Picking, chopping, freezing.
I had three baskets full of (Donald Trump-style) HUGE apples this year, all from one apple tree.
So I went a picking late one afternoon, this past week. Thank goodness that the previous owners had left an apple picker (30 years ago) for us to use.
The freezer bags are stuffed with apples that I've either peeled and sliced myself or they've fit into my apple peeler/corer device.
Just before I put them into the bags they get a rinse of fresh lemon juice, to stop any browning action. Those are now frozen.
I don't know what the apples are named. I tell folks who I give them to just cut out the bad spots and that they are good for cooking. But this year, they even taste good raw.
I need to get the apples that I've removed the bad spots from into my slicer/dicer contraption and into the freezer bags, tonight. Tomorrow night, I'll finish up with the rest.
Makes me think I'm a Real Western Woman! In my dreams, I'm talking to an audience while I'm doing my thing and looking so cool (but I'm sweating like a pig)....telling them how to bake apple cakes, apple pies, apple tarts...just like on Food Network.
In reality, I'm washing the apples, trying not to get bugs into my kitchen, messing with the corer/slicer thingy, letting that fall to the floor, then finding a cutting board to slice the apples on while glancing at the rest of them turning brown. Then squeezing the lemon juice through my fingers so the seeds won't fall into the bowl. Ah heck, nobody will notice a few lemon seeds.
Maybe I'll invite y'all over for dessert, once I pull the bags out of the freezer.
Live richly, marilyn
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