Simple Cooked Apples and Aunt Annie

Here’s another recipe that’s really more about family. As I and my cousins and classmates have slowly become the elder generation, I’ve been sifting through, transcribing, and annotating recipes written on cards, in notebooks, on scraps of paper tucked into church-ladies’ cookbooks, on the backs of old envelopes. These are mom recipes, grandma recipes, aunt recipes, great-aunt recipes.

It’s been hard to complete this project, because I keep acquiring more of these recipes. I open up another one of their old cookbooks, and another little recipe falls out.

Then there are “recipes” that no one bothered writing down, because they were so standard, so simple, or so memorized they didn’t require it. But as I think back to how we used to eat, and compare it to how we eat today, I find I want to include these dishes.

This post is more about a person than it is about a recipe, and it’s only marginally a recipe, anyway.

This time, we’re featuring Aunt Annie—my great aunt Anna (Eggert) Wilmesherr (1904–1981), who married Emil Wilmesherr (1899–1990) in 1922. Emil was my grandma Clara (Wilmesherr) Renner’s younger brother.

Emil and Annie lived in Washington, Missouri, where his and Clara’s parents, William August and Pauline (Wehmeyer) Wilmesherr, had moved their young family from Kansas in about 1901.

Grandma Renner, though she didn’t have a car and couldn’t drive, still got to see her kin in Washington pretty often, with it only about an hour away on Highway 50. Emil and Annie had nice cars.

Fun fact: Aunt Annie’s sister Ida Eggert (1902–1956) married Clara and Emil’s older brother, Andrew Wilmesherr (1899–1990); they lived in New Haven. Two sisters married two brothers!

With Franklin County a center of the extended Wilmesherr-Wehmeyer-Brinkmeyer-Busekrus family, Emil and Annie often hosted the annual summertime family reunions. Sometimes it was at their house, but later it was held in the basement of the Leslie [now-Zion-no-longer-United] Methodist Church. (That congregation must have split from the mainstream denomination in 2023, but whatever.)

Uncle Emil often made homemade ice cream for the reunions, and when he got too old to make it, he ensured there was plenty of vanilla ice cream from the supermarket (or dairy).

I can picture him, sitting next to the big cylindrical tub of ice cream, professional-quality ice cream scoop in hand, dipping out perfect spheres of ice cream into everyone’s bowls. Between servings, he’d plunge the scoop into a container of hot water, to make the scooping easier. You only had to hold out your bowl to him, and he would fill it, or refill it, smiling, his eyes twinkling. So, so, good.

These reunions were potlucks, of course, so before the ice cream was served, we enjoyed a selection of all kinds of hot dishes, cold dishes, fried chicken, sliced ripe tomatoes, cold cuts and sandwich fixings, Jell-O salads, pies, cookies, and cakes.

While the adults visited, trying to figure out how they were related, and how many cousin-times removed they were, and learning about recent marriages and babies born, we kids visited and revisited the food tables. It was always really hot.

When the family’s formal meeting started, we went outside to play, or carefully explored the church sanctuary above. Being a young pianist, I was amazed with their 1908 pipe organ.

Emil and Annie had fruit trees in their yard, so they often provided bowls, or pies, of fresh peaches and apples.

And here is the “recipe”: one year, I remember that Aunt Annie had served a big bowl full of cooked, cold apples. They were fresh apples (probably Jonathans) from their trees, peeled, cored, and quartered, cooked until perfectly tender, sweetened with a bit of white sugar, chilled, and served in their own juices. Was there a hint of cinnamon? I can’t recall. They were tender, with only enough body to hold their shape just long enough to collapse when you closed your mouth on them.

I recall going back again and again to get more of those icy cold, delicious apples, on that hot day, in that musky church basement. These simple apples blew my mind. Yes, I was pretty young, but I was at an age where I was starting to notice and think about such things.

They weren’t apple pie, apple dumplings, applesauce, or baked apples. I asked Mom about them. “What do you call these?” She said she was pretty sure Aunt Annie had brought them. “Ask her.” So I did.

Aunt Annie kind of laughed her bubbly laugh and shook her head, with its snow-white hair, and told me, “Why, they’re just plain cooked apples, honey! How do you make them? Well, you just cook your apples, like you’re making applesauce, but you don’t mash them up!”

I must’ve expressed to her that I thought they were the best things on the whole potluck. She was flattered, but had to chuckle. She was always kind to us kids. And she had the sweetest smile.

