Slow Cooker Applesauce with Cranberries -- The First Food and the Last

Anna started pre-kindergarten on Wednesday. David called that evening with the report: she walked into the classroom, assessed the situation, selected the best crayon from the communal bin, and began drawing. She did not cry. She did not look back. She did not require comfort. She is four years old and has already mastered the art of walking into a room and acting like she belongs there, which is a skill most adults never learn and Anna was apparently born with.

I felt the vertigo again — the same thing I felt when Teddy started first grade. Time telescoping. Compressing. Anna was born four years ago. I held her in the hospital when she weighed seven pounds and now she's carrying a backpack that's bigger than she is and picking the best crayon and I'm sixty-four and wondering where the four years went, the same way I wondered where the six years went with Teddy, the same way I'll wonder about James and Ben and Lucy when their time comes. The grandchildren are growing. I am not getting used to it.

I made applesauce. Simple, unadorned, the kind my mother made: McIntosh apples from our tree, peeled and cored and cooked with a little water and sugar and cinnamon until they collapse into a soft, fragrant mush that is the first food I ever ate and the food I will probably eat last. You can mash it smooth or leave it chunky. I leave it chunky because that's how my mother made it and I see no reason to improve on a woman who was right about everything she cooked and most things she didn't.

The garden is closing. I pulled the last tomato vines this week — they'd given everything they had, and the frost warnings were coming. Green tomatoes on the windowsill, same as last year. Some will ripen. Some won't. The rest of the garden is bare except for the kale, which will survive until November because kale is the cockroach of the vegetable kingdom: indestructible, unattractive, and surprisingly useful.

Helen's flowers are still going. The daylilies are done, but the black-eyed Susans are in their glory — yellow and brown and sturdy, the last color in a landscape that's shifting from green to gold. She planted them four months ago. They look like they've been there forever. That's the thing about perennials. That's the thing about Vermont. You put something in the ground, and if it belongs there, it stays.

Applesauce in jars. Anna in pre-K. Flowers in bloom. September is the month of beginnings disguised as endings. Or maybe the reverse. I can never tell.

The applesauce I made this week was the stovetop kind—my mother’s kind—but the batch I keep coming back to when I want to fill more jars without standing over the stove is this slow cooker version, which does most of the work while you’re out pulling tomato vines or watching the black-eyed Susans nod in the wind. I added cranberries because September in Vermont demands a little tartness, a little color that says something is ending and something is starting and you might as well make it beautiful while you can. Anna picked the best crayon. I pick the best apples. We come from the same stock.

Slow Cooker Applesauce with Cranberries

Prep Time: 15 minutes | Cook Time: 4 hours | Total Time: 4 hours 15 minutes | Servings: 10

Ingredients

• 3 1/2 pounds McIntosh apples (or a mix of McIntosh and Cortland), peeled, cored, and roughly chopped
• 1 cup fresh or frozen cranberries
• 1/4 cup water
• 3 tablespoons granulated sugar (adjust to taste)
• 1 tablespoon light brown sugar, packed
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 1 teaspoon fresh lemon juice

Instructions

1. Load the slow cooker. Add the chopped apples and cranberries to a 4- to 6-quart slow cooker. Pour in the water and lemon juice, then sprinkle the granulated sugar, brown sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg over the top. Stir briefly to distribute.
2. Cook low and slow. Cover and cook on LOW for 4 hours, or on HIGH for 2 to 2 1/2 hours, until the apples are completely tender and beginning to collapse. Stir once halfway through if you’re around; if you’re not, it will be fine.
3. Mash to your preference. Use a potato masher or the back of a wooden spoon to break down the apples to your desired texture. Leave it chunky—the way it should be—or mash it smooth. The cranberry skins will have burst and stained everything a deep, honest pink.
4. Taste and adjust. Add more sugar a teaspoon at a time if your apples are especially tart, or a pinch more cinnamon if the day calls for it. Let cool for 20 minutes before tasting, as the sweetness and spice deepen as it cools.
5. Jar and store. Spoon into clean jars or airtight containers. Refrigerates well for up to 2 weeks. Freezes for up to 3 months. Makes roughly 4 cups—enough to line the windowsill and still have some to give away.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 82 | Protein: 0g | Fat: 0g | Carbs: 22g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 2mg