The (Crab) Apple Saga, Part 2: I Think I Can, I Think I Can

Alternative titles for this post: "We Can Do It," "Yes We Can," and "I Think, Therefore I Can."

Apologies, Dear Reader, for the delay in continuing this tale of love, lust, and the quest for rare and exotic fruits. We took a day off today and went to the beach. Can you blame us? Yesterday at 4 p.m. the thermometer hit 37°C (99°F). Lake Huron beckoned, and did not disappoint.

Anyway, when we last left the story, our misidentified fruit had been cast aside and the search for Genuine! The Real Thing! Do Not Be Fooled By Cheap Imitation! crab apples continued. Our Lady Friends went back to the (obviously blind and probably also stupid, I mean, duh, who doesn't know what a crab apple looks like?!?) Mennonites to berate them for their ignorance regarding crab apple identification. After more driving around K-Dubs we hit paydirt in St. Jacob's in the form of a vendor who said she'd bring us a bushel of crab apples on the next market day. Sure enough, she did, and I toted that sack of crab apples across the parking lot so I could deliver it back to the Ladies for their jelly-making endeavours.

In the unlikely case that you should ever need to identify crab apples, here is what one of the (two, I think) varieties looks like:


[Pause for discussion. Discussion point #1: Crab apples are heavy. They're about the size of cherries, only much harder and denser, and I can only assume heavier (although, full disclosure, I've never carried a bushel of cherries anywhere). Discussion point #2: As far as I can tell, the only use for crab apples is to make crab apple jelly, which is why most of people with crab apple trees in their yards just let the fruit fall and rot, because it turns out making crab apple jelly is extremely time-consuming and, depending on who you talk to, a giant pain in the ass.]

And finally, what became of our rejected non-crab apple apples? I'm glad you asked: I made good on my promise to turn lemons into lemonade, or in this case, to turn unwanted apples into applesauce.

I mean, how could I not? The total cost to me was $7 for a new peeler (I got blisters anyway - that was a lot of apples) and $2 for a box of jars at a garage sale. That's $9 for 15 jars (some huge!) of unsweetened applesauce. Let's not talk about how much applesauce costs at the grocery store, please, because I'm pretty sure it's going to mean my time is worth about $2/hr.