Apple Butter

There is apple butter cooking in my kitchen. It fills our home with the scents of Fall -- nutmeg and cloves and Cortland apples. It reminds me of peeling apples the day before, Jack seated across from me, handing me large, purple-skinned fruit and sampling each one's white flesh. Three-year-old jibber-jabber broken by the snapping of apple between his teeth and flashes of sweet, brown-eyed smiles.  

It reminds me of apple pie-making on Tuesday. Jack's feet pounding quickly through the house as he hears the scraping of my flour jar's lid. He pulls a chair across the floor and is quickly at my elbow, sneaking pieces of pie dough and asking to help. He is soon rolling out his own disk of scraps, smiling broadly as he tells me he is making "pie." 

It reminds me of a day spent at the arboretum. Sunshine kissing our heads as we trek through leaf-littered fields, eyes alert for brightly-colored specimens to place in our basket. Yellow birch and brilliant maples. Nut-brown oaks and mottled sassafras. We stand on the bridge, cut stone arcing across leaf-dappled water. Jack perches on the edge and throws a small, yellow leaf with all his little-boy might. It dances crazily in the air before settling casually on the surface, landing not nearly far enough from where he threw it. We come home and assemble our collection into a leaf man, who fiercely guards the entrance to our fridge. 

It reminds me of going to the orchard. The hot sun causing us to sweat as we walk down the twisting dirt road to the row labeled Macoun. Emma sits in the grass, contemplating a nearby rotting apple while Jack reaches low and over to grab the biggest one he can find, dangling from a laden branch. He gently sets it into the waiting bag which Emma promptly knocks down, climbs astride and straddles under her chubby legs. Hungry from the effort, we make our way back to sit on the porch, eating our sandwiches and sharing a jug of orchard-made cider. We chug straight from the container between mouthfuls of sugar-sprinkled cider doughnuts. 

It reminds me of Autumn. 

Pumpkin Pie

"Pie is part of the family."

This is what my husband said when I asked him to describe the role of pie in my family. 

We cracked up laughing because it's so true. It would not be Thanksgiving or Christmas without many assortments of pie. It would not be my birthday without a strawberry pie. It would not be a trip home without a showing of one or two pies. 

How-To: Pumpkin Puree

I grew up on pie that started with an actual pumpkin. I remember, as a girl, watching my mom cut up a pumpkin, steam the skin off, cook it down and process it through a food mill. And only then came the actual pie making.

It instilled in me a love for pie made truly from scratch. I love the texture and flavor of pie made from a real pumpkin. Of course, it's a lot to do in one day. So now I make the puree on one day and then the pie on another. Or I freeze the pumpkin puree and store it up for a surprise pie in the winter. 

As with a lot of food processing, it may seem a little daunting. But the thing I like about it is that you do it in steps and the steps can be completed while you do other things during your day. The pumpkin steams while you are doing dishes, or eating lunch. And then it cools while your chasing your kids around or running to the store for a forgotten ingredient. Real food made while doing real life. 

Pumpkin Sheet Cake

I really enjoyed Halloween last year. My family didn't do much with the holiday growing up. We lived way out in the country and I only remember someone coming to the door for candy once! But last year was Jack's first Halloween, and one of our first in our new home. My sister was living with us at the time and she was really the impetus behind getting Jack dressed up. We decided on a lumberjack costume, dressing him up in a flannel shirt, carhartts, a beanie hat and an axe made out of a toilet paper tube and tin foil. And to complete the look, a scruffy little beard fashioned out of mascara on my sweet ten-month old's face. 

He was so cute. 

Pumpkin Bread

I remember the first time that I had this bread. I think I was about eight or nine years old. We went to a friend's house for dinner after church. It must have been late fall or early winter because I remember it being cold outside. We all sat down to eat dinner and I nervously eyed what lay on the table. I tend to be a picky eater and always dreaded going to someone's house because I was afraid that I wouldn't like what they served. And when you are eight, such things are very important. 

That's when I spied the pumpkin bread in the basket across from me. Ah, here was something I knew that I liked. I don't remember much about the rest of the meal. I'm sure it was all tasty stuff. But I do remember I ate a lot of that bread. I think the hostess noticed too because she gave me the recipe before I left and I've been making it ever since. 

Molasses Crinkles

There's nothing better than getting something in the mail from someone you love. Whether it's a letter, flowers to cheer a dreary day or a homemade treat when you're far away, it's nice to be remembered. 

This seemed to be especially true when I was in college. Package notifications always brought out expectant smiles and quickened my pace to the student center. 

Apple Crumble

The last few, dog days of summer always seem to be oppressive ones that suck your energy and sap your strength. Even the slightest tasks cause beads of sweat to break out on your forehead and cooking anything becomes border-line torture. I do not enjoy these days.

Pumpkin Muffins

This recipe has to be one of the easiest on the face of the planet. A can of pumpkin puree plus a box of spice cake mix will bring you the most delicious muffins you will ever taste. The ingredients are by no means gourmet, but none-the-less, satisfying.

Gingerbread

When most people hear the word "gingerbread" they probably think of little cinnamon-colored men, bedecked with red hots, frosting and sprinkles. They might also think of houses constructed of sturdy (or maybe not-so-sturdy), eatable walls that are carefully decorated with gumdrops and marshmallow men.

Spiced Pumpkin Cheesecake

When you find a truly amazing recipe, the second time you make it is filled with such anticipation. You wonder if that piece of heaven really was as good as you thought last time you made it. Maybe that first taste was colored by love-at-first-bite and you will be disappointed with your second attempt. You carefully follow the directions, trying to remember what worked well and what didn't the last time. You hover eagerly over the stove, waiting for the internal temperature of the cake to creep up to the perfect doneness. You agonize over taking it out of the oven, terrified of dropping it. And you doggedly wait and wait and wait for it to cool. Then there is the last breathtaking moment when your lips close around the fork and the creamy texture slides over your tongue. And you realize, yes.... yes, it is as good as you remembered.

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Cheesecake is an involved thing. And it takes a long time to prepare. I usually end up making this only once a year, in the fall. That being said, it tastes amazing. If you like to bake, this is a truly special recipe. 

Give yourself a long lead time when preparing this cake. I usually make it the day before so it can chill overnight. Expect 3 - 4 hours to prepare and bake it and then another 8 hours to fully chill it, about 12 hours all told. 

Apple Pie

Growing up, my younger sister, Lacey Beth, was the pie master. Apple pie, specifically. My mom taught her how to make it and she seemed to be able to magically manipulate the pie crust to do as she wished.

I remember the first time she made biscuits. My Grammy was at our house and she watched carefully as mom taught Lace how to make them. When the biscuits came out of the oven, Mom and Grammy declared that they were the best, fluffiest biscuits they had ever tasted. She just had the touch.

How-To: Applesauce or My Heritage

At the age of fourteen, I loudly declared that I hated to cook. My mom had been teaching me a few things about the art of cooking and I had made the family meatloaf recipe one too many times. Cooking meant work and that was something that my self-absorbed, teenage brain wasn't going to welcome with open arms.

Six years later, the summer Brad asked me to marry him, I realized that if I didn't learn to cook these family recipes, then I wasn't going to be eating them. My mom had spoiled me: pies with homemade crust, dill pickles in canning jars, strawberry jam, and yes, the family meatloaf. Mom goes all out for the family, even down to making salad and homemade crescent rolls to take on a family trip out west. If I didn't learn from her, then these family recipes would be gone forever.