Today I understand her bemusement, since at that point, for all I knew, applesauce was something everyone bought in a can. Only old-fashioned country people, it seemed, made homemade applesauce. But in Aunt Annie’s world, every female probably knew how to make applesauce from scratch by the age of eight. The simplest thing on earth.

I’ve been making them for myself for as long as I’ve had a kitchen. I use a steamer. I don’t turn them into applesauce—you can buy applesauce, right?

But each time I make them, I think of Aunt Annie, and her smile.

Marie's Apple Cake

There are so many ways to make apfelkuchen, or “apple cake”! I suspect every ethnic German mother and grandmother has her own recipe. This is just one version—but I know you’ll love it. It’s easy to make. It’s a bit rustic, but you can dress it up with toppings.

Yeah, there’s a whole world of great German desserts out there, and “kuchens” come in all varieties and forms. (It’s not surprising, when you consider that kuchen means “cake,” and of course we have ten thousand types of cakes—sheet cakes, pancakes, crab cakes, coffee cakes, ice cream cakes, rice cakes, etc.)

This is a nice, easy, little apple cake recipe from my Grandma Schroeder’s best friend in the whole wide world, her crony from early girlhood through their entire lives, Marie (Weigand) Korsmeyer (1904–1999). She and her husband, Clay Korsmeyer, lived at 112 W. Atchison Street. The house is still there, across the street from my friend Laura’s house.

I got the recipe from my mom, who had apparently gotten it from Grandma—Edna Schroeder—who had apparently gotten it from Marie . . . even though Grandma clearly had her own recipe(s) for apple kuchen!

Oh, Marie!

Edna and Marie’s friendship resembled a “Lucy and Ethel” relationship in some ways; it was beautiful, lively, fun-filled, and true. I think whenever their shenanigans ended with “trouble,” they generally wound up having a good laugh over it. There are stories about them, as little girls, bingeing on green apples they had snitched from someone’s apple tree, and soon after, regretting it! It would become a hilarious story that got better and better with time.

Marie (left) and Edna (right), having "refreshments" in the backyard at 224 W. Elm, late 1970s or early 1980s. That was back when "poodle" haircuts were all the rage for ladies of a certain age.

Then there’s the story about them as mature adults, having a few too many martinis out in the backyard, and . . . well, that story will remain in the family. And the neighborhood bird population—they’re probably still telling that story, too. (Ha ha ha!)

Edna and Marie were practically sisters, growing up together in the early years of the 1900s on West Elm Street. To my dad and his brothers, Marie was another aunt. And to me, she was in the same category as my great aunts Minnie and Esther, and cousin Marguerite, in that same age group. No family get-together was complete without Marie’s cackling laughter.

I’ve altered the recipe slightly, mainly putting the wet ingredients and dry ingredients together, and adding a pinch of salt, but those are the only changes. Notice that the recipe calls for two cups of apples and one cup of flour—so get a sharp knife and chop the apples finely. (Marie, by the way, had superb knife skills.) Indeed, this cake can be rather crumbly because of all the yummy apple in it. It’s super moist, almost jammy.

It’s up to you if you want to peel the apples or leave skins on. I think it makes a prettier, more tender cake if you peel them. But if you want the fiber and nutrients, you needn’t peel the apples.

Nuts: I’d use black walnuts or pecans. Back in the day, black walnuts were free, if you were willing to hull them and bust them open and pick the nutmeats out. But you can use whatever nuts you want, or omit them altogether.

The batter is pretty stiff and sticky, but not to worry—the apples will provide moisture while this bakes. To spread the batter out in the pan, wet your hands with some water and use them to pat and smooth the surface. I use an 8 x 8 inch baking dish, prepared with some nonstick cooking spray.

It will get a little crisp on top; it’s done when the edges start pulling away from the pan and a toothpick comes out clean. You know. It will be moist and rather crumbly.

This is an excellent coffee cake for breakfast as well as a tasty dessert. For the latter, consider serving it hot, à la mode. Maybe you want to drizzle some icing over it, or garnish it with a bit of cinnamon sugar or powdered sugar.

Marie’s Apple Cake

In a medium bowl, cream together:

• 1 cup sugar
• 1/4 cup shortening

Then mix in:

• 1 egg
• 1 tsp. vanilla

Set the bowl with the wet ingredients aside.

