Showing posts with label food. Show all posts
Showing posts with label food. Show all posts

My Circular Economy of Apples

Every apple recipe I made last year—and that's a long list—started out with fresh apples to which I applied some labor. Peel, yes or no depending on the recipe. Core, yes or no depending on the recipe. Slice, dice, or shred. Cook with spices. Discard something.

Bear in mind that my parents grew up during the Depression and raised me to be thrifty. I minimize my food waste as much as possible. What there is of it goes into the garden beds in the central composting square. I use the keyhole gardening technique, AKA dump food scraps into a space in the middle of the raised bed, let Mother Nature and Father Time do their thing. (My raised beds are rectangular, built by my Sweet Hubs from a kit, rather than the round shape most often illustrated. Compost happens either way.)

But why compost before you've gotten every last possible bit of use? Although there's such a thing as taking it a bit too far. I present my lessons learned for your entertainment and possible benefit.

A typical two-day cycle starts with the apples I glean from various roadside trees and pick up when a neighbor leaves a bag by the curb. (So really, it's a three-day cycle. Day one, collect apples.)


First, I use my handy-dandy apple corer without peeling and prep 8 lbs. of sliced apples to freeze for later use in apple-pear butter, or possibly this Apple Caramel Sauce from Food in Jars, which sounds scrumptious (recipe can be made using other fruits too!).

Put all the cores in a bag. Plenty of apple-ness left there that can be rendered into juice.

Use the apple corer with the peeler setting to slice another 4 pounds of apples, then dice those up to macerate overnight with sugar for Apple Cardamom Rosewater Jam. Throw the peels in the bag with the core; they carry pectin that will help the juice jell.


Simmer those cores and peels until soft with some ginger in preparation for Apple Ginger Jelly. I made this one last year and it's going on annual repeat. Set that up to drain overnight.

The next morning, discover that the apple juice is maybe a trifle bland. I really should have gotten fresh gingerroot, not just used the ginger paste from a tube that I had in the fridge. Okay, I can fix this, I still have pounds and pounds of apples. Quarter a bunch of the smaller ones and throw into the strained juice so it will reduce and pick up more appley goodness. Add more ginger paste. (Really should have biked to the store.) 

Update on Apple Ginger Jelly: Sweet Hubs ended up running to the store and getting gingerroot. Sliced that up (the recipe calls for 3 oz. to go with 2 lbs. apples, and I had 3 lbs.) and simmered it in with the apples. Makes all the difference!

In the meantime, use my food mill to smoosh the cores and peels and squeeze out every bit of apple pulp I can. I figured I'd throw that into the future apple-pear butter, but hey, that looks a lot like applesauce! Granted, these apples have already given up some (most) of their flavor. Here comes the Maple Applesauce recipe from Food in Jars to the rescue, with its cinnamon sticks and maple for some extra flavor oomph.

But wait, those apples I added to the juice are also going to be nice and soft. Slow my roll on the applesauce plan until I can get those smooshed up too. Ideally they would drain for 6-8 hours per the recipe, but y'know, it's okay if some of the juice goes into the applesauce.

After tasting the apple mush, though, I decide it really has lost almost all its flavor. Even the addition of the apples that had more flesh and a tablespoon of lemon juice didn't really fix it.

At that point I have a few options: Blend up some blackberries with the bland applesauce and make fruit leather. Freeze this stuff in a muffin tin, which makes handy half-cup quantities, and save it to bake into future muffins and breads, recognizing they'll need more spice. Bake a batch of muffins or bread right now, for that matter. Or head into a fresh batch of applesauce with whole apples that I can mix this into and resist the urge to restart this whole circular economy again.

I do have an entire bike pannier full of apples still to process.... 

Clearly Indian Apple Chutney lies ahead. I made that last year and it tasted fantastic with some Cougar Gold aged white cheddar on a cracker. But not today. Chutney takes a while to cook and I have apple mush to deal with. That muffin tin of apple mush for the freezer sounds like the easiest way to go. I just have to label it with honesty: "Bland Applesauce 2025".

