So as I wrestle, my catharsis is food. Not in the sense of eating, but of making. I can see why Martha Stewart started out in the kitchen, while it can be tiring work, it is a rewarding, delicious and, to me, soothing process. This past Sunday, I revisited my childhood and tried my hand at a tradition we have in my family of making applesauce every August. Now, I have never attempted this feat with out the applesauce making pro who is my Mother, but I figured that I have done this enough times with her, that I should be able to succeed on my own. So, armed with the wisdom she passed down, I strapped on her trusted apron, pulled out the apple peeler/core-er (yes that is a word), canning pot, jars, lids and set my mind and hands to turning 20 lbs of apples into sweet and tangy applesauce. 4 hours later I found myself amidst a large mess, a warm bowl of fresh applesauce, and 8 perfectly sealed jars of my very own applesauce. Mission accomplished and catharsis achieved.
Apples vs. Jars who will win?
Looks like the jars did.
Aftermath of the apples meeting the apple pealer/core-er.
While waiting for my first batch I got distracted by my mom's beautiful garden.
Then back to the process...
Grind up the cooked apple mush, add the two other essential ingredients (sugar and cinnamon), bathe jars in a boiling hot bath, 20 minutes later you will have tasty applesauce to put in your pantry and save for those inevitable rainy days of winter, where a taste of summer goes a long ways.
Thank you Gravenstein apples for providing me an outlet to soothe a heart that is feeling a little weary.
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