From Karyl’s Cook & Tell Column (December 1976)
You get to thinking about a lot of things you never thought about before. You think year-end thoughts because this has been a year like no other year, and you remember clearly every scrap and tidbit about the fall, summer and spring long past.
You give the apple butter cooking on the woodstove a stir. A lot of things you never thought very deeply about begin to surface. Old friends coming closer, new friends enriching your life. There is a feeling of standing outside and watching your life unfold, of being a part of things taking place, while at the same time being an observer, a camera, a reporter.
There is a sense of treading lightly through new paths of experience, while at the same time planting your feet more firmly somewhere between mid-air and terra firma. The luxury of time to think is itself new. You tiptoe. Hover. Soar.
You stir the apple butter again.
Every corner of my house is aware of the apple butter which has been brooding on the back of the black iron cookstove for the past two days. In its appeal to the sense of smell, it is rivaled only by the woodsmoke, which by now has begun to invade every bit of clothing I own.
I leave my warm nest of pillows on the couch, extracting my legs from under the dog’s front paws, to embark on one more log-toting trip from stove to stove. The apple butter will be perfect tomorrow.
Karyl’s Headnotes
Nobody can guess it’s tomatoes that make this apple butter so wonderful. The tip for super success: Cook it down as thick as possible on the stovetop, then put it on a crockpot on low all night, for just the right consistency. No scorching, and what an aroma to wake up to!
SPICED APPLE BUTTER
3 lb. ripe tomatoes, peeled and seeded
5 lb. apples, peeled, cored and diced
2 ½ lb. brown sugar
1 c. cider vinegar
1 t. each: ground cinnamon, allspice, ginger, cloves
Put all the ingredients in a large pot. Bring to a boil, cook it down slowly until the mixture is thick, then cook in crockpot on low overnight.
Pack into sterilized jars and seal. Store in pantry or fridge.
Amie’s Endnotes
Many Christmases ago, when my mother was in the throes of writing the manuscript for her cookbook that would eventually be published by Houghton Mifflin in 2001, I gave her the gift of more time. I’d been watching as she typed and tested cookbook recipes, shipping off chapter after chapter to her editor; I’d been watching as she struggled to keep up with her monthly newsletter. I wanted to help, so I offered to take over the writing, testing and production of Cook & Tell for a month or two.
Oh, honey, she’d said, that’s so sweet. But it’s a big job. It’s an awful lot to take on.
It was a gift I’d never made good on. Until this year.
And for me, this year definitely has been a year like no other. Launching my mother’s vintage foodletter in the digital age launched me into a whole new world filled with food- and word-lovers. It’s brought my mom back to life and brought me back to the kitchen. I’ve cooked up almost 100 new dishes, some epic and some, epic fails. I’ve met dozens of foodwriters, virtually and in person. And I’ve treasured the recipes and words of encouragement you readers have shared with me.
My mother was right, though. Of course she was right, mothers are always right. It is a lot to take on, and I’ve only just scratched the surface. I wish we’d had more time. I wish she were here to see the rebirth of her newsletter and yet, in these bittersweet moments—this fusion of mother and daughter—I begin to see that she never really left.
Thank you all for a year like no other. Stay close.
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Love that you’ve filled your Mother’s shoes, but I’m still, and always will, miss the hard copy arriving by snail mail, relaxing in my comfy chair, holding it in my hands, and loving every moment of devouring it with my feet up and a hot cup of coffee by my side.
It would be wonderful if you could make prints, available for sale, of this wintry picture your mother painted years ago. I’m looking at a place on my livingroom wall waiting for such a treasure. Is it possible?? Have an epic holiday season. Your post made my day.
Your love for your mom shines through every beautiful word you share from her past newsletters and in your own endnotes and recipes. The smell of that unusual apple butter (OMG, tomatoes?!!) just wafts off the page--er--screen. I will have to try it. Thanks for all of it, Amie. So happy to discover Cook & Tell--and you! ❤️