{"id":2592,"date":"2013-09-20T13:07:11","date_gmt":"2013-09-20T17:07:11","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.katrinakenison.com\/?p=2592"},"modified":"2013-09-20T13:07:11","modified_gmt":"2013-09-20T17:07:11","slug":"perfect-fuss-applesauce-recipe","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/perfect-fuss-applesauce-recipe\/","title":{"rendered":"Time in a bottle"},"content":{"rendered":"

\"photo\"I\u00a0<\/span>spent most of yesterday morning in the kitchen with my son Jack, windows open to the September air.\u00a0 In ten days he will move to Atlanta to begin his new life there as a student.\u00a0 But for now, the two of us find ourselves home alone together.\u00a0 (Henry left last week to return to his alma mater, St. Olaf, where he\u2019s helping out with the fall musical; Steve has been away for a few days on business. And so, it’s just two of us here, a rare mother-son combination that hasn\u2019t happened for years and may not recur any time soon.)<\/p>\n

All summer, I have mourned the end of summer.\u00a0 Back in June, my family laughed at me for regretting the passing of time before the time I\u2019d been anticipating had even arrived.\u00a0 (Yes, I know, it\u2019s crazy.) The days were still getting longer, they pointed out, and already I was imagining how I would feel when they began to grow shorter.\u00a0 The lake water was perfect for swimming, and I was wondering how many more swims we would have. A piercing awareness of the preciousness, the transience, of everything is, I suppose, both the blessing and the burden of my temperament. It is also the price my family has to pay for living with me.\u00a0 I am always reminding them (myself!<\/em>) to notice, to appreciate, to be aware of all that is and of all we have.<\/p>\n

The truth is, I write so much about inhabiting the moment largely to help myself remember that it\u2019s where I want to be: simply present. \u00a0My tendency, always, is to live with a lump in my throat.\u00a0 I experience the pain of endings even as I cherish the tenderness of beginnings. \u00a0I allow every joy to be shot through with a thread of sadness.\u00a0 And I see in all that lives, all that has passed; \u00a0in all that is, all that one day will no longer be.<\/p>\n

And so \u00a0I sit in my garden amidst the wildly blooming nasturtiums and feel the fleetingness of their splendor.\u00a0 I adore our thirteen-year-old dog all the more for knowing her days are numbered.\u00a0 (When she placed her head on the bed this morning at 6 am and pleaded for a walk, I swung right into action \u2013 because, of course, I can so easily imagine the future, when there will be no need to be out taking a hike at dawn.)\u00a0 I fill our basement freezer with strawberries and blueberries and raspberries picked at the height of the season because I am always conscious of the season\u2019s inexorable turning.<\/p>\n

H<\/span>anging out with my soon to be 21-year-old son yesterday, I reminded myself to simply enjoy the moment, without layering on the fact that in a few weeks he\u2019ll be in his own new kitchen a few thousand miles away and we\u2019ll be texting instead of talking.<\/p>\n

Being present, without regret for the past or anticipation of the future, feels to me like a lifelong practice. \u00a0It’s a lesson I keep on learning, one I need to take up again each day.\u00a0 But Jack has always been good at keeping me in my place:\u00a0 here, now.<\/p>\n

(\u201cDo you want me to write out some recipes for you?\u201d I asked him, envisioning the notebook I could create, with printed recipes slipped into plastic sleeves, complete with shopping lists \u2013 chili, chicken soup, corn chowder. . . . \u201cGrandma did that for Dad when he moved away to live on his own,\u201d I said, \u201cso he would have a few things he could cook for himself.\u201d My son declined.\u00a0 \u201cThat\u2019s nice, Mom\u201d he said. \u201cBut we live in a different world now.\u00a0 If I want to make chili, I’ll go online.\u201d\u00a0 Right.)<\/p>\n

So, I will resist the urge to send him to Atlanta with my recipes.\u00a0 Instead, yesterday, we just made some food together.\u00a0 I had twenty pounds of heirloom apples, gathered up from the ground around my friend Margaret\u2019s<\/strong><\/a> hundred-year-old tree.\u00a0 The gentle, deeply resonant voice of Bhava Ram, my current favorite singer, filled the house.\u00a0 Jack sat at the table and cut the knobby apples into quarters.\u00a0 I stirred them down over low heat, adding cinnamon, anise, lemon.\u00a0 Good smells bubbled up.\u00a0 We talked about this and that, nothing special.\u00a0 It was just a day.\u00a0 I didn\u2019t need to shape it or mourn it or grip it — or do anything at all, other than live it.<\/p>\n

And yet, as I ladled the thick sauce into jars, the refrain from an old Jim Croce song kept running through my head:\u00a0 \u201cIf I could save time in a bottle. . .\u201d<\/p>\n

It felt as if that\u2019s just what I was doing.\u00a0 Bottling not only the apples, but time itself.\u00a0 The quiet of the day, the sunlight pouring through the windows, the togetherness with my young adult son, the easy pleasure of making something good to eat. We have had our struggles, he and I.\u00a0 We still do. Let\u2019s be honest:\u00a0 he is twenty, and we are different, and nothing is easy. And yet, our bond is close.<\/p>\n

Perhaps, as we haltingly find our way into a new relationship with each other as two adults, we are closer than we\u2019ve been in years.\u00a0 The more space I am able to give him, it seems, the more comfortable we are with each other. \u00a0I don\u2019t know what thoughts went through his mind yesterday; I didn\u2019t ask. And for once I didn\u2019t feel the need to tell him what was in mine either: a sense that no matter what mistakes we\u2019ve made with each other in the past or what challenges we may face in the future, there is beauty in the now \u2013 and now is enough.<\/p>\n