In a large bowl, combine:

• 1 cup flour
• 1 tsp. baking powder
• pinch of salt
• 1 tsp. cinnamon
• 1/4 tsp. nutmeg

Then mix in:

• 2 cups apples (about 2 large), cut finely (peel if desired) (Jonathan or Granny Smith recommended)
• 1/4 to 1/2 cup nuts, if desired

Then stir the wet ingredients into the dry ingredients/apples/nuts.

Spread into a greased [8 x 8”] cake pan and bake at 350 degrees for 30 to 40 minutes or until done.

And . . . think of Marie as you enjoy your cake.

------------------------------------------

ADDENDA: For the record, here are the two Southside/Munichburg homes that Marie lived in.

Marie's first Munichburg home was 208 W. Elm, on the same block where my grandma grew up (at 215 and 220 W. Elm) and where my grandma and grandpa lived once they were married (at 224 W. Elm). Here's what Marie's girlhood home, 208 W. Elm, looked like in August 2007.

In the picture below (from Google Map's Street View, ca. 2021), Marie's girlhood home, 208 W. Elm, is the brick house at the right. Grandma's home (224 W. Elm) is the white-stucco house at far left. Today, only 224, 220, and 218 remain standing on that side of the block. I think 208 was razed sometime last year (2023). It was the last house on that end of the block to go. Being brick, it was the sturdiest. (I don't remember the demolition; Sue says I might have been in Columbia that day; the razing crew made quick work of it.)

Marie and her husband, Clay, lived at 112 W. Atchison, within easy walking distance from Elm Street. Here's what it looks like today, again with Google Street View, as of July 2023.

One more bit of information: Dad says that Marie's parents were from Cole Camp, Missouri. Her maiden name was Weigand. Dad says she also has Lumpe ancestors, too. Which is kind of interesting, since Dad and I will be at Cole Camp in April doing a talk at that community's Plattdeutsch club! Maybe one of Marie's relatives will be there.

Grandma Renner’s Apple and Raisin Stuffing

Only a week before Thanksgiving! Have you decided on all your recipes yet? I’d like to recommend my Grandma Renner’s Apple and Raisin Stuffing!

This may be Germanic, or it may not. It is, however, THE BEST DRESSING for Thanksgiving turkey. Everyone in the Renner family agrees!

Seriously, it’s an old-fashioned favorite, and not just with my family, either. I’ve got nothing against Stove Top stuffing (though it often “tastes of box.”) But it can’t hold a candle to homemade. And the sweet-savory combination of apples, onions, raisins, and celery is just what poultry wants, in the fall.

I’m actually providing you with four slightly different renditions of it. Because it’s a stuffing, it’s not rocket science. Each family member who has made it has altered it slightly, and I find that intensely interesting. I doubt that even Grandma made it the same way all the time.

So here is what I present below:

1. The recipe that I’ve transcribed from a handwritten copy by my grandma, Clara Renner.
2. The same recipe as Grandma’s, but with comments and suggestions by me, and presented in a more standard recipe format (I suggest you use this one, but of course I’m biased).
3. A version of the recipe apparently handwritten by Grandma, that had been tucked into one of her sister’s cookbooks.

4. My mom’s version of the recipe, from Mom’s recipe cards.
5. My Aunt Sally’s handwritten version of the recipe—which my cousin David uses.

It’s interesting to note that Grandma Renner didn’t care very much for turkey, so she much preferred to have chicken at Thanksgiving instead. And yeah, we often had chicken at Thanksgiving. This stuffing is great with both!

“Dressing for Turkey”: Clara Renner’s Stuffing

1 loaf bread cut into cubes and toasted in oven [...] then put in large mixing bowl or pan. Cut up about 4 stalks celery, 1 large onion, 3 apples sliced as for pies, 1 cup raisins, cover with enough water so as not to burn and cook this until almost tender, sprinkle with black pepper and a little poultry seasoning about the same amount as pepper and add about 1 tablespoon salt, pour this over the bread crumbs and add 2 unbeaten eggs and mix well, do not pack dressing in fowl too tight. Put some of the dressing [...] top of chicken. If you have any of the dressing left over, spoon or ladle some of the juice out of the bottom of the baking pan when the poultry is about done and stir this juice with the left over dressing and bake in one of your Pyrex baking dishes with lid on, take the lid off when about done to brown the top a bit.

_____

When baking any kind of fowl sprinkle the inside and outside with salt, pepper and poultry seasoning then put in baking pan and add a cup of water in bottom of pan to help to keep it moist. It is best to bake a hen at 325 for about 2½ hrs, then uncover and bake to brown on all sides until tender.

