S. and I made a trip out to the orchard last weekend, and as is always the case when I'm presented with a vast expanse of store-able foodstuffs, a primordial urge to hoard overtook me. I wanted every single apple on every single tree to be only for me. Happily S. was along to reassure me that four bushels would be quite enough apples for two people. For the past week, I've been processing apples every spare minute, and wishing I was processing apples every not-spare moment, but I think I have finally succeeded at getting them all "put up" for the winter. Final count: 11 pints of applesauce, 6 pints of apple butter, lots of dried apple rings, many strips of apple-strawberry fruit roll-ups, a freezer full of apple wedges (for Dutch apple pancakes and apple crisp this winter), and a half-bushel of Ida Reds still in the basement for eating up the normal way.
We headed home in S.'s pickup; the jump seats behind us piled with a winter's worth of apples. When we parked, I hopped out to claim my prizes - ripping open the back door a tad too hastily. After many bends in the road, potholes and bumps that are the stuff of Pittsburgh driving, my precious cargo had shifted. Right up against the door as it turns out. I stood there dumbly as the top bag fell toward me, spilling a multicolored waterfall of apples down my chest, bumping off the floorboards and my knees to the driveway. As the first bag emptied, it changed the balance of the bag below it, which slowly tipped itself, adding to the river of apples cruising down the driveway and into the street. Apples landed in gutters, came to rest behind the rear wheels of street-parked cars and met their demise beneath the tires of passing vehicles. I'd like to say that I was horrified and hastily tried to prevent the disaster, but my little brain didn't work that fast. I just stood there frozen, furiously trying to comprehend what all these red and yellow stimuli moving so quickly could possibly mean. It ended, not by any intervention on my part, but because every single apple on my side of the truck was now in the street.
So I made applesauce, which had been part of plan all along. The bruises were trimmed and fed to the compost, and the rest transformed to a tasty mush.
I won't insult anyone's intelligence by posting an applesauce recipe, but I am fond of an old-fashioned candy made from applesauce. It's an extra chewy, apple morsel with crunchy pecans and strong notes of caramel. The flavor has a lot of complexity, and I've even come around to how hard you have to work to get at it. These guys are really chewy. I just finished eating three in a row and now, when I pay attention, I can feel a dull ache in my jaw from the effort. No matter.
The Best of Shaker Cooking, Miller & Fuller
Note: These candies can slip toward cloying. To remedy, I add a teaspoon of fresh lemon juice and a small pinch of salt along with the vanilla after the candy is removed from the heat. Both are optional.
1 1/4 cup unsweetened applesauce
2 tablespoons unflavored gelatin
2 cups sugar
1 cup walnuts, pecans or butternuts
1 tablespoon vanilla
Confectioners' sugar
Strain applesauce - either force applesauce through a fine-meshed strainer (traditional) or process in a food processor until very smooth. Whisk gelatin into 1/2 cup applesauce. Allow mixture to sit at least 10 minutes while gelatin softens. Meanwhile, combine remaining 3/4 cup applesauce with sugar and bring to a boil over medium heat. Allow to boil 10 minutes. Whisk gelatin mixture into hot applesauce and simmer 15 additional minutes, whisking constantly. Remove from heat; stir in nuts and vanilla. Pour into a generously buttered 9x9 pan and allow to cool completely (several hours or overnight). Turn candy out of pan and cut into small, 1/2 inch squares. Roll in sifted confectioner's sugar. Wrap individually in wax paper if desired.
Sourcing: Homemade applesauce, Knox unflavored gelatin, Whole Foods 365 organic cane sugar, Penzey's vanilla extract, and Whole Foods 365 organic confectioners' sugar
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