Abundance (Applesauce)
“Three dozen apples,”
I requested from my husband as he and our friend headed to the farmer’s market to buy last-minute party supplies that needed to be fresh: salad greens, herbs, cider, and apples. I pictured a bowl of apples overflowing, and it was. Planning my husband’s birthday and our Hastings-on-Hudson housewarming, I hadn’t yet fully calibrated for the temperature difference between California and New York. In our San Carlos backyard, the afternoon sun beating down, a bowl full of crisp cool apples would go quickly. In the early dark and bracing chill of our new environment, the cider, warmed and offered spiked with whiskey, was a huge hit. The apples were left to find another purpose.
Applesauce. The gift of abundance transformed gracefully, like a comfy sweater extending the season of a summer sundress.
Applesauce for the neighbors who generously lent their furniture for the party. Applesauce for the couple in their 90s who live next door, who skipped the party but wished us well. Applesauce for my son whose appetite rarely strays from burgers, tacos, and pizza. Applesauce for myself, for breakfast and dessert and a snack in between.
The abundance boomeranged back to us. Our nonagenarian neighbor returned my jar with some cookies for my son. And my husband returned from the market with yet more apples.
Recipe as feeling: Abundance (Applesauce)
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Ingredients:
My wise friend recently offered that abundance is not just resources, but also time, space, and a feeling of belonging. This recipe calls for all of those ingredients.
Time: Pick a time when you feel spacious and give this recipe as much time as it takes. If you feel rushed, it’s not the right time.
Space: Choose a pot with a lid that can fit as many apples as you have.
Resources: If apples are not abundant in your life right now, choose something else to play with. For this recipe, you’ll also need butter, sugar, lemon, a cinnamon stick, salt, and some liquid (cider if you have it, water if you don’t), and containers to put the applesauce in.
Sense of belonging: Whether your sense of belonging is strong or if belonging sometimes eludes you -- maybe you’ve lost someone you love, or your community can feel fragile -- wrap yourself in the scent of cinnamon, the richness of butter, the earthy solid sweetness of apples -- and belong to this bowl and the ecosystems that carried it to you and the ones you’ll feed with it.
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Core and chop your apples.
Take as many apples as you have, and core and chop them into chunks. Leave the skin on.
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Add everything to a lidded pan.
Add the apples and a cinnamon stick, or two for a large pot. Dot with butter: A tablespoon or so for 5 apples (“small pot”), a stick for 3 dozen (“large pot”). Squeeze half a lemon (no seeds) and sprinkle sugar on top -- a small handful for a small pot and half a cup for a large one. Sprinkle a bit of your favorite salt in too. Add liquid -- cider if you have it, water if you don’t -- just enough so that the apples steam and don’t stick to the pan. Toss everything together, cover the pan with the lid and turn the heat low.
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Check the consistency.
When you can smell the apples cooking, take the lid off to check on them, turn them and smash them with a wooden spoon. If they’re still firm, replace the lid. If there is too much liquid, leave the lid off and let the liquid evaporate.
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Mash and serve warm.
When all the apples are cooked through and mashed to the consistency you like, they’re done. This might be 10 or 20 minutes for a small pot or 45 for a large one.
Serve warm with waffles, pork chops, or on its own.
Once cool, put in jars or containers to share, accompanied with the invitation to serve warm, because abundance tastes good that way.
Published December 3, 2021 on Facebook