Recipes in this post

  • Apple Caramel Sauce
  • Apple Cardamom Rosewater Jam: Flavor notes to read before you make this! 
    • She says to cook 40 minutes minimum, longer for deeper color. I probably cooked twice as long to get it to a consistency that looked like jam and yet still had some apple bits. Cook for the texture you want in your jam.
    • She calls for 5 cardamom pods. I used 8 pods and it was so subtle I couldn't taste it, but my pods were a bit old. Ended up adding something like 3/4 t. ground cardamom. Definitely a taste and adjust seasoning.
    • She calls for 1 T. rosewater or "a splash". I appreciate subtle rosewater, but too much and it will taste like hand lotion for me. I started with 1/2 t., stirred in, let it cook a minute, tasted. Did this until I was at 1-1/2 t. rosewater, so half what she called for. Most definitely a taste and adjust seasoning.
  • Apple Ginger Jelly: I didn't have fresh ginger root on hand (gasp!) so I used the ginger paste in a tube I find so, so handy. That really didn't cut it and I had to do make some amendments (add more apples and cook down more juice with gingerroot). Get fresh gingerroot.
  • Maple Applesauce
  • Indian Apple Chutney
Related reading

Making Taybarb: Tayberry Rhubarb Jam Recipe

In last year's "canstravaganza" I made strawberry rhubarb jam, courtesy of the abundance in my garden, along with raspberry jam and tayberry jam. I pruned the tayberry and raspberry bushes for the first time this winter and they rewarded me with an explosion of berries this summer. Since I could see that coming, I ate the strawberries fresh as I picked each day's batch and stashed rhubarb and the berries for a combination to be decided later.

Tayberries have a wonderful floral sweetness that really comes out when they're cooked. I thought that would balance the rhubarb well. I did a bit of exploring for sample recipes involving tayberries and rhubarb and couldn't find one with that exact combination. Time to develop my own, with my usual research on fruit:sugar ratios and other elements. Since tayberries are a cross between blackberries and raspberries I started with recipes for blackberries, then looked at other berry/rhubarb and tayberry/something combinations, bearing in mind that rhubarb is tart and other berries vary in sweetness. Food in Jars, my go-to, commented that a 1:1 ratio could work fine in a strawberry rhubarb recipe.

I hoped to avoid using pectin so the jam wouldn't end up too solid and jelled. I've overshot before on this and I want spreadable jam, not rubberized fruit you can stand a spoon in. I've also had trouble reaching the jelling temperature at times and have added a bit of pectin late in the process with success. According to one recipe I read blackberries have more pectin than their red cousins. Tayberries are purple when they're ripe so I'm treating them like blackberries.


My sources:

  • Low-Sugar Blackberry Rhubarb Jam with low-sugar pectin, Food in Jars. Blackberries:rhubarb 1.5:1 by weight. Fruit:sugar not provided in consistent measurements; 2.5 pounds fruit:1.5 cups sugar.
  • Blueberry Rhubarb Jam with pectin, Food in Jars: Blueberries:rhubarb:sugar 1:1:1 by weight.
  • Tayberry Lemon Jam, no pectin, Anchored Baking: Tayberries:sugar 2:1. 
    • This one is worth reading for its great photo series illustrating the various stages of jam testing with a chilled plate. It takes a different approach than the usual "run your finger through, look for the wrinkle" technique. Instead you put the jam on the plate, chill it in the freezer for four minutes, and observe what it does when you tilt the plate up. If the jam stays as a blob and slides down the plate without a bunch of juice separating out, it's jam.
  • Tayberry Jam, Little Berry Blog, no pectin: 2.25 lbs. tayberries:2.5 c. sugar
  • Tayberry Jam, Chef Heidi Fink, no pectin: 5 c. tayberries:3.5-4 c. sugar
  • Tayberry Raspberry Refrigerator Jam (no pectin), Jam Blog: Ratio of raspberries to tayberries was strictly a function of how many they were able to pick. Berry:sugar ratio 2:1 by weight
  • Strawberry Rhubarb Jam with pectin, Food in Jars: Berry:rhubarb ratio 2:1. Fruit:sugar ratio also 2:1. Measurements by volume, not by weight.
    • From a mention of vanilla in this Food in Jars post and the next one listed I'm taking away the idea to include a teaspoon of vanilla bean paste for every 6 c. total fruit.
  • Sweet Cherry Rhubarb Jam with pectin, Food in Jars. Cherries:rhubarb 3:2 by weight. Fruit:sugar 5 lbs:3 cups, or an estimated volume comparison of 14:3 cups.
  • Small Batch Vanilla Rhubarb Jam with pectin, Food in Jars: 1.25 lbs. rhubarb:1 c. sugar
  • Rhubarb Hibiscus Jam, with pectin, Food in Jars. 2.25 lbs:2 c. sugar

