Polished apple

I had the luxury of a night's stay at the Dorchester in London last year, and my most frequent memory of that stay is not what you'd expect. It isn't the amazing model of the hotel in the lobby made of gingerbread, nor the very pleasant comforts of the rooms, or massive bed. It is the apples in the fruit bowl, which shone like jewels.

One friend in my group believed those apples to be coated in something, so glossy were they, but I knew that shine could be obtained by linen and elbow grease, and it just blew my mind that to provide several fresh polished apples in each room, they must have employed someone who perhaps did nothing but polish apples.

Sometimes when I am about to eat an apple, I grab a tea towel and polish it up and think about that night at the Dorchester.