We got a little overexcited at the apple orchard, which left me with a bushel and a peck of apples, which, in modern measurements, translates to a Half a Metric Cubic Shitload.  This meant a lot of applesauce, because our Squirrel, now 2, subsists on the stuff.
It was, sadly, more than my beloved apple corer/slicer could stand, and the handle snapped right off. Â Which makes me lucky to live with this guy.
(Yes, I know, I’ve been gone for a year and instead of updating you on huge gardening and canning success, nor the introduction of pigs and goats and an additional 13 acres of land on which to enjoy these things, I’ve returned to a sad elegy to my dog and a vertical video.  Sit tightly on your hands, remaining two readers!)
Make that remaining three readers. Unless I was one of the two…
My grandma taught me to make applesauce by just chunking the apples, peels/core and all, cooking down, then running through a Foley foodmill. (The only time she peeled apples was if she was making apple jelly, which is made from the skins. For extra special added bonus, the skins contain their own pectin, so all you have to add is sugar.)
You realize, of course, that once you have put up Half a Metric Cubic Shitload of applesauce, the Squirrel, now 2, will immediately develop a deep and abiding hatred of applesauce and never touch the stuff again…