With all this in mind(ish), I settled on 1.5:1 tayberries:rhubarb as a good ratio for the fruit, and 2:1 fruit:sugar as a starting point for the sugar. The jam is really delicious although the rhubarb tartness doesn't show up the way I thought it would. Tayberries are pretty powerful; next time I'd make it a 1:1 ratio, maybe even 1:1.5.

I have a lot of tayberries on hand. Even after making this I'll be doing something else with them. Hence the large quantities here, which I split across two pots. Many jam recipes tell you not to double the recipe in one pot because it will take so much longer to cook down. They're right, it does, and I've cooked various too-large quantities of chutneys and jams and paid the price in time. 

Feel free to reduce these quantities! This is geared around how much rhubarb I had on hand.

Several of the recipes call for lemon, often expressed as the juice and zest of one lemon. I don't always have fresh lemons on hand; I'm using 3 T. bottled lemon juice to stand in for a single fresh lemon zest + juice. This gives a boost to the pectin levels without adding commercial pectin, which I prefer not to use.

Tayberry Rhubarb (Taybarb) Jam

Prep 
  • Macerate the fruit overnight if you want to. (Notes* at end of recipe)
  • Get your hot-water bath canning setup together. This blog isn't your home for full canning safety information. Consult the National Center for Home Food Preservation for detailed instructions.
  • Put a small plate in the freezer to get cold for the wrinkle test you'll use to check jam readiness for canning.
Ingredients

  • Rhubarb: 2.6 lbs, a hair over 8 cups, diced fine
  • Tayberries*: 3.75 lbs., 12 cups. Fresh or frozen both work. Other berry varieties also good here!
  • Sugar: 7.5-10 cups (taste and adjust based on berry sweetness; if you picked your tayberries when they were red, not dark purple, they weren't fully ripe and will be more tart)
  • Lemon juice: 1/2 c. (1/4 c. per 10 cups of fruit)
  • Vanilla bean paste (optional): 2-3 t.

Yield: 8 half-pints, 9 quarter-pints

Cooking instructions

Gently mix the rhubarb, berries, sugar, and vanilla bean paste if you're using that together. 

Bring to a boil over high heat, stirring regularly. Turn down to medium heat.

Add the lemon juice (or juice/zest if you're using that).

Cook, stirring regularly, until the fruit softens, reduces, and breaks down to a jammy consistency. Be sure to stir clear to the bottom. I use a rubber scraper to be sure I'm getting everything up, especially as it starts to thicken and stick more. 

Depending on whether you start with fresh or frozen fruit this could take 20 minutes or so up to 30-45. If it spits at you, which hot fruit can do, reduce the heat slightly. The rhubarb should more or less dissolve and the liquid thicken.

As the fruit softens use a potato masher or the back of a wooden spoon or rubber scraper to break up bigger chunks. If you want a smooth jam, you might very carefully use an immersion blender. I'd protect myself with a lid or towel covering the pot if I went this route to avoid getting splattered with boiling jam. I didn't do this and my jam was a nice spreadable consistency.

Continue cooking until it reaches 220 degrees or passes the freezer plate test. I can generally get my jam a bit north of 200 and then find it's jammy enough to pass the freezer test and sets up just fine, not rubberized.

Ladle into clean, sterilized canning jars, wipe the rims with a clean damp paper towel or cloth, put on the lids to fingertip tight. Put in the canning kettle, bring to a full boil, and process for 10 minutes.

