulped, covered in wax. And that’s the best-case scenario for most people living in the United States, if they’re not disproportionately affected by food apartheid. On the other hand, there is so much food waste — so many fruits and veggies, and even prepared foods like baked goods and sandwiches that slip through the cracks.