A short post this morning, gentle readers. This past week has mostly been a waste of clock juice with the pain and dizziness I’ve experienced from taking it on the chin a week ago. Yesterday was the worst. Exiting down a side aisle right after we’d sung the anthem, I scrawled a laconic note — Too many drugs, not enough breakfast. Gone home. — on the choir room blackboard and left.
I am happy to report, however, that last night the unbearable (yes I’m a wimp) swelling finally abated. So let’s get out of the sick room and into the breakfast room!
A few weeks back, having finished some Willa Cather stories about Nebraska homesteaders, I decided to take some “handwork” with me for my weekly visit to Merrilee. Said handwork consisted of twenty-five pounds of apples, which the two of us prepared while we blethered on for two hours before proceeding to the piano room.
Once home again, the quartered apples filled my big stockpot to the level you see in the first photo.
But not for long. After a few hours they were reduced to three litres, half of which I placed in a deep bowl and smoothed with the stick blender.
When I mixed the two textures together, the Apple butter had just the consistency I was looking for. Adding ground cinnamon, cloves, and cardamom, along with a dash of salt and one cup of sugar, I scraped it into a three-litre pot and set it in the fridge till the next day when I heated it up and canned it.
A spoonful of apple butter on a bowl of plain yogurt is a luscious thing, especially when chewing is not on the menu.