The plastic containers arranged in a grid all across the table, some lying in wait and some already filled with deep pink. The snap and hiss of the pots on the stove top, while the fruity steam from their contents condenses and drips. The warm, sweet smell of the house, as the KitchenAid hums and rocks slightly back and forth.

If you know, you know — it must be Applesauce Day.

It came a little later for us this year than usual, but it still came. Though I was used to lots of fruit processing days growing up on my family’s orchard in Ohio, applesauce is the only one done together with the Millers here in Kansas, and I always look forward to it. At least, mostly look forward to it, although the anticipation is always somewhat tempered by realistic questions. How long is it going to take, how messy is it going to be, are the kids going to be helpful or the opposite?

This year, however, went about as well as possible. Granted, it helps that we gather at Grandma’s house ... which means it’s her kitchen getting covered in apple seeds and sticky pink puddles, not mine. I’m not complaining.

Also, as it goes, applesauce needs have changed over the years. Whereas in years past we’ve worked up four or five bushels of shiny Jonathan apples, this year my mother-in-law only ordered two from Smith’s Market. She always gets Jonathan apples, and always from Smith’s, just like her mom before her always used to do. We know that my mom’s mom’s mom made applesauce too, but who knows how many generations back into both sides of our heritage this ritual goes.

I definitely remember making it as a kid, although we didn’t have this magical KitchenAid attachment.

My brothers and I cranked and cranked the handle of our manual Victorio strainer, around and around, watching the hot apples disappear down the chute and then reappear as oozing, aromatic applesauce. Mom says we used to make a hundred pints, or however much our trees gave us, and it was a mainstay on our supper table growing up. Since then, the trees have died, but my parents don’t eat applesauce anymore like they did with a young family anyway.

Applesauce eating habits have changed over the years in Brian’s family as well, hence the two-bushel day. Technically, this time could be called Applesauce Morning instead of Day, since Benson and I were home by just after noon, when everything but cleanup was essentially done. While I hated to miss cleaning up (teehee), my almost-terrible-twos son wasn’t letting his lack of words keep him from communicating that he needed lunch and a nap, sooner rather than later.

But what I love is that Benson gets to be a part of this family tradition. I was so excited to introduce the concept to him last year, and as a nine-month-old, he was very excited, too — excited to lick and nibble every single apple chunk within reach (which was a surprisingly high number). This year he only chomped on two apples that weren’t his, so that’s progress. He shrieked with glee many times while perched up on a step stool to watch the strainer work and to “help” scrape/fling the apple scraps as they came out.

Honestly, I barely eat the applesauce we make, but I still love it. I appreciate it vicariously through others: the strange way my husband uses it as a condiment, the enthusiastic way my son shovels it in, and the opening-up way all of our foster kids so far have thrilled at the taste of homemade applesauce. I personally, however, love the fact that we made it, together, and that it helps ground us in the taking-time, seasonal approach to preserving food. It brings sweetness to the table in so many ways.

This year, also, I love that I got the 10- and 12-year-old niece and nephew to be in charge of labeling the freezer boxes, the same ones my mom had me label for applesauce at that age. I gave them full creative license, as long as “2022” was on it somewhere, and they ran with it beautifully. They’re convinced we’re going to eat a lot more applesauce this year because we’ll be so excited to see what the next box label says (“monkey free applesauce 2022,” anyone?). They might be right.

Applesauce-icles

When I do eat applesauce, whether the gold color of my youth or the deep pink of my present, I prefer it still slightly frozen and slushy. Even in this cold weather, Benson loves to eat anything frozen, so I thought this would be the perfect snack for him. If you don’t have popsicle molds, you can always try freezing the applesauce in individual yogurt/small containers with a plastic spoon stuck down the middle.

Prep tips: you don’t have to use homemade applesauce for this, as the cinnamon amps up the flavor of store-bought sauce nicely.

1 ½ cups applesauce

½ tablespoon high-oil cinnamon

optional: other warm spices like ginger, nutmeg, or cloves

a pinch of salt

½ cup plain/vanilla yogurt

Mix the cinnamon, other spices as desired, and salt into the applesauce, then fill popsicle molds a little more than halfway. Top with the yogurt, and swirl together lightly. Freeze until solid, and serve as snack or dessert

Amanda Miller lives with her husband, almost-two-years-old son, and whoever else God brings them through foster care on the family dairy farm in Hutchinson. She enjoys doing some catering, teaching cooking classes, and freelancing, but mostly chasing after her kid(s). Reach her at hyperpeanutbutter@gmail.com.