The Wonder of Applesauce

There were those dog days of summer in late August when my younger brother and I were trying to put the thought of going back to school out of our minds.  School began in September the day after Labor Day– sometimes I wish we could go back to those days.

So I have fond memories of sweat pouring off my brow as we picked up the fallen apples under Grandma Cannon’s apple tree.  She always complained that they were small and puny but in the end she made the most wonder desserts from those apples.  We would carry in those apples straight to her kitchen sink.  She had a water bath waiting for them.  Our job was to keep bringing in those apples while she washed away the dirt and bits of grass before putting them in a dishpan filled with water to await cutting off the areas where a bird or a squirrel enjoyed a tasty sweet treat.

She sat at her kitchen table and peeled each apple.  Now our job was to feed the peels to the pet parrot, Polly.  Maybe it wasn’t a job per say but it was pure entertainment watching that old bird tear away at the apple skin.  Next she would cut as much flesh off those apple cores.  She didn’t have the fancy gadget I have in my kitchen drawer.  She would of course be listening to the radio the entire time she was in the kitchen.  If memory serves me right it was KARN news.  And of course her favorite was Paul Harvey.

She would put the diced apples in a big pot and added just enough water and lemon juice to do the trick.  Of course she added brown sugar and cinnamon.  But her secret was allspice.  She added just a bit of it and would tell me how much she hated nutmeg.  Nutmeg doesn’t belong in her kitchen.  Then we would let the heat of the burner do its job as we waited.

 

Oh the house would smell like something wonderful–some might say Christmas.  For me it was the best anticipation of the season.  Fresh Applesauce.

 

I can still see the white Corningware bowl sitting in the middle of her kitchen resting on a trivet.  The steam drifting upward carrying the sweet apple cinnamon aroma into the kitchen air while that applesauce cooled.  Grandma never used a blender.  She used a potato masher so her applesauce was filled with chunky apple bits.  My kids balk at a chunk.  Praise God for blenders!!

Fix your thoughts on what is true, and honorable, and right, and pure, and lovely, and admirable. Think about things that are excellent and worthy of praise.  Philippians 4:8

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