Edited Version of the Above (Julie Schroeder, presumptuous editor)

1 loaf bread [e.g., country white] cut into [½ to ¾ inch] cubes and toasted in oven [yes, until they turn golden brown]
4 stalks celery, chopped [I’d use the tender inside parts, with leaves]
1 large onion, chopped [white or yellow]
3 apples [peeled and] sliced as for pies [Jonathan was Grandma Renner’s go-to apple for pies; I think Granny Smith or other firm, tart, flavorful baking apple would work well, too]
1 cup raisins
water [or chicken or turkey stock, or liquid from cooking giblets; or milk, per Sally Renner’s version]
black pepper
poultry seasoning [such as McCormick’s, which is a blend of thyme, sage, marjoram, rosemary, black pepper, and nutmeg]
1 tablespoon salt
2 unbeaten eggs [lightly beaten, no doubt; apparently can be omitted, per Pat Schroeder’s version]

[You can make all of the stuffing/dressing in a baking dish, instead of stuffing it into the fowl. To my recollection, no one actually stuffed the turkey or chicken from the 1970s and on. People were concerned about it not getting cooked through and being a health hazard.]

Spread toasted bread cubes into large baking dish [such as a 9 x 13 inch baking pan] [and set aside].

In a saucepan or skillet, mix together celery, onion, apples, and raisins; cover with [or just “add”?] enough water [or stock] to keep from burning, and cook until almost tender. [OR: I suggest using a stick of margarine or butter, in a frying pan, to sauté the celery, onion, raisins, and apples; see other versions of this recipe.] Add black pepper, poultry seasoning, and salt. [Use plenty of seasonings, but take into account the saltiness of the water, stock, or other liquid you will use.]

Combine vegetable mixture and eggs [if using]; pour onto bread cubes in baking dish, and mix well. Adjust moisture with [stock or] poultry juices [or milk or whatever]. Bake at 350, covered, until about done, then remove lid to allow top to brown.

“Clara’s Apple and Raisin Dressing”

This version was on a piece of note paper stuck in Great Aunt Lyd’s copy of Cooking with Faith (the ca. 1970 cookbook of Faith Lutheran Church, Jefferson City). I think it’s in Grandma Renner’s handwriting. Aunt Lyd was Grandma’s younger sister. Notice that this version doesn’t use eggs.

Cut up a large loaf of bread into squares and toast, put in big container. Peel and slice 4 jonathan apples, 4 big stems of celery, 1 large or 2 medium size onions, then add a heaping cup of raisins. Put into skillet 1 whole stick margarine then add these 4 things and cook a little until about tender, then pour into that 2 cans Campbell’s chicken broth, sprinkle a little salt and pepper over this and a little poultry seasoning and stir, then pour over the toasted bread crumbs, if it isn’t moist enough to dampen all the bread add a little water.

“Mom’s Dressing”

From Pat Schroeder, so “Mom” is Clara Renner. So this is another version of Clara Renner’s apple and raisin poultry stuffing. As Grandma grew older, Pat took on more of the Thanksgiving cooking duties, and she often prepped the dressing at home in Columbia, the day before Thanksgiving, or on Thanksgiving morning. Then she brought it to Grandma’s house to finish cooking. Pat’s quantity adjustments are in brackets.

Cube and toast 1 loaf of bread.
Peel and cut up 5 [3] apples
Peel and cut up 2 [1] large onions
Cut up 4 to 6 sticks of celery
1 cup raisins

In fry pan, 1 stick margarine. Sauté onion, apple, celery, and raisins until tender. Add 2 cans undiluted chicken broth. Add salt and pepper—let it cool a little. Then pour over and mix with bread crumbs.

[This would be put into a 9 x 13 inch baking dish (or spread around the turkey in the pan and the rest placed in a smaller baking dish), and cooked, covered, in a medium oven, until heated through; then the cover would be removed and the mixture allowed to brown and dry a bit. If using aluminum foil as a cover, I suggest spraying its bottom side lightly with PAM so it won’t stick to the top of the dressing.]

[Note that this version does not include eggs. In my opinion, the recipe is fine without eggs. Nor does it include poultry seasoning, though presumably poultry seasoning would be used on the fowl. —JS]

German Apple Dressing

This version of Clara Renner’s poultry stuffing/dressing is from Sally Renner, her daughter-in-law who lived in Wyoming. As her note at the end of the recipe says, it was her husband, Elwood’s favorite. So this is the version that my cousin David uses, since his mom gave him this recipe. If anyone loves this stuffing more than me, it might be David. He makes it every year. He usually cooks it inside the turkey, too.