About the foam

For the prettiest jam, recipes tell you to gently skim off the foam that forms on top. I chase it to the edge, trying not to pick up any bits of fruit, and put it into a small jar that then gives me foamy jelly—delicious! Not something I'd give as a gift but I pop it into the fridge and enjoy it. I've also completely skipped this step and stirred the foam into the jam as it cooks. It does end up rising to the top when I put the cooked jam into the jars. You could skim at that step too, I suppose, to preserve your culinary esthetics reputation. This time around I did a decent job of skimming; image below is a "before".


Photo from above looking into a white enamel-lined pot with red jam cooking in it. A wooden-handled scraper sits in the jam, which has pinkish foam on it in some places.

Note on jars and lids

One of my most satisfying discoveries last year was the Fillmore one-piece canning lids with the buttons. They seal with a very satisfying pop within minutes of coming out of the hot-water bath, sometimes within seconds. These make my jars look nicer as a gift item, since the recipient gets a very reusable jar/lid combo. This, of course, means it's possible fewer of my jars make their way back to me. I figure the canning-jar economy is a pay-it-forward setup and don't worry about it.

Close-up photo of half-pint and quarter-pint glass jars with gold lids, sitting on a red towel.
I discovered these thanks to a Food in Jars post on canning with one-piece lids. I have lots of rings left and I'm using those on non-jam products like pickles, applesauce, and salsa that I can in pint or quart jars. The Superb brand lids Fillmore also sells are very high quality and also have a solid pop.

I also really like the Fillmore square-shouldered half-pint jars and their smooth-sided quarter-pint jars, all made in the US. The quilted ones by other jar manufacturers are pretty but I have a hard time getting the dissolvable Avery labels I use to stick if the size goes beyond the little smooth oval onto the quilted surface.


*Optional added steps

You can do one or the other of these but not both, since you wouldn't want to lose sugar in the process of squishing berries through a sieve. I didn't do either and it turned out fine.

Maceration: Mix the sugar into the tayberries (and rhubarb too, if you want) and let them sit for several hours or overnight. This will release the juices. Don't discard the juice! You want that tasty liquid to cook into the jam as it cooks down. The maceration step speeds up the cooking time a bit.

Seedless option: Another step I skipped that you could add if it's your preference: Gently cook the tayberries alone for a bit to loosen them up, then squish them through a fine sieve with the back of a soup ladle to remove the majority of the seeds. Tayberries are a blackberry cross and their parent's seediness does show up in the jam.

Why the sieve and spoon method: I've tried a food mill; I don't have plates fine enough to get the seeds out. I've tried a KitchenAid seed removal attachment. Himalayan blackberry seeds backed up and eventually blew the attachment right off the front of the mixer. I'm just lucky I wasn't standing in front of it at the time. It blew with a sound like a rocket going off and likely could have taken an eye out, or at least done some serious damage.

Related Reading

Canstravaganza! Food Preservation 2024

Shelves full of small jars in various colors attest to the bounty of 2024 and my many weekends of chopping, stirring, and canning. I still have jars left from 2023—salsa verde, piccalilli, chow chowso I didn't make things I still have on the shelf. Make that shelves: Pantry shelves in the laundry room, more stored inside a laundry room cupboard, and a lot stored on shelving in the garage. We can only eat so much salsa verde and the tomatillos were so, so prolific in 2023 I still have some in the freezer.

On a wintery day in early February 2025 I woke to snow on the ground and we had periods of snow falling throughout the day. I decided it was the perfect day to make the kitchen smell like summer. The first canning of 2025 really represents some of the final canning of the 2024 harvest. Not the final final, mind you. I still have blueberries, elderberries, green cherry and grape tomatoes in the freezer. From 2023 I still have big bags of tomatillos and some chopped leeks I've been thinking I might make into soup, or leek jam/marmalade of some kind (maybe this recipe for Leek and Roasted Garlic Jam). And oh my gosh, just realized I have another two full gallon bags of blackberries still in the freezer after that canning session.

Those snowy Sunday recipes:

  • Tayberry Jam Recipe by Chef Heidi Fink. 11 quarter-pints, 6 half-pints
  • Classic Raspberry Jam Recipe by Creative Canning. 7 quarter-pints, 7 half-pints
  • Blackberry Roasted Plum Preserves by Southern Fatty. 8 quarter-pints, 8 half-pints
  • Blackberry Plum Fruit Leather: No recipe needed. Pureed blackberries and plums in the food processor, dropped in dollops about the size of a Nilla wafer on the dehydrator trays, and dried overnight to produce little fruity coins by the next morning. Those went into the freezer.

