- Created on 2/16/10 by hbrody

When Shakespeare summoned up “remembrance of things past,” he no doubt had loftier visions in mind than a bowl of applesauce. Well, that was his loss, but not mine. My younger days, when time seemed to proceed at a more measured pace, fall meant a heaping bowl full of just that- applesauce – freshly made steaming and fragrant.The scent of apples as they simmered on the stove, later to be complemented with sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg and lemon peel, spread through the house beckoning my three brothers and I to the kitchen faster than a freshly baked pizza would today. The... read more