By September again. The maples are starting their show — a few pioneer branches going orange, scouting the territory, letting the rest of the tree know it's safe to follow. The air is different: sharper, cleaner, carrying the faint smell of woodsmoke from someone up the road who's already lit their first fire. I haven't lit mine yet. I'm holding out. September fires are premature. October fires are proper. This is a hill I'm willing to die on.
I made apple butter. The Macs are coming in from our tree — bushels of them, more than we can eat, more than we can pie, more than we can sauce. Apple butter is the solution: peel, core, slice, cook with sugar and cinnamon and cloves and a splash of apple cider until it's thick and dark and spreadable, the consistency of velvet, the color of October. It takes all day. The house smells like autumn distilled.
Helen helped with the peeling. We sat on the porch with a paper bag between us and peeled apples the way we've peeled apples every September for thirty-seven years — her peeling in one long spiral, me peeling in chunks. She's faster. I'm more thorough. Between us, the apples get peeled. Marriage is two different approaches to the same apple, arriving at the same result, with only minor commentary about each other's technique.
The blog post this week was about apple butter, and the response was the biggest I've had — over forty comments. People love apple butter. They love the idea of it — standing at the stove all day, stirring, watching it darken, the house filling with the smell. Several people asked if they could use a slow cooker. Yes. But you lose the stirring, and the stirring is the point. The stirring is the meditation. The stirring is you, standing in your kitchen, paying attention to something that doesn't require your brain but does require your presence. That's worth something. That's worth the day.
Anna starts pre-K next week. David mentioned it on the phone, casually, the way you mention things that feel enormous. Anna is four. She is, by all reports, ready — opinionated, social, and in possession of a vocabulary that impresses teachers and alarms babysitters. She gets that from Karen. Or from Helen. Or from some lineage of articulate women that the Bergstrom men married into and were immediately outmatched by.
Apple butter in jars. Apples on the tree. September light. Anna starting school. Time moves. We move with it.
After a full day of stirring and watching and waiting for the apple butter to darken, you end up with more applesauce than you intended — the stuff that didn’t make it to the butter stage, or the overflow you set aside just in case. These muffins are what I do with it. Helen took three before they had fully cooled, which is, after thirty-seven years, the clearest compliment she knows how to give. I made a second batch to send home with David for Anna, who starts pre-K next week and deserves a proper autumn send-off.
Cinnamon and Sugar Dusted Applesauce Muffins
Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 20 minutes | Total Time: 35 minutes | Servings: 12 muffins
Ingredients
- 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
- 1 teaspoon baking soda
- 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
- 1/4 teaspoon salt
- 1 1/2 teaspoons ground cinnamon, divided
- 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
- 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
- 1 cup unsweetened applesauce (homemade or store-bought)
- 1/3 cup brown sugar, packed
- 1/4 cup granulated sugar, plus 2 tablespoons for topping
- 1/3 cup neutral oil (vegetable or canola)
- 1 large egg
- 1 teaspoon vanilla extract
- 1 tablespoon unsalted butter, melted (for topping)
Instructions
- Preheat and prep. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Line a standard 12-cup muffin tin with paper liners or grease well with butter or nonstick spray.
- Mix the dry ingredients. In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking soda, baking powder, salt, 1 teaspoon of the cinnamon, nutmeg, and cloves. Set aside.
- Mix the wet ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together the applesauce, brown sugar, granulated sugar, oil, egg, and vanilla until smooth and well combined.
- Combine. Pour the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients and stir with a rubber spatula until just combined. Do not overmix — a few streaks of flour are fine. The batter will be thick.
- Fill the tin. Divide the batter evenly among the 12 muffin cups, filling each about 3/4 full.
- Make the cinnamon sugar topping. Stir together the remaining 2 tablespoons granulated sugar and 1/2 teaspoon cinnamon in a small bowl. Brush the tops of the unbaked muffins lightly with melted butter, then sprinkle generously with the cinnamon sugar.
- Bake. Bake for 18 to 20 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and the tops are set and fragrant. Do not overbake — these are meant to be tender.
- Cool. Let muffins cool in the pan for 5 minutes, then transfer to a wire rack. Best eaten warm, but they keep well in an airtight container at room temperature for up to 3 days.
Nutrition (per serving)
Calories: 178 | Protein: 2g | Fat: 7g | Carbs: 27g | Fiber: 1g | Sodium: 148mg