A is for Applesauce

Two years ago I decided we needed to revive my mother’s and grandmother’s summer applesauce tradition, so I doubled-down my efforts to locate Yellow Transparent apples. Since I’d had no luck calling growers up and down the Shenandoah Valley, I continued my search in Pennsylvania, where my mother and grandmother grew up. I threw my quest out to cousins in Bucks County and Lancaster County.

Sure enough, Cousins Mary Jane and Rich located a grower in Lancaster County, ensuring that I now get to see them once a year when I pick up the apples. Two summers ago I took my kids and a visiting teenaged cousin from my husband’s family along, and we spent an afternoon at Hershey Park, or at least the water park portion of it. That evening Rich and Mary Jane hosted us for dinner and overnight. In the morning we picked up two bushels of apples, along with Shoo Fly Pie, Chow Chow, extra wide egg noddles for Chicken Pot Pie and other PA Dutch delicacies from my childhood, plus snacks chosen by each of my passengers.

Last summer we met my Lancaster County cousins and my Bucks County cousins in Philadelphia for a Phillies-Nats game. There were ten of us altogether, of divided loyalties, and every couple of innings we switched up the seating order so that by the end of the game I felt caught up with each of my cousins. Despite the Nats come-from-behind win, which Cousin Scott had predicted due to the dire straights of his Phillies bullpen, we all agreed that it had been a great reunion and maybe even a new tradition. After another day exploring Philly, we made the short trek over to Lancaster County to pick up the apples.

This year Cousin Rich and I are looking forward to making applesauce together at their place. It turns out that reviving the family applesauce tradition is not just about the sauce.

Life Lesson: Family traditions are the ties that bind.