Growing
up, we had two apple trees in our backyard. My dad’s mother lived with us at
the time, and she would make everything imaginable from those apples. Pies,
tarts, crisps, you name it. But what I remember most was the jelly. It was pink,
because she cooked the apples with the peel still on. It was the only jelly I
would eat (that brownish "stuff" in the grocery just looked too weird and unappetizing to me). She would make batches upon batches in glass jelly jars, storing them
in the basement cupboards for use in the scores of PB&J sandwiches that we
took in our lunchboxes.
Then, when
I was nine, my grandmother suffered a debilitating stroke. Soon afterwards she moved
to a nursing home where she could get the medical care she needed. Her speech
was slurred and she could no longer write. She would never make another batch
of jelly.
And
I had never asked her to teach me how it was done.
I had long ago conceded that this would be another family heirloom lost to history (along with my great-great grandpa's prohibition-era beer recipe). But then, on Christmas day this past year, my sister and I each unwrapped a plain, white binder from
our mother. Upon opening it, we found the following inscription:
“According
to Webster’s New World Dictionary the word ‘recipe’ comes from Latin. It was
several meanings. It means a formula for a medical prescription. It can mean a
medicine made up according to such a formula. It means a list of materials and
directions for preparing a dish or drink. It also means anything proposed as a
remedy for doing something, or for producing a desired result. No matter how
you define it, a recipe is a mixture of different things resulting in something
to make you feel better, feel full, feel happy, even loved. Mix your recipes
with care, share them, and celebrate.
Lovingly,
Mom”
This
was followed by page upon page of family recipes accompanied by photos of our family celebrations over the years. Birthday parties, Christmas dinners, Thanksgiving meals, you name it.
And
there, on page nine, was the recipe for my grandma’s apple jelly.
I've made apple jelly several times since rediscovering this recipe, and every time the taste of it brings a smile to my face. I close my eyes and I'm standing in our old kitchen on a cool autumn day. My grandma is cooking up the apples we collected from the backyard, and I can smell that delicious aroma.
Now, if only I could track down that beer recipe.
Thanks for stopping by!
---
Shared at: The Prairie Homestead
I've made apple jelly several times since rediscovering this recipe, and every time the taste of it brings a smile to my face. I close my eyes and I'm standing in our old kitchen on a cool autumn day. My grandma is cooking up the apples we collected from the backyard, and I can smell that delicious aroma.
Grandma Vedder’s Apple Jelly
Cook cored, cut-up red apples (not peeled) for ½ hour.
Strain through a cheesecloth.
Add ¾ cup sugar to 1 cup of juice.
Cook until it makes syrup.
Pour into hot jelly glasses.
Add paraffin and cover.*
*In place of paraffin, jars can be sealed using the water bath
canning method for 10 minutes.
Now, if only I could track down that beer recipe.
Thanks for stopping by!
---
Shared at: The Prairie Homestead