Canning October
44 years ago, I was convinced that I had the best of
all worlds. Almost every weekend, my
wife and I would drive up to her parent’s farm.
My wife got to visit with her mom, sister and grandmas and whatever
other relatives came around. I spent
Saturday mornings hunting upland birds, and in the evening I bow-hunted for whitetail
deer. My wife has accused me all these
44 years of marrying her because her family farm was near the Nicolet National
Forest, so it was a great base camp. I
have very consistently and honestly answered that charge by stating for the
record that I married her because she was beautiful, and because she was an
excellent cook; the fact that her parents lived very near my beloved hunting
and fishing grounds was purely icing on the cake.
It was a chilly, cloudy October Saturday morning of
our first year when my wife surprised me by totally upsetting my routine. Her eyes came up over her cup of coffee, and
looked directly at mine. She stated
quite matter-of-factly, “Today, you are not going hunting.” “I’m not?” “No. Today you’re driving me over to the apple
orchard and we are going to buy some apples and then we’re going to spend the
day making applesauce.”
I was caught twice by surprise. First, I was surprised that she seemed quite
serious and direct; she had left no room to wiggle or debate. It was a verbal checkmate especially since I
didn’t even know that the game had even begun.
Also, I had no idea that anyone actually made applesauce; applesauce was
something that you bought from the grocery store. At that point there was nothing else for me
to do than to drive us to the apple orchard; she who must be obeyed supplied the
directions. The orchard was almost an
hour away so I had plenty of time to think about all of the grouse I was
driving past as mile after mile of woods blurred by.
The owner of the orchard was a big man with a big
smile. When my wife explained that we
intended to make applesauce he took out a jackknife and cut two slices off of a
large apple. “Old fashioned Wolf River
apples, you won’t find a better sauce or baking apple anywhere”, he said
confidently. I nibbled tentatively at the slice of
apple that he handed me. It was firm,
tart and juicy. I popped the remainder
of the slice in my mouth. And so, we
left with our treasure of two large bags of apples.
Back at the farmhouse, Michelle’s grandma had already
brought over everything we needed – jars, lids, kettles and an applesauce
masher. Lest I try slipping out of the
house with my shotgun at this point, they immediately put me to work cutting up
the apples in chunks until we had two large kettles of apples simmering on the
stovetop. The house began to smell
wonderful.
Once the apples softened it was time to teach me how
to mash the apples in the cone-shaped sieve.
The apple juice and pulp squeezed through the tiny holes while the apple
skins and seeds remained inside the masher.
It all came together for me when there was enough
sauce to put back in the kettle so that a little sugar and some cinnamon could
be added. The sauce was brought back up
to heat so that the sugar could fully dissolve.
My wife took a spoon, scooped up some of the sauce, blew on it and then held
it out for me to taste. Oh my! I had no idea that real applesauce tasted so
good. This far surpassed any store brand
applesauce I had ever tasted. I was
totally won over. And every week during
that first winter together, when we opened another jar of that homemade
applesauce it convinced me again and again that the day I spent not hunting was
time well spent indeed.
It should come as no surprise then that when we bought
five acres and built our own house, that very first summer we planted our own
apple trees. The trees are an old-fashioned
Wolf River variety, and it has been quite prolific through the years.
Every October for 44 years now, one day is invested in
making applesauce. Our four children, our
three daughters-in-law, and our grandchildren have all learned how it is
possible to save a taste of October to savor and enjoy the whole year through. I look forward to it as a family tradition. Today once again, my wife took a spoonful of
the first batch, blew on it, and held it out for me to taste. Oh my!
“Then God said: Let the earth bring forth
vegetation: every kind of plant that bears seed and every kind of fruit tree on
earth that bears fruit with its seed in it. And so it happened: the earth brought forth vegetation: every kind of plant that
bears seed and every kind of fruit tree that bears fruit with its seed in it.
God saw that it was good.” Genesis 1:11-12
His Peace <><
Deacon Dan
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