So matociquala, in a fit of autumnal generosity (and possibly because I had been whining about the applesauce of days gone by), sent me apples. And today I cowboyed up and made applesauce out of them.

(For those who are confused as to why this is a big deal: I don't cook. mirrorthaw does all the cooking in our house. But mirrorthaw, having been startled by Carmen Miranda as a small child, does not eat fruit. So as far as the apples were concerned, it was me or nobody.

(The problem is compounded by the fact that my mother is a gourmet-quality hobbyist chef, and so the applesauce I remember fondly is applesauce, not the over-processed gruel that is generally inflicted upon one under the guise of applesauce. The bar I set myself, in other words, was pretty darn high.)

For future reference (i.e., in case I ever end up trying to do it again), this is what I did:

( I can't believe there's foodie babble in my blog. And it's MY FAULT. )

I think, frankly, that I would have gotten no more than I deserved if this had been an epic kitchen fail. But it has come out shockingly well. If not my mother's applesauce, it's a decent approximation. And it is OMG tasty, especially if you have a sweet tooth like mine.

And I did not cut myself even once while making it.