Can I bottle that wisdom, too?\u00a0 No.\u00a0 But perhaps, some winter night I\u2019ll take a jar of our applesauce out of the freezer, warm it on the stove, and allow good memories of being with my son to mingle with the goodness of learning how to let him go. Again.<\/p>\n

(I\u2019ll confess: I\u2019ve been listening to that Jim Croce song<\/strong><\/a> this morning as I write this post.\u00a0 And I\u2019m here to report that, yup, the song holds up.\u00a0 Which is to say, it still makes me cry.)<\/p>\n

“Time in a Bottle”<\/strong><\/em><\/p>\n

If I could save time in a bottle<\/em>
\nThe first thing that I’d like to do<\/em>
\nIs to save every day<\/em>
\nTill eternity passes away<\/em>
\nJust to spend them with you<\/em><\/p>\n

If I could make days last forever<\/em>
\nIf words could make wishes come true<\/em>
\nI’d save every day like a treasure and then,<\/em>
\nAgain, I would spend them with you<\/em><\/p>\n

But there never seems to be enough time<\/em>
\nTo do the things you want to do<\/em>
\nOnce you find them<\/em>
\nI’ve looked around enough to know<\/em>
\nThat you’re the one I want to go<\/em>
\nThrough time with<\/em><\/p>\n

If I had a box just for wishes<\/em>
\nAnd dreams that had never come true<\/em>
\nThe box would be empty<\/em>
\nExcept for the memory<\/em>
\nOf how they were answered by you<\/em><\/p>\n

But there never seems to be enough time<\/em>
\nTo do the things you want to do<\/em>
\nOnce you find them<\/em>
\nI’ve looked around enough to know<\/em>
\nThat you’re the one I want to go<\/em>
\nThrough time with.<\/em><\/p>\n

\n

Perfect, no-fuss applesauce<\/span><\/h3>\n

6-8 pounds of organic apples<\/p>\n

juice of half a lemon<\/p>\n

3 inch-wide strips of lemon peel<\/p>\n

3 cinnamon sticks<\/p>\n

3 whole star anise<\/p>\n

dollop of raw honey (to taste; I use about 3 T.)<\/p>\n

1\/4 cup water<\/p>\n

Cut apples into quarters. \u00a0Place everything in a large, heavy pot over low heat. \u00a0Stir occasionally, for about 15 minutes, till apples are completely soft and sauce is thick. \u00a0Taste for sweetness. \u00a0The lemon and sweetness should achieve a nice balance, enhancing the apple flavor. \u00a0You can eat as is, run through a food mill, or whiz in a blender. \u00a0I put mine in my high speed blender till smooth. \u00a0The pink-ish jars? \u00a0I added a few handfuls of my frozen raspberries for the last minutes of cooking. \u00a0Applesauce will keep in the freezer for a year.<\/p>\n

Still in a fall-cooking frame of mind?<\/span><\/h3>\n

It seems like a long time ago that Margaret and I were at her house, getting ready for our books to come out, plotting and planning our joint New England reading tour. \u00a0We also shared my favorite lentil soup, which I’d forgotten all about til she re-posted my recipe on her blog yesterday. \u00a0It looked so good, I went right out and bought some lentils. \u00a0Dinner tonight! \u00a0Click here<\/strong><\/span><\/a><\/span> for the whole story, and my recipe.<\/span><\/p>\n<\/div>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I\u00a0spent most of yesterday morning in the kitchen with my son Jack, windows open to the September air.\u00a0 In ten days he will move to Atlanta to begin his new life there as a student.\u00a0 But for now, the two of us find ourselves home alone together.\u00a0 (Henry left last week to return to his […]<\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":15183,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"nf_dc_page":"","om_disable_all_campaigns":false,"_monsterinsights_skip_tracking":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_active":false,"_monsterinsights_sitenote_note":"","_monsterinsights_sitenote_category":0,"_genesis_hide_title":false,"_genesis_hide_breadcrumbs":false,"_genesis_hide_singular_image":false,"_genesis_hide_footer_widgets":false,"_genesis_custom_body_class":"","_genesis_custom_post_class":"","_genesis_layout":"","_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[17,18,22,5,35,8,11,13,14],"tags":[138,226,263,279,324,352],"class_list":{"0":"post-2592","1":"post","2":"type-post","3":"status-publish","4":"format-standard","5":"has-post-thumbnail","7":"category-acceptance","8":"category-at-the-table","9":"category-change","10":"category-hearth-home","11":"category-letting-go","12":"category-parenting","13":"category-parenting-young-adults","14":"category-recipes","15":"category-soul-work","16":"tag-cooking","17":"tag-impermanence","18":"tag-letting-go-2","19":"tag-margaret-roach","20":"tag-parenting-2","21":"tag-recipes-2","22":"entry"},"jetpack_featured_media_url":"https:\/\/i0.wp.com\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-content\/uploads\/2018\/10\/600x600.png?fit=600%2C600","jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"_links":{"self":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2592","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/comments?post=2592"}],"version-history":[{"count":0,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2592\/revisions"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media\/15183"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/media?parent=2592"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/categories?post=2592"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"http:\/\/katrinakenison.com\/new\/wp-json\/wp\/v2\/tags?post=2592"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}