Ritual culinary secret revealed

For years I have been told by people who have some experience in the matter that I make the best haroseth.  I have to make at least a half-gallon of it every year.

I have puzzled over why I apparently make the best haroseth and I have to make a half-gallon of it every year.

I have figured it out.  It is a matter of texture.

Here is what you do -- or rather, what I do:

I cut up some appropriately large number of tasty apples into little slivers.  They tend to be like wooden matchsticks chopped into eighths or so, but they are somewhat irregular. I do this with a slicing technique rather than a chopping technique because I find it less tiring.  This year it was six of those giant granny smiths because of circumstance.  I would have preferred a realler apple.  I squeezed three small Meyer lemons on them to keep them from browning.  Yes, three.

I mix this with an appropriately large amount of walnuts which are -- here is the secret -- grated in a rotary hand grater, so that they are small small flffy mealy flakes. This time it was about two thirds of a pound.  And a like amount of raisins, also run through the rotary hand grater, though you could chop them.

Then there is an appropriate amount of cinnamon and ginger, sometimes candied, sometimes fresh.  This time it was this weird fresh ginger I got that is extra juicy and a bit bland.  And a healthy splash of either the weird sweet Passover wine or what have you. This time it was what had I, which was plum wine from 2007, a very good year I made myself and it's high time I did it again.

And honey to taste.  This time it was a bit much, but I did say the best haroseth, not the perfect haroseth.