Note that Sally recommends using milk for moisture, or a combination of milk and giblet-cooking water.

She also does not specify sautéing or otherwise cooking the celery, onions, apples, and raisins before combining them with the bread. In fact, you add the vegetable components to the dry bread mixture the night before; they cook as they’re in the bird. Or the dish.

Also, the recipe makes a smaller quantity of stuffing than the previous two, using a small loaf of bread, medium (not large) onion, only 2 apples, only ½ cup raisins, etc.

My comments in the recipe are in square brackets —JS.

1 small loaf of bread, toasted on a baking sheet until dry and lightly browned [sliced, then toasted in the oven; David uses a toaster to toast the bread slices].

1 med. sized onion, chopped
½ cup chopped celery and leaves
2 med. sized Jonathan or Winesap apples, pared and cored to make 3 cups chopped
½ cup raisins

Cut the toasted bread into cubes and salt and pepper to taste.

I then put this in the refrigerator to season overnight. [So: the seasoned, toasted bread cubes, chopped onion, celery, and apples, and raisins, all get mixed together and sit overnight.]

In the morning, take out and add:
2 eggs, lightly beaten,
2 cups milk [see below regarding combination of milk and giblet-cooking water]
½ cup melted oleo or butter

If you have boiled the giblets to put in gravy, the liquid from them may also be used instead of 2 cups milk, [so, for example,] use 1 cup milk and 1 cup liquid from giblets. You want the bread mixture to be soft, as too dry [of a] mixture will make the stuffing hard and dry after being baked. Pack loosely into turkey or chicken.

This is the recipe from Mom Renner, and was Elwood’s favorite. If you like you can add:
1/4 tsp. ground sage
1/4 tsp. poultry seasoning

Abundance; Wealth

Back in the eighties and nineties, I had a friend who was fairly hung up on the idea of “abundance,” or “wealth.” She devoured all those New Agey books on the subject—you know—the ones that say that we are all wealthy by our very God-natures, and if you really, truly believe you are wealthy, believe that you already are wealthy, and you believe it so much that you act like you are wealthy, then you will become wealthy.

There are a lot of problems with the circular reasoning in this scheme; the magic doesn’t “work” until you fully believe you are wealthy, and if you fully believe you are wealthy, then that’s that—mission accomplished! The problem, and the magic, is that wealth is a state of mind; it’s not a number.

Now, I’m not going to get into actual economics here—they are bleak for most people in the world, as the super-rich become ever more so, and the middle class drifts into peasantry. And yes, those doggone Wall Street financiers who crippled our economy should go to prison—or pay the amount of the bailout. But today I’m not talking about our ability to pay for the things we need.




What I’m talking about is the feeling of wealth, the sense of abundance.

It’s something I’ve felt since we returned from Ohio, and it’s something I see on Facebook when my friends share pictures of their tomato harvest (Rhoda!) or mention the quantity of fresh basil they harvested (Ginny!).

In Ohio, we visited Burnham Orchards, in Berlin Heights, famous for its fresh produce, which, in the fall . . . means apples!

You might remember me talking about “Lutheran Apples” last year about this time; well, because of storm damage to the Lexington/Waverly–area orchards (that area got a tornado the same day that Joplin got zapped), the local Lutherans’ annual fund-raiser sale of apples wasn’t held this year. So my folks didn’t buy ten million apples this fall and share ’em with us.

So this year, Sue and I turned the tables when we were at Burnham’s and purchased a half-bushel each of three different apples—golden delicious, Jonathan, and Cortland. And then we split them with my folks. It felt great to send them home with a big bunch of apples!




Oh yeah: Applesauce, baked apples, apple oat bran muffins, fried apples, apples in the stir-fries, apples in the salads, apples in the potatoes (Himmel und Erde!), apple fritters, apple dumplings, apple pancakes . . . joy!

Then also . . . while we were in Ohio, Sue’s sister and her family have a nice-sized planting of grapevines in their backyard. Concords! . . . And the vines were laden. Every time we raised a leaf, we saw a cluster of grapes.




Sue’s sister is recovering from a broken foot, so jelly-making is “out” for her this year. So she was saying to us, “Take all you want. Seriously! We’re not going to be using them. Here, let me get you some containers to put them in.”

