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Making Apple Butter
Once he got the fire good and hot,
Old Silas filled the kettle with some cider;
and when it boiled down to golden amber,
he added quartered apples to the pot.
He settled in his chair beside the fire
on this, a mild day for late September,
and watched the apples cook ‘til they were tender.
There wasn’t too much else that they’d require,
except a heap of sugar and some spice.
He stirred it round about a half a day,
but wouldn’t have it any other way;
and as it cooled, he thought about how nice
the butter’d be on biscuits, bread, and cake,
fresh from the oven on a wintry, bitter night.
He topped the jars with wax and sealed them tight,
then got his gear and headed to the lake;
but fishing proved a heck-of-a-lot harder
than settin’ apple butter in the larder!
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Cheryl Corey is a Connecticut poet. She is also an author of short stories, a novella, and recently completed a novel.
Cheryl:
This poem is such a delicious way to start the day! Great topic. Well done!
Thanks Russel. Too many skills and crafts have become lost; for example, my mother remembers her grandmother making her own butter.
Yum sweet taste of poetry in the morning.
Cheryl, if food prices continue to jump, I think the old skills will continue to re-emerge, as in your delicious poem which I much enjoyed.
As for me, I’m looking around for a daisy churn in which to make butter . All you need is some heavy, leathery cream skimmed from the pans of milk you’ve pasteurized the night before. Easiest thing in the world – 20 minutes, a good right arm and a cow will do the trick !
Thanks again, Cheryl. Those were the days, not so long ago, when men made their own hard cider, and roasted a possum for dinner !
In the olden days of New England, cider was always a must to sustain people over the winter. I like a little hard cider myself on occasion.
Full of atmosphere, nostalgia, a unique topic, and a humorous ending.
Top marks, to Cheryl and Silas!
An ambrosial apple-butter delight of a poem that serves as a poetic recipe for culinary heaven!! Delicious!
Colloquial irregular rhyme scheme that nonetheless provides an echo for the end of every line. The simple joys of country life and autumn cookery just glow! Apple butter takes patience; because we want to eat the results right away, we make apple sauce with Cointreau orange liqueur rather than cider. A good way to mix apples and oranges that doesn’t need sugar.
I loved your poem! What have we lost in our techno-addicted world? Certainly, the simplicity of the old world. But also the meaning and purpose that comes from duty and responsibility. I think we had a deeper fulfillment because we made things with our hands. We grew things and ate them. We shared with our neighbors. I bet Old Silas knew simple doesn’t mean less it means more.
Your flirtations with rhyme add zest to a jaded palate. I can remember apple butter as it’s meant to be: rendered thick and dense with spices. Thanks for sending me back to my senses.
You’re most welcome, C.B.
Cheryl, your mouth-watering poem makes me wish I’d tried apple butter. I do fondly recall lemon butter though.
Lovely poem, Cheryl. Reminds me of E. A. Robinson at his best. I can almost smell the spicy concoction. And a clever twist at the end.
Not being familiar with Robinson, your comment makes me want to read his work.
Cheryl,
You painted the scene so artfully so that I wished I could join old Silas on that lovely September day! Since that’s not possible, I’ll have to settle for making a batch of apple butter for myself (though it won’t be quite as picturesque thickening on the stovetop)… Thanks for sharing this mouthwatering poem!
Cheryl,
I just read Making Apple Butter.
Now I am craving the taste, the smell, the process.
You took me downhome. I have people in Kentucky that still cook and can a variety of foods. They often send them to me in Detroit. I feel as if you have sent me some delicious words.