Have you ever driven past an apple orchard when it is in full bloom? Not only is it pretty and serene, it smells fresh and flowery. In the fall, when the apples are weighing the branches down, begging to be picked, you can once again enjoy the scent, but this time it makes your mouth water because you can almost taste the fresh warm applesauce or feel the juice running down your chin after a crunchy bite.
When I was young, we would get a peck of apples, wash them, cut them in quarters and put them, just like that, in a pot to cook. Not much water was added, just enough so the apples didn’t burn. Once they were cooked to the mushy stage, we would put ladles full in a cone shape colander then use a wooden thing that looked like a one handled rolling-pin with a blunt end (I don’t know its name) to force the sauce into another pot before we canned or froze it. This process removed all the skins, seeds and stems. The result was a pretty pink applesauce. No preservatives, maybe a tiny bit of sugar. It sure tasted good when we ate it warm while looking out at snow drifts.
I have had the good fortune to live near Lake Ontario in New York state and in Washington state along the Columbia Gorge where apple orchards are plentiful. It’s fun to drive past the orchards when the apples are ripe to see the green Granny Smiths, the reds of all types, and the Yellow Delicious. Stopping at a road side stand to buy apples is a must.