Now, when we were in St. James, Missouri, a few weeks ago, we had bought some grapes at a roadside stand—I’d already measured, processed, and frozen them. It would be enough for about three pies. That should be enough till next fall.




So when Sue’s sister told us to pick as many as possible, my mind got to seesawing between thoughts like “how many times I’ve bought Concords at the store, and here she is, giving them away!” and all the ideas for what I can do with this windfall of lovely little purple globes: Grape pie, grape kuchen (traubenkuchen!), grape tart, grape preserves, grape jelly, grape muffins, grape pancake syrup . . .




So in addition to a bushel and a half of apples in our trunk, we also returned with more than a peck of fresh, beautiful Concords. You know how I feel about fruits; I adore them.

All the way home, the car smelled ambrosial!

. . . And I felt very wealthy, indeed.

If Bread Pudding and Apple Pie Had a Baby . . .

. . . They’d name her Betty. —Apple Brown Betty, that is!

Remember when I was telling you about our abundance of apples, and how, in order to use them before they get soft, I’ll have to become the “George Washington Carver of apples”? (Click here to get that story.)

Well, it turns out that I don’t need to become the George Washington Carver of apples! Know why?

’Cause there are already a ton of lovely apple recipes out there! I mean: Duh!

It would be very hard, I think, to come up with a truly novel way of cooking apples.

However, it’s not hard to find apple recipes that don’t seem to be used very often. Take, for instance, Apple Brown Betty.




I think that recipe used to be ubiquitous—an easy dish made by girls in their home ec classes. A quick, satisfying dessert made by every homemaker, wife, and mother from the 1920s to the—

—Well, when did folks quit making it? I grew up in the 1970s and I honestly don’t recall anyone making this—not my mom, not my grandmas, not my friends’ moms—no one.

And Sue says she doesn’t think she’s ever had it, either—and she’s from a different part of the Midwest, and is slightly older than me. But we’ve both heard of it.

It’s in so many cookbooks! And all the ladies our moms’ age know about it. What’s the deal? Did everyone just get sick of it at some point? Or is it that apple pies and other desserts got so easy to make, what with premixed and prepared pie crusts and all?

(Well, or maybe we’ve had it and not noticed—maybe it’s just not all that memorable?)

So, heck, with all our apples to eat, I had to satisfy my curiosity and make an Apple Brown Betty.

I mean, I kind of feel sorry for her. Like the name “Betty” itself, the dish seems out of style, like it “peaked” in the thirties and forties and got trapped by its own popularity. (This can happen to popular songs, too. Is anyone ready yet to hear “Afternoon Delight” or “On the Road Again” again? I didn’t think so!)

The recipe came from my Aunt Anna Mae. (Note that she, too, has one of those wonderful names that’s being eschewed by today’s baby-namers, one of those fun fifties “poodle-skirt names,” like Patty Lou, Peggy Ann, Sally Fay, Mary Jo, and Dorothy Jean.)

One more note: Apple Brown Betty isn’t the belle of the ball, the prettiest of desserts, but if you dust some powdered sugar or drizzle some crème fraîche on her, it will dress her up quite a bit!




Apple Brown Betty


Preheat oven to 375 degrees.

Grease loaf pan or 8-inch square baking pan.

Add hot water to cover 1/2 cup raisins, and let them soak. (The raisins are optional, however.)

Toast 4 slices of bread, then cube them.

Peel and slice 8 tart/sweet apples.

Blend 1 cup sugar with 1 teaspoon cinnamon.

Mix together the bread cubes, apples, and drained raisins.

Add 3/4 of the sugar-cinnamon mixture to the apples and stir to blend well.

Pack into baking dish and dot with 1/2 stick of butter or margarine (diced).

Top with remaining sugar-cinnamon mixture and bake for about 1 hour.

Oh, yeah: And keep an eye on her, so she doesn’t become “Over-brown Betty”!

Lutheran Apples

One of the reasons I'm such a huge fan of autumn is that it's the season for apples. You already know I have a "thing" for fruits, and apples are the king of fruits in our country. Apple pie. Applesauce. Apple juice, which is a common sweetener for nearly everything, such as juices that claim to be "100 percent fruit juice" but need sweetening anyway.

But this time of year, especially, we think of hot cider and of caramel apples. And bobbing for apples! --That's only done at Halloween parties, right? And personally, I think of going on a nice, long hike, and carrying an apple in my jacket pocket. You know what I mean--those days when you think, "Life can't get much better than this."




