The Can-Can Apple Dance

There are apples all over my kitchen counter.

There is also a bowl of long, stringy apple peel pieces in a bowl for the compost. All I can smell in my house is the slightly sweet fermentation of apples. I may go bananas from it.


It is officially Autumn in my kingdom. And this means we can, can, can! This is a slow trudge towards full shelves for the winter, with lots of yummy treats to enjoy when we are hibernating behind snowbanks six feet tall. I imagine sometimes that we are squirrels packing a tree trunk full of nuts to make do until Spring. Like Hammy from Over The Hedge. Have you seen my nuts?

Except that we aren’t furry… or hyperactive… or herbivores, or… Errr yeah… Where was I?

As part of our Fall hoarding, we make the sojourn to buy apples in apple country, bring them home, and spend the next three weeks up to our armpits in what-can-we-make-with-apples brains. It’s very entertaining, much like when the Zucchini plant is in full production. I am tempted, during Zucchini season, to leave our proliferation on doorsteps of neighbours, ring the doorbells, and run.

But that would make us a few loaves short in the Zucchini bread basket, now wouldn’t it? I can hear it now… “It was a squash and run officer!”, “Hey Ethel, either this is a zucchini on our doorstep, or the neighbours dog has a very strange disease!”.

Oh dear. I’ve gone fruity…. yeah.

With apples, though, when we are finished putting away the requisite applesauce and such, we look at what is left (we always seem to have apples left) and come up with crazy stuff. Last year it was Green Tomato and Apple Chutney.

Don’t even get me started on how that turned out.

This year we are storing pies to freeze, applesauce (both sweetened and unsweetened), and some hot-pack apple chunks. I wish there was another way to preserve fruit except in sugar syrup, but without a pressure canner, that is what you have to do. I suppose it is better knowing that you know how much sugar there is in your mixture, rather than trusting the canneries, which have all moved to Mexico or China.

I am looking at the huge pile of apples left to do, and resigning myself to a few days of tag-team apple preserving and baby-rearing. Its a dance, tapping back and forth between the kitchen and the living room. I think I’ll call it the Can-Can Apple Dance. The steps are thus:

Set-up-kitchen for apples-put-on-Baby-Einstien-DVD-peel-more-apples-replace-soother-peel-more-apples-reset-DVD-peel-more-apples-calm crying-baby-give-up-peeling-apples.

Or something like that.


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