(a Foremothers story)
While picking up apple drops I hear a voice from the past
I have been going outside in the morning and gathering apple drops that keep falling from our Cortland apple tree. This morning was no exception. Wondrously, our tree has a bountiful crop for the first time since we planted it and I am determined that the apples will not be wasted. Where does this passion come from? The other day as I was collecting the drops I heard the clear voice of my Nanny. In her Yiddish accent she exclaimed, “They shouldn’t go to waste.” (She pronounced it “vayste”) It was a voice from the past, my past.
Bruised Apples and Sweet Compote: Making the Past Real Again
Elie Wiesel, the noted author and Holocaust survivor said, “To remember is to resurrect.” My Nanny Sarah has been gone for decades but she visits me most often while I am in the kitchen. One of the practices I learned from her is the simple act of making compote from fruit. Chunkier than applesauce, making compote doesn’t require using a sieve. You simply peel and slice the fruit away from the core. Then you cook the fruit in a saucepan with a little water to prevent it from burning. Once the whole pot of chopped fruit is simmering, you turn off the heat, stir it up, and let it cool. While I prefer the natural flavor of the fruit, You can add some cinnamon or sweetener to taste. In today’s batch I decided to toss in a handful of yellow raisins and some Ceylon cinnamon. And for those who want to go deeper into the history of orchards and apples, here’s a compote recipe from an orchardist in the U.K.
What do we inherit from our foremothers? Besides our genes, we learn habits of living, ways of being, and food traditions to name just three. While I was out gathering the bruised and dropped apples my past became present. As I heard my Nanny’s voice in my head I saw myself as a young girl in her kitchen. A window looked out on the small yard where her fruit trees lived–one pear and one apple. Exploring the scene through the lens of memory, I can see Nanny peeling apples over the sink while her parakeet chirps in the background. Now I can see my child self gathering drops from under the trees and putting them in a bushel basket in her backyard.
“They Shouldn’t Go to Waste.”
Stepping out of this memory kitchen, I began thinking about the reasons for my grandmother’s frugality and why she insisted on making sweet compote every Autumn from those fallen and bruised apples. Most likely it was the poverty of her childhood in the old country and then, in her home on Bragaw Avenue in Newark with grandpa Bennie, the challenge of raising her children during the Great Depression. That kitchen of memory was on Pleasant Valley Way in West Orange, my home town. On occasion, when visiting family, I drive past the house and wonder if those fruit trees are still there? During this bountiful apple year I discovered that my bruised and fallen apples often taste great. You just have to cut away the nasty parts. And today my kitchen is full of the aroma of cooking apples, a seasonal delight. Finally, let me say that I wholeheartedly agree with my Nanny about the bruised and fallen apples– They shouldn’t go to waste!
With love and gratitude,
Robin
Thank you, Robin, for this nostalgic message today! My foremothers—grandmothers— were gardeners, cookers, and canners, and my dad was the “orchardist” in my family. My mother gathered the drops and made chunky applesauce. Last week I made some apple compote for my breakfast, just not from drops because, Florida! But, oh! The memories! Next week I will be heading home to Detroit for my granddaughter’s wedding. She is 28 now, the apple of my eye. But when she was much younger, I taught her to make apple pie like my grandma used to make; a “modern” recipe using Wesson oil for the crust instead of chicken fat (no cholesterol). I am also going to take along a gift for my grandson, who loves to be in the kitchen and said he would love to have it—my grandmother’s old wooden recipe box, stuffed to overflowing now with recipes handwritten by three generations of foremothers. Carrying it forward! Much love!
Linda! Thank you so much for sharing all of the above. I’m excited for you about going home to Detroit. What a special celebration her wedding will be. I love that you’re bringing the recipes in your grandmother’s old wooden box filled with recipes from three generations of foremothers. Wow! I hope your grandson will enjoy that special gift. Yes–carrying it forward. Much love to you!
Loved this post Rob! This is my every day living with an orchard. And yes, maybe I too have the “they shouldn’t go to vaste” memo playing in my head when I’m lugging apples to get pressed into cider/juice (I have a freezer full) and peeling apple after apple to make compote. I like to put blackberries in it when I have them – sometimes I get them marked down from the supermarket but still perfect for stewing with the apples. Had completely forgotten about Cortland apples until I read your post! I planted wine sap which is the apple I remember most from our childhood. It took several years to get the grafted tree and I planted it last year. There is one apple on it and I’m determined to try it before the birds do!
xx
I thought of you when writing it, Julie! How exciting that you planted a grafted winesap tree and that it has an apple on it. I hear you about the birds. Our challenge has been raccoons. They climb the tree and eat the from the biggest juiciest apples. I was trying to think of the place dad used to take us and finally just looked it up–Nettie Ochs Cider Mill. It was on Short Hills Road in Livingston. They used to have those crisp and delicious Stayman Winesap apples and I loved them so much. Cousin Richard also wrote to me and said my post resonated with his memories of Nanny, her trees and her fruit compote. Cousin Barbara weighed in too. She remembered Nanny’s apple cake but didn’t remember the trees or compote. She shared a recipe that might be similar to Nanny’s apple cake. I’ll send it along if you’d like.