We just received a big bunch of apples from my mom, who received a much bigger bunch of apples from the Lutherans here in Jeff City. There's a new parochial school--Calvary Lutheran High School--and they're raising funds for constructing their own building.

Mom told me that Principal Erich Ahlers personally helped load the apples into her car.

Where did the apples come from? It turns out that Christine Hollingsworth (nee Rasa), the mother of a recent CLHS graduate, has family in Lexington, Missouri, who are apple growers. (Lexington, by the way, has a fascinating history--plus it is perhaps the state's oldest and largest apple-growing region.)

Hollingsworth's grandparents, Robert and Laura Rasa, founded Rasa Orchards in 1933, and the orchards are now being run by three of their five children. They have a retail market open during both peach and apple seasons. Their apple market will be open through November. But call first; see comment #1 below. (Suddenly, a trip to Lexington for history and apples sounds like a great idea, doesn't it!)

So naturally the school has an annual apple sale. They take orders around early October, and the apples arrive about the middle of October.

The Lutheran school sells 'em by the bushel, half-bushel, or peck, and this year they offered five varieties: Granny Smith, Fuji, Golden Delicious, Red Delicious, and Jonathan. I don't think they're organic--so it's not a perfect world--but they are lovely apples, not banged up and bruised, and absolutely fresh.

They were also selling pints and quarts of apple butter, so you don't have to stand around a backyard campfire all day, pushing a big sassafras spoon around a copper kettle full of apple mush. So convenient!

Mom, who is basically "once a Lutheran, always a Lutheran," got a half-bushel each of Jonathans, Fujis, and Golden Delicious. Whoa! I think they must be making bushels a lot bigger than they used to. That's a lot of apples for Mom and Dad to eat on their own! . . . So they share. My parents are incredibly generous.




I'm excited about it. I put a bunch of them into a nice basket out on the back porch--just because they look pretty. They look delicious out there. I can stand in the kitchen, doing dishes, and look out the window, and there they are, smiling at me, those luscious apples.

But it is a bit of a challenge--a glorious challenge--to find ways to enjoy them before they get tired and brown. Fortunately, apples lend themselves to all sorts of applications, sweet and savory. I can make a kuchen. They can disappear into bread. They can go into a stir-fry. Ever make "Himmel und Erde"? It is exciting to think of the possibilities. I shall become the George Washington Carver of apples!

What a hardship!

What a treat!


P.S. Oct. 25: I've amended this post slightly, since Christine Hollingsworth set me straight on some of my facts. Thank you, Christine! And best regards to the CLHS community!

Apple Chutney

Hey, folks, it’s a new month, and I feel free as a bird! Well, okay, at least free enough to tell you about recipes that don’t have anything to do with German cooking! (Yeah, I’m still learning about this blog-stuff. I make plans and rules, and then I want to break them.)

The following recipe is lifted from Indobase.com, and I made it recently to go with a lovely dinner I made of saag (cooked spinach with ginger and spices), chawal (rice), and some vegetable and paneer tikka masala (a curry with vegetable and homemade Indian cheese).

Why apple chutney? . . . Because my folks just gave us about a bushel of Jonathans, and they can’t all go into pies!

I’ve put the recipe into my own words and changed just a few things (like saying “powdered cayenne” instead of “red chili powder”). To see the original recipe, please go to this page.




One more note: My goodness, this is really, really good! I recommend serving it this Thanksgiving as a relish, either hot or cold. It seems like it would be fantastic with turkey, or nestled up against some cooked sweet potatoes.

Or you could dip tortilla chips into it . . .

Sue likes it, too. She says, “If you’ve never had a chutney, this would be a good one to introduce you to what chutneys are like. It’s so much like applesauce, it’s kind of familiar. And yet there are so many other things in there—including a little bit of heat—you’ll be thinking ‘Man, this is good!’”

She’s right—it’s not too far away from good ol’ applesauce. There are other apple chutney recipes that contain onions and such that would be a little more of a stretch for the American palate. But this should appeal to just about anyone.

Apple Chutney
recipe shamelessly adapted from Indobase.com

3 apples (cooking type, like Jonathans)
1 Tbsp. olive oil
seeds of 1 green cardamom pod, crushed and ground
2 bay leaves
2 cinnamon sticks
1/4 tsp. turmeric
1 tsp. powdered cayenne
1 tsp. coriander powder
4–5 tsp. sugar
salt to taste

Peel and chop the apples into small pieces. Place in a food processor and grind with a little water.

