Remember a year ago, gentle reader, when I wrote a ranty post about how I hated making applesauce and that applesauce was messy and pretty much that applesauce was the devil? And then I vowed I’d never buy bushels and bushels of apples to make applesauce ever again?
Yeah, well, I lied. I am a liar. My pants will probably burst into flame at any moment.
Homemade applesauce just tastes so much better. And it’s cheaper. And you can throw in strawberries to turn it into strawberry-applesauce, which is pretty much nectar of the gods, my friend.
Plus, I bought this handy-dandy machine that peels and cores the apple while I just turn a crank. This blessed contraption has cut my prep time down by 65% and I no longer feel like I am getting carpel tunnel in my hands.
Additionally this year, I discovered that having The X-Files on the t.v. makes the time just fly by. Best of all, because I’m busy peeling apples I don’t have to hide my eyes every time a scary part comes on. (Which, let’s face it, happens every seven minutes with that show.)
(Speaking of The X-Files, have you ever noticed that Agent Mulder sounds a whole lot like Agent Smolder? Yeah, I think that was deliberate.)
By the end of the night, I had canned twelve quarts of applesauce (six with strawberries), watched Dana Scully be threatened with bodily harm twice, while Agent Mulder concocted three crazy theories involving space aliens or black magic, and I shouted out advice to the television screen four times. (None of which was ever heeded, gentle reader. The death rate on t.v. would be so much lower if those fools would just listen to me once in a while.)
All in all it was a fabulous evening. Long live applesauce.