Somewhat belatedly in summer 2024 I started a tally of what I'd made. I reconstructed it by going back through my journal, where I'd usually noted what I made and the yield, and by reviewing what I'd lined up on the shelves. I hadn't always made a note so it's an imperfect record but still gives an idea of volume and variety.

Tally from 2024 canning that doesn't include a fair amount of jerky (mushrooms, jackfruit, cauliflower) that I also made along the way using that old food dehydrator:

June
July
  • Strawberry Rhubarb Jam, 2 quarter-pints, 12 half-pints
  • Sweet & Salty Pickled Cherries, 4 half-pints (these are definitely on regular repeat every cherry season in the future!)
August
September

October
Thoughts on the season:
  1. I'd make almost every one of these recipes again. (The Chunky Caramel Apple Jam was a bit disappointing; I might grate the apples and amp up the caramel if I repeated it.)
  2. I don't need to repeat all these next season, though, because those shelves are packed full!
  3. I give some of this bounty away every so often, apparently not often enough.
  4. No wonder September 2024 is sort of a blur in my memory.

I blogged along the way to capture recipes I found and those I created. I'm glad I did; it will make it easier when I do buckle up for another ride on the canstravaganza train.


Edited to add that I came back to this post to help with the calculation of how many nice one-piece lids I need to order from Fillmore for the next season. Good to have a full tally right here. I get some wide-mouthed, some regular, and this year I plan to make a few sauces so I need some bottles with smaller lids. In 2024 I used 312 jar lids, some regular, some wide-mouth. I'm having an aha moment right now in the realization that giving canning jars with nice lids makes it less likely that the jars will be returned, but I can live with that. I have dozens of rings for the two-piece approach so I'll restock lids for those plus the nice ones.



I'm a Citizen of the CaffeineNation

Photo of a rectangular yellow sign with a drawing of a coffee cup and the words "First I drink coffee, then I do the things."
I love coffee, and coffee loves me back, by which I mean I'm a fast metabolizer of caffeine so I can pretty much drink all the coffee I want all day long. Given that my superpower is sleeping, this means afternoon coffee doesn't disrupt my trips to Slumberland. Years ago while working at WSU Spokane I learned from one of our nutrition researchers that some unfortunate folk are slow metabolizers so they have to cut themselves off from the magic bean. So sad.

Coffee culture entered my life many years ago when I lived in Coeur d'Alene, where I tasted my first latte at The Roastery on Sherman Avenue, since closed. A 16-ounce latte with flavor was $1.85, o best beloved, and I felt so big-city sitting in the space with its wooden floors and high ceiling, the banging of the barista knocking grounds out of the little metal cup, the hiss of the steam. 

I was broke enough that I couldn't indulge as often as I wanted, given that I was divorced with two toddlers and doing freelance copy editing client by client for a living. I'd put $2 cash into a jar when I had the urge to get a latte. Saving those dollars meant I'd have money for a latte or for something bigger, like going to a restaurant with those toddlers and being able to tip the wait staff.

Then I went to grad school and got that job at WSU Spokane, with enough salary to get coffee when I wanted it. I started practicing yoga at a studio right next to The Rocket on Main Avenue. That particular Rocket is also no longer there. For a while that spot was home to Boots Bakery with its fantastic vegan baked goods and comfort foods and good coffee as well. Boots has moved just across the street into the Saranac Commons so that block still has great coffee hang-out vibes.

Fast forward to living in Seattle, where coffee places abound including (shocker!) many that aren't Starbucks. My final job interview for the Washington Bikes executive director position took place at Grand Central Bakery in Pioneer Square, which became a favorite lunch spot when I got that job. Alas, it closed during the pandemic and didn't reopen, although they have other locations (and I'm now living in Olympia anyway).