In a saucepan, heat the olive oil. Add cardamom, bay leaves, and cinnamon sticks and heat for a few moments to bring out flavors of spices.

Add the apples, turmeric, cayenne, and coriander, and cook for a few minutes. Add the sugar and salt, and cook another minute or so.

Can serve hot or cold as a relish.

Celebrate German Heritage Recipe #4: Mom’s Fried Apples

I cannot believe it when I talk to people and they haven’t ever had fried apples. Good lord, what they’re missing!

Here’s the deal: This is something to have with pork. Pork chops, or little round patties of cooked pork sausage (you know, like out of those tubes of R.B. Rice or Jimmy Dean, both owned by engulf-and-devour megacorporation Sara Lee). I have to say our family is rather partial to the R.B. Rice, medium.

To complete the culinary Trinity, you need some form of potatoes: fried, mashed, or simply boiled, whatever. Chips, if you’re hard up.

Pork + fried apples + potatoes = yummy dinner. Mustard with the pork sausage is optional. Add green vegetables or a salad ad libitum.

Mom fixed this dinner a lot for us when I was a kid.

(Thanks, Mom!)

Mom’s Fried Apples

Cut 4-5 medium cooking apples (such as Jonathans) into slices. [Red apples look better, cooked, than green ones.]

Put the apple slices into a skillet on top of 4 or 5 pieces of margarine (about 2 tablespoons).

Cook on medium or medium-low heat and cover.

As the butter starts to cook, stir the apples around and get them coated.

They’ll steam a little bit. Check on them every once in a while; stir gently. You don’t want them to get too soft.

When they’re cooked, take off the lid and leave it off. Sprinkle on some cinnamon and about 1/3 c. sugar. Stir gently, so as not to break the apple pieces.

Serves 2-3 people as a side dish.

Celebrate German Heritage Recipe #2: Apfelkuchen

Oh, man, there’s a whole world of great German desserts out there, and even just the “kuchens” come in all varieties and forms. (Well, that’s not surprising, when you consider that kuchen means “cake,” and of course we have ten thousand types of cakes—sheet cakes, pancakes, crab cakes, coffee cakes, ice cream cakes, rice cakes, etc.)

So there are a ton of different ways to make “apfelkuchen,” or “apple cake”; this is just one version—but I think you’ll like it.

It’s a nice, easy, little apple cake recipe from my Grandma Schroeder’s best friend in the whole wide world, her crony from early girlhood through their entire lives, Marie (Weigand) Korsmeyer, born February 19, 1904.

Their friendship resembled a “Lucy and Ethel” relationship in some ways; it was beautiful, lively, fun-filled, and true. I think whenever their shenanigans ended with “trouble,” they generally wound up having a good laugh over it.

Grandma and Marie were practically sisters, growing up together here on Elm Street; to my dad and his brothers, Marie was another aunt. And to me, she was in the same category as my great aunts Minnie and Esther, and cousin Marguerite, in that same age group . . . No family get-together was complete without Marie’s cackling laughter.

She passed away on October 4, 1999—almost exactly ten years ago. Hard to believe we’ve been this long without her. (*Sigh.*)




. . . Okay, back to Marie’s apple cake. Notice that the recipe calls for two cups of apples and one cup of flour—so get a sharp knife and chop the apples finely. Indeed, this cake can be rather crumbly because of all the yummy apple in it.

I also recommend blending all the dry ingredients separately before adding the apples and nuts; also, I suggest mixing the vanilla in with the sugar-shortening-egg mixture, since it’s a “wet” ingredient.

The batter is pretty stiff, sticky, and relatively dry, but not to worry—the apples will provide moisture while this bakes. To spread the batter out in the pan, try wettening your hands with some water and using them to pat and smooth the surface.

It will get a little crisp on top; it’s done when the edges start pulling away from the pan and a toothpick comes out clean. You know.

This is an excellent coffee cake as well as a yummy dessert. For the latter, consider serving it hot, à la mode, and perhaps garnished with a bit of cinnamon sugar, or nutmeg, or powdered sugar.

Marie’s Apple Cake
from Marie Korsmeyer

Blend:

1 cup sugar
1/4 cup shortening
1 egg

Add:

2 cups apples, cut fine
1 cup flour
1 tsp. baking powder
1 tsp. vanilla
1 tsp. cinnamon
1/4 tsp. nutmeg
1/4 to 1/2 cup nuts, if desired

Spread into a greased [8 x 8”] cake pan and bake at 350 degrees for 30 to 40 minutes or until done.