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2
Oct
Last year before the neighbors cut down their apple trees (sigh), I went onto their property without asking (maybe that’s why), and picked up fallen apples, cut off the bad spots and made the most delicious applesauce I’d ever tried: just apples, fresh lemon juice, and a few gratings of fresh ginger. I came into some more apples and made it again, this time, I had run out of lemons and fresh ginger, so I used bottled lemon juice and dried ginger. Such a sad pot of applesauce.
As much as I had been looking forward this year to repeating that first applesauce I had made, I bought some nice plums at the farmer’s market and threw them in. At first I regretted it. When it was hot, the flavors were off with a strange aftertaste. I added a little honey with the lemon juice and ginger. I still wasn’t impressed, and resigned myself to being a purest. The next day when I pulled it out of the refrigerator though, it was changed: full of flavor, no unpleasant aftertaste. It actually tasted quite beautiful. The plums added an end-of-summer flavor that bridged the fall flavor of the apples. A very timely applesauce that made me realize there’s lots of room for improvisation with top-notch ingredients.
plum applesauce
I left the the plums unpeeled (they become tender), but you can peel them if you like. Cut an X across the bottom, and place in boiling water for 30-60 seconds. The peel should slip off.
5 lbs. cooking apples, peeled, cored, chopped
2 lbs. plums, peeled (optional), stones removed, chopped
honey or brown sugar, to taste
fresh lemon juice, to taste
fresh ginger, to taste
Put the apples and plums in a large pot and add an inch or two of water. Cook over medium heat until the fruit begins to break down, stirring and adding more water as needed. Turn the heat down to low, cover and simmer until the fruit is cooked through, mashing with the back of a spoon for a chunky texture, or putting in a food processor for a smooth texture. Add the ginger, and continue cooking five more minutes. Turn off the heat and let cool to room temperature. Add the honey and lemon juice to taste, refrigerate and serve chilled.
2 com
The nasturtium plants have taken over a portion our backyard, climbing their way onto our deck with hundreds of blooms and even more beautifully dark and circular leaves. We grew the nasturtium for the edible blossoms, but a month or so ago, I found out the leaves could be used like watercress. Sort of. They are deliciously peppery and tender -even the larger leaves- as such, but their shape is tricky to dress as a salad. When left whole or even torn, the flat shape creates too many layers to permeate, and shredding them didn’t make for a very attractive salad.
