I went apple picking yesterday – 1/2 bushel of cortlands and 1/2 bushel of macs. This afternoon I made a HUGE apple pie for John. I remember when we first got married I threw away about 6 pie crusts before I could actually get one to stay together and go in the pan. I knew I needed to learn to make apple pies because he was always talking about his mom’s pies. I have come a LONG way since those days (31 years of practice) and he now says I have 99% mastered his mom’s apple pie.
While the pie was baking I began preping apples to make applesauce. When John and I first got married we lived in an apartment that was a converted motel room…small. I decided I would make sure he had something made of apple in the house at all times, so I went apple picking and came back to make applesauce. I had never made and canned applesauce, but I had made stewed apples and fried apples with my Grandma Isma and my mom. I peeled, cored and cut apples with a small paring knife. I had a large pot that I cooked down several batches of apples and added sugar and cinnamon when they were almost done. I washed and then used the same pot to water bath a few jars at a time. I was really clueless as to what I was doing, but I knew if I heard the “pop” the applesauce would be fine. The 12 jars a made were stored in a box under our kitchen table. We had wonderful applesauce all winter and my sister still talks about the applesauce I made that fall. I have come a LONG way in the applesauce department too. I have an apple peeler, corer, slicer. I have a HUGE non-stick pot, an immersion blender, a dishwasher for sterilizing jars and a pressure canner to assure I hear the “pop”. With the 1/2 bushel of macs I made John’s pie and got 4 quarts (minus the bowl I ate) of applesauce. I will turn the 1/2 bushel of cortlands into applesauce too. THEN, I’ll go apple picking again so I can have my favorite apple crisp and use the wonderful recipe I got from my friend, Kristin Brown, last year. It is the BEST I have ever had.
I will have to admit I have a lot of memories that have food in them. I guess that is because my Grandma Isma and my mom did a lot of cooking and I love to cook. It is joy, not a task for me. I have made lots of memories with John and the girls while we were cooking and baking. Those would be called delicious memories. Why don’t you go stir up some memories in your kitchen this week.