You can learn a lot about relationships by making applesauce. Find yourself some cooking apples like Bramley – no place is better for apples than England. You’ll need about five or six for a fat jar. It's okay if they are a little bruised; most things in life are when you meet them.
Next, wash and scrub the apples and get your chopping board out. Peel each apple carefully and slowly. Go too fast too soon and…OUCH! You may lose some of your apple, not to mention a lot of your finger.
Once peeled, cut them into quarters and core them. It doesn’t matter which you do first; but again, don’t rush this too much. Now cut them again into chunks and snuggle them inside a heavy saucepan. Squeeze the juice of half a lemon over them, put the lid on and turn the gas to low. That’s it. Let it go to work. After about 10 minutes, just give things a little stir, then put the lid back on and enjoy the sweet scent filling your house.
After another 25 minutes, come back and lift the lid. Voila! Applesauce. You didn’t need to mash it. You didn’t need to prod it. You could, if you like, dunk a cinnamon stick in it if you want to spice things up. Actually, that’s usually a good idea. But aren’t you glad you didn’t turn the heat up to speed things along? Look, it cooked. All by itself.
On the flipside, it’s also surprisingly easy to not pay enough attention to your applesauce. It will try to let you know, by bubbling up a fuss and making the lid go thwack. If you don’t get back in the kitchen with it and take it off the heat, then, before you know it, your applesauce has burnt out.
Somewhere between laissez-faire and micro management lies the perfect applesauce. Depends on the apples. Depends on you.
Sometimes you can save applesauce, and sometimes you can’t. If the applesauce isn’t completely burnt and you started with good apples, it’s worth trying to save it if you are willing to make the effort. Just leave the burnt bit on the bottom and go to town thinking of creative ways to put the remaining applesauce to good use. If, on the other hand, you can’t, put a Band-Aid on that finger. If you happen to run into a nice new batch of Bramleys, bring them home. Remember what went right before and also what didn’t. Roll your sleeves up again. Make some applesauce. Then savour it, slowly.
I always wondered the correct way to make applesauce. I usually put in lots of sugar and turn up the heat quite high - clearly am afraid of the natural apple flavour...
Another beautifully composed culinary posting - methinks you are a far better in the kitchen than you give yourself credit for!
Posted by: sally | 21 February 2007 at 11:11 PM
England has some great apples, but they don't seem to have any of the good, old-fashioned Macintosh variety.
Posted by: Natalia | 22 February 2007 at 09:07 PM
Thank you, Sally. Still oh so much to learn.
It's true, Natalia. I wonder how you are finding your apples these days?
Posted by: Jess | 23 February 2007 at 05:21 PM
Well, to be honest, Jess, its all a bit of a mess. I haven't exactly burnt my applesauce(s) but they are not coming out as sweet and fabulous as the recipe should predict. What am I doing wrong? Is it me? Or is it the type of apple? And, while we are on the subject, is your applesauce coming out edible and delicious?
Posted by: Natalia | 25 February 2007 at 06:46 PM
I can sympathize, Natalia. I'd like to think it's simply a question of season. Sometimes it's okay to blame it on the rain...or lack of.
Posted by: Jess | 06 March 2007 at 10:15 PM