Apple Compote — The Last Press Before the Deer Take the Drops

The foliage was beginning in earnest this third week of September, the maples on the ridge behind the house going orange at their tips the way they always do first, as if the color runs downhill from the high branches toward the valley floor over the course of the next few weeks. I have watched this happen for forty-some autumns from this property and it still stops me. I stood at the kitchen window with my coffee on Tuesday morning for a good ten minutes just watching the light hit the ridge.

Teddy called on Sunday evening with a question I had been waiting for him to ask. He had been reviewing his notes from the veal stock session last week and wanted to know the fundamental difference between chicken stock and veal stock — not the obvious answer about the animal, but the deeper answer about what each one does in a kitchen. I told him the honest version: chicken stock tastes of chicken, which is useful when you want to taste chicken, and veal stock has almost no flavor of its own, which is useful when you want to taste everything else. Veal gives you body and depth without direction. It follows wherever you point it. He went quiet for a moment and then said that was the most useful thing anyone had explained to him about cooking in two months of an intensive program. I think what he meant was that it was the kind of principle you could apply to things beyond stock, and he is not wrong about that.

The cider press ran again Saturday morning, the last of the Cortlands and Empires pressed before the deer get the drops. Ted came over with his son-in-law and we worked through four bushels in about three hours. The juice this time of year is darker and more complex than the first pressing back in August — the fruit has had more time to develop sugars and the cooler nights concentrate everything. I kept twelve gallons for drinking and hard cider and gave Ted four to take home for Patricia's household. She has been settled back in Vermont for about three weeks now and seems glad to be home. Ted looks ten years younger having her nearby.

The memorial garden is resting beautifully. The climbing rose set two new canes over the summer that will need training next spring. The peonies went dormant without complaint. The Japanese maple turned its full scarlet this week and I stood beside it for a while thinking about Helen and how she would have clipped a branch for a vase on the hall table. She always did that with the Japanese maple in October. Some years I do it myself and some years I just let the tree be its own thing outside. This year I brought a branch in.

After Ted and his son-in-law headed home with their four gallons of cider and the press was rinsed and put away, I found myself with a handful of bruised Cortlands that hadn’t made it into the hopper — too soft for pressing cleanly, but far too good to waste. Late-season apples have already done the slow work of concentrating their sugars through cool nights, and the honest thing to do with fruit like that is cook it simply and let it speak. This apple compote was on the stove within the hour, and it tasted exactly like what that Saturday morning felt like — unhurried, a little dark at the edges, and worth standing still for.

Apple Compote

Prep Time: 10 minutes | Cook Time: 25 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 6

Ingredients

• 4 medium apples (Cortland, Empire, or similar), peeled, cored, and cut into 3/4-inch chunks
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter
• 3 tablespoons light brown sugar, packed
• 1 tablespoon granulated sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 1/8 teaspoon ground cloves
• 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
• 1/4 cup apple cider or water
• 1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
• Pinch of kosher salt

Instructions

1. Melt the butter. In a medium heavy-bottomed saucepan, melt the butter over medium heat until it begins to foam, about 1 to 2 minutes. Do not let it brown.
2. Add apples and sugar. Add the apple chunks, brown sugar, and granulated sugar. Stir to coat evenly. Cook, stirring occasionally, for 5 minutes until the apples begin to soften and release their juices.
3. Season the compote. Add the cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and a pinch of salt. Stir well to distribute the spices throughout the apples.
4. Add liquid and simmer. Pour in the apple cider (or water) and the lemon juice. Stir to combine. Reduce heat to medium-low and simmer uncovered, stirring occasionally, for 15 to 18 minutes until the apples are very tender and the liquid has thickened into a light syrup. Some pieces will break down; others will hold their shape — both are good.
5. Finish with vanilla. Remove from heat and stir in the vanilla extract. Taste and adjust sweetness if needed. Allow to cool for at least 5 minutes before serving. The compote thickens further as it cools.
6. Serve or store. Serve warm over oatmeal, yogurt, pancakes, or simply on its own. Store covered in the refrigerator for up to one week. Reheat gently over low heat with a splash of cider if needed.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 118 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 6g | Carbs: 18g | Fiber: 2g | Sodium: 28mg