Making Applesauce

I’m a bit old-fashioned for my generation in that not only do I enjoy gardening, both flowers and vegetables, but I take it a step further by canning and freezing anything I can get my hands on.  Usually come mid-July, once the green beans start coming on and the apricots arrive, my kitchen is overflowing with produce and the aromas of boiling water and food preservation.  This process goes on through September as various fruits and vegetables are ready.  The whole effort is exhausting and at the end, there is not anything more satisfying than looking across those brightly colored jars in your pantry and knowing you did it all.  You are feeding your family the best food that they can get, because it is usually organic and free of preservatives.  I’ve been doing this since I was a child, early on with the assistance of my talented grandmothers and my mother, and now as an adult I’ve branched out on my own.  After nearly 12 years, Peter still makes fun of me when I pull out a fresh jar of salsa and say, “You know, I made this.”  I get the “Yeah, yeah, just hand me the chips” look.

Two years ago, when Samuel was about two and a half and Ethan was one and a half, I managed to put away quite a shocking amount of goods.  Last year, I did nothing in the preservation department as I was flat on my side hoping to keep two babies locked up tight for a few more weeks to avoid NICU.  This year I had high aspirations to get something done, and it has been comedic.

On our one acre of land, we have two apple trees.  Last week, it was time to pick the apples from the largest apple tree.  Not only were the apples finally changing to that lovely crimson on the sunny side of the tree, but the bees were literally starting to chew apples down to the core and the deer were leaving behind extensive evidence that the apples were prime.  Every year, since we’ve lived in this house, I’ve split my apples with my friend Vicki.  So she came with her baskets and children, and I was with my baskets and children, and we started picking apples.

During this time, Jocelyn and Nina tried to eat deer droppings, not once but at least fifty times before we found a poo-free radius.  Nina sat in the wagon at one point, then Samuel walked by, accidently stepped on the wagon handle and flipped Nina out, head first.  Imagine how that turned out.  It was 94 degrees, so the four boys had nothing to say except, “Mom, I’m hot and thirsty.”  I did the responsible thing and grabbed piles of popsicles and ice water and started the sprinkler for them to run through, which they chose not to do.  We even encouraged them to visit the inside of the house, where it was nicely air-conditioned, but they wanted to participate in the apple picking.  Why?  Because they are boys and there was a tree and ladders involved.  Nina and Jocleyn started crying out of frustration and heat until they discovered they could suck water into their mouths from their sippy cups and launch it out onto themselves which turned into a soothing and amusing game.  Eventually our boys gave up and went inside and Vicki and I took turns carrying babies around the yard, full of apples and water, while the other finished picking.

Late that afternoon, I was feeling ambitious and thought I’d get started on the slicing and dicing.  As soon as I was in the middle of it, Nina and Jocelyn became bored with their toys and started dumping apples out of the basket onto the floor.  Before each toss, they would take little bites out of each apple.  Not knowing when I’d get to all of the apples, I ended this game because I didn’t want a bucket of bruised, slimed apples to deal with later in the week.  I plopped their little tushies on the counter, with the big pot between them.  At first they would each take an apple out of the pot and take a bite, throw it back, and choose another one.  Pretty soon, they discover a great game.  They begin tossing the apples onto the floor, laughing at each kerplop, and then both saying “UH-OH.”  Thinking, “Fine, I’m cooking them and still have to rinse them,” I continue chopping and slicing and let apples fall.  Then the “duh moment” hits me.  Every time they drop an apple it has a little “splat” leaving the floor a sticky mess and my bare feet are just about stuck in place from the fifteen or so apple slices littering my floor.  At this point, I’m up to my elbows in babies and apples and I’m so close to filling the pot for the first batch of applesauce, I just close my eyes and cringe.  Then I join in the “Uh-Oh!” and cringe with them, because it really is pretty fun and very cute.

Shortly after the pot of apples reached boiling point, I remember that just last year Vicki gave me a brand-spanking-new, all-in-one apple peeler, corer and slicer.  I hadn’t even tried it out yet!  I took this baby out of the package, and for a canning mama, this was like sliding your hands down a sleek new weapon.   I attached it to the counter and starting turning the crank.  Holey Moley.  I’ve never peeled apples so fast.  I discover I can peel, core and slice 10 apples in 4 minutes (that’s fast folks), which fills one quart freezer bag.  This is exciting.  I holler, “Samuel!  Ethan!  Come check out mommy’s new toy!”  They run into the kitchen and after watching it, I can just see delight in their eyes and imagine whistles coming out of their little mouths.  “I want to try it!” they say.

Those boys took turns destroying apples for nearly two hours.  And it turned into a gruesome adventure as I’d listen to them say things like, “No!  Don’t take my skin!  I’m an apple!  An apple!  I won’t be an apple without my skin!  Ugg!  You took my guts too!  Now I’m a dead apple!  You killed me! ” Aside from the grotesque images created during the great apple annihilation, it was highly entertaining.  And did I tell you how fast it worked?  I reported to Peter that I think we need to invest in three more of them.  That way, when Nina and Jocelyn get older, we can have an assembly line of little peelers right down the counter. Just think how many apples we could put away?

In the end we finished one basket of apples and had two more to go.  We’d managed apples with cinnamon on the dehydrator, six packages of frozen apples in the freezer, and a batch of applesauce on the burner.  Then the fun was done and things went downhill from there.  Nina and Jocelyn were ready for bottles and a nap, it was time to cook dinner, and I wouldn’t let the boys peel any more apples because we had piles of apples going one place or another.  It was cleanup time, but between the bottles for the babies, and dinner, the mess sat and sat.  I managed to clean up about half of it that night and get the applesauce in the containers and put away.  But Peter finished scrubbing all the pots the next day.  I love that man.

We’ve already broken into two packages of the frozen, sliced apples and made scrumptious apple crisp for dessert one evening.  I’ve also been peeling apples here and there and tossing them in the dehydrator, but I think I’ve given up on the applesauce endeavor this year.  After all, Mott’s makes a perfectly good applesauce.  In the end, I broke down and gave lots more apples away and probably won’t be hauling home truckloads of produce this year.  And you know what?  I didn’t even feel defeated.