The Fruits of Last Year's Labor

A few weeks ago, in an attempt to round out Auric's meal of banana mixed with yogurt, I went to the fridge to pull out a jar of applesauce. We usually go through applesauce pretty regularly in our house, since Sean makes a weekly batch of his soon-to-be-famous homemade powerbars*. However, we'd been gone a lot in the previous weeks and it was clear that the opened jar of store-bought applesauce was passed its prime. And so I looked in the direction of our pantry, wherein lurked the seven jars of applesauce that I'd made from an apple-picking outing with Thora and a 3 week-old Auric. While I was pleased with the initial result after I completed the home canning process, I'd been hesitant to determine my real success by opening a jar. I just kept putting it off. And mostly, it has to do with our pantry cupboard.

Just a day before Auric was born, we had a "superpantry" put in. This is one of those tall cupboards with internal shelving on hinges that allow the shelves to swivel out of the way to reveal more small shelving along the back wall. Anyway, I was so excited about this new addition to our kitchen that that night I went into pre-term labor almost 6 weeks early. (Kidding of course, but now that I've written it, I think that this will be my explanation whenever anyone asks me why Auric was premature: "Well, it's because we got this super pantry. The new organizational opportunities were pretty staggering.")

The problem was that it sits on top of a portion of our base board heaters. And with the doors closed, it collects heat inside whenever the heat is on. It was never cooking food in there, I don't think. But being a novice home-canner, my limited knowledge and zero experience told me that the food needs to be kept at room temperature or below (like in a basement, for example), not in the warmest part of the house.

But on this recent day, I was forced to face the possible disappointment. I pulled out a jar, unscrewed the band, and with a surprising amount of muscle finally pried up the lid. And inside... was... the most delicious applesauce I'd ever had. And I was immediately taken back to the memory of my first solo outing with the two kids. The air was cool and crisp. My blood flowed with optimism and sleep-deprived adrenaline. Things were so new and rich and vivid-seeming then. I was on my own with both kids and that had a surreal feeling to it. I was a mom of two. Our lives were so different now. The seasons were changing and each day, each outing felt laden with discovery and challenge. ("Is the baby warm enough? When will he need to be nursed again, and can I keep Thora occupied at the same time? Will I remember to put Auric in the car if Thora is throwing a tantrum in a parking lot?") I remember, with Sean's help, collapsing the double-stroller and wedging it into our trunk just as rain drops fell from the sky. I looked at him. The kids were in their car seats, we were packed and ready, Thora and I, to a lesser degree, were happily anticipating this activity. I didn't want to give up now but also didn't want set out on this adventure amidst certain failure. An hour drive to pick apples in the rain? I let out an exasperated laugh. But often, sprinkling rain in New England fades away just as you change your plans. This is what I was hoping for. And so I didn't change our plans. I drove to Shelburne Farm in Stow, MA, got the kids around the small orchard, and picked a ridiculous quantity of apples.




And then, after filling our half-bushel (20 lbs.) bag, we rewarded ourselves with apple cider doughnuts. We got home and showed Sean our loot. And we were eating baked apple and apple brown betty like crazy and loving it. And then I made applesauce. I think now about the effort and/or babysitting it would take to preserve some fruit or vegetables in jars. With Auric at 10 months old, he wants to be a part of things so much more. I couldn't hole up in the kitchen for an hour or so. (He's a very accommodating kid, but not that accommodating.) I do hope I can finagle an hour or two to do that this year. But back in October of 2009, my newborn boy slept all the time. Granted, I was up a lot in the night. But I had seemingly endless freedom during the day. That's what I remembered while tasting this applesauce: stirring the apples, steam rising out of the pots on the stove (the apple pot, the lid-warming pot, the canning pot); the prospect of all sorts of visits from family and friends; the approaching Halloween festivities; the optimism of our new life as a family of four. And a little baby, asleep on the floor in his car seat. Like this.


*more later about Sean's powerbars. They merit their own post.