Close-up photo of a smiling blonde woman with chin-length hair wearing a pink collared blouse. She sits at a table with a tall cup of coffee and a small dish of gelato in front of her. Behind her, old brick buildings and people.
Once again I had a good job and could latte up whenever I wanted to, and I did. For a while we lived in the heart of downtown and every Saturday I took whatever I was reading to a coffee shop just down the street for a baked goodie and a latte and sat and read a while. I checked recently and that place has changed hands. Since that's happened to most of the coffee places I went to regularly I'm beginning to wonder if it's something about me.... 

But Zeitgeist is still open so no, I'm not a coffeeshop curse. Very near the Amtrak station, it's located in a building attached to the one where my WSDOT office was (next job after WA Bikes) so it was an easy choice on days I didn't explore farther afield. Great spot for a change of venue when I needed to take my laptop to a different space to shake up my thinking.

Jump ahead in time again to the first years of the pandemic when all I wanted was to be able to sit in a coffee shop with the gentle buzz of people around me, but people around me meant danger and possible death. Those third places matter (and the concept of the third place itself is closely tied to coffeehouses).

I now live in Olympia, with a downtown that offers plenty of good coffee and zero Starbucks locations. I don't make as many coffee-shop visits on my own as I once did, although my sweetheart and I regularly go for coffee on our weekend walks. When I'm in a coffee shop now, whether on my own or with someone, I pay attention, the way I did when I was broke and it was incredibly special. What makes it special now is the memory of how the pandemic took that social space away from all of us.

My relationship with tea hasn't been as consistent. I've always associated tea with my Grandma Humphrey (she of the rocker), who came from England to Canada on a ship when she was four and grew up in a tea-drinking British immigrant family. For Christmas I would pick out tea samplers to give her: Earl Grey and English Breakfast and Orange Pekoe.

I enjoy herbal infusions a great deal. To the purist these are tisanes, not tea, because they don't have actual tea leaves in them. They're my hot not-a-coffee cup when I need a change: Red Zinger, Bengal Spice, Lemon Ginger, Throat Coat if I'm under the weather. I have some delightful Scottish Highlands tea thanks to my sister-in-law's travels and it sometimes shows up as my morning cuppa. Millie's Sipping Broth is a more recent discovery, like bouillon but better and contained in a tea bag to make it quick and easy without those crumbs of undissolved stuff in the bottom of the cup. 

None of these are coffee, though. Last year we watched "Spaceman," with Adam Sandler in a very different role as a bearded, morose lone astronaut who encounters an alien. The keeper line from that script: "The hot bean water. It is a ritual."

All this and the annual coffeeneuring rides organized by Mary Gersemalina, too. Bike to a bunch of places and drink coffee too? I'm all in.

No matter what your hot beverage of choice, it comes to your cup by way of a million million actions, to which Michael Cope pays homage in "Tea Ceremony". I'm serving up a few cups of coffee and tea poetry for you below.

"Tea Ceremony" by Michael Cope

To this tea, I pay homage.
To the growth in the bud,
to the cells exchanging
air, water and light, I pay homage.

"Tea" by Leslie Harrison

The tea leaves in their white paper pouch
in their skyblue mug—I’ve brewed thousands of cups

"When My Mother Makes Me Tea" by Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer

.... There is kindness
in the way she unwraps the tea bag,
my favorite earl gray, the bergamot
floral and strong. 

"Coffee Break" by Kwame Dawes

and the cool air off the hills
made me think of coffee,
so I said, “Coffee would be nice,”
and he said, “Yes, coffee
would be nice,” and smiled

"Recipe for Happiness in Khabarovsk or Anyplace" by Lawrence Ferlinghetti

One grand boulevard with trees
with one grand café in sun
with strong black coffee in very small cups

"These Days My Music" by Mary O'Connor

when I can’t pray or think or read or make a decision,
I want to be burrowed in a corner with a cold half-cup

"In the Company of Women" by January Gill O'Neil

Make me laugh over coffee,
make it a double, make it frothy
so it seethes in our delight.

"I Allow Myself" by Dorothea Grossman

Charmed as I am
by the sputter of bacon,
and the eye-opening properties
of eggs,
it’s the coffee
that’s really sacramental.

"Morning Song" by Dorianne Laux

This morning begins almost purely, coffee
enveloped in cream, those clouds that bloom up
like madness in a cup, and I take the first swallow
before the color changes, taste the bitterness
and the faint sweet behind it,

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