Applesauce Quotes

Well, art is art, isn't it? Still, on the other hand, water is water! And east is east and west is west and if you take cranberries and stew them like applesauce they taste much more like prunes than rhubarb does. Now, uh... now you tell me what you know.

Life is not orderly. No matter how we try to make it so, right in the middle of it we die, lose a leg, fall in love, or drop a jar of applesauce.

A child isn't a symbol, it's a child! It needs applesauce and, and, and playpens and an ass-load of other things we can't provide while we're on the goddamn lam! Just to be clear. Your exact words to me were: "Please shoot it in my twat." Yeah. I know.

Every morning the maple leaves. Every morning another chapter where the hero shifts from one foot to the other. Every morning the same big and little words all spelling out desire, all spelling out You will be alone always and then you will die. So maybe I wanted to give you something more than a catalog of non-definitive acts, something other than the desperation. Dear So-and-So, I’m sorry I couldn’t come to your party. Dear So-and-So, I’m sorry I came to your party and seduced you and left you bruised and ruined, you poor sad thing. You want a better story. Who wouldn’t? A forest, then. Beautiful trees. And a lady singing. Love on the water, love underwater, love, love and so on. What a sweet lady. Sing lady, sing! Of course, she wakes the dragon. Love always wakes the dragon and suddenly flames everywhere. I can tell already you think I’m the dragon, that would be so like me, but I’m not. I’m not the dragon. I’m not the princess either. Who am I? I’m just a writer. I write things down. I walk through your dreams and invent the future. Sure, I sink the boat of love, but that comes later. And yes, I swallow glass, but that comes later. Let me do it right for once, for the record, let me make a thing of cream and stars that becomes, you know the story, simply heaven. Inside your head you hear a phone ringing and when you open your eyes only a clearing with deer in it. Hello deer. Inside your head the sound of glass, a car crash sound as the trucks roll over and explode in slow motion. Hello darling, sorry about that. Sorry about the bony elbows, sorry we lived here, sorry about the scene at the bottom of the stairwell and how I ruined everything by saying it out loud. Especially that, but I should have known. Inside your head you hear a phone ringing, and when you open your eyes you’re washing up in a stranger’s bathroom, standing by the window in a yellow towel, only twenty minutes away from the dirtiest thing you know. All the rooms of the castle except this one, says someone, and suddenly darkness, suddenly only darkness. In the living room, in the broken yard, in the back of the car as the lights go by. In the airport bathroom’s gurgle and flush, bathed in a pharmacy of unnatural light, my hands looking weird, my face weird, my feet too far away. I arrived in the city and you met me at the station, smiling in a way that made me frightened. Down the alley, around the arcade, up the stairs of the building to the little room with the broken faucets, your drawings, all your things, I looked out the window and said This doesn’t look that much different from home, because it didn’t, but then I noticed the black sky and all those lights. We were inside the train car when I started to cry. You were crying too, smiling and crying in a way that made me even more hysterical. You said I could have anything I wanted, but I just couldn’t say it out loud. Actually, you said Love, for you, is larger than the usual romantic love. It’s like a religion. It’s terrifying. No one will ever want to sleep with you. Okay, if you’re so great, you do it— here’s the pencil, make it work … If the window is on your right, you are in your own bed. If the window is over your heart, and it is painted shut, then we are breathing river water. Dear Forgiveness, you know that recently we have had our difficulties and there are many things I want to ask you. I tried that one time, high school, second lunch, and then again, years later, in the chlorinated pool. I am still talking to you about help. I still do not have these luxuries. I have told you where I’m coming from, so put it together. I want more applesauce. I want more seats reserved for heroes. Dear Forgiveness, I saved a plate for you. Quit milling around the yard and come inside.

I want to fill a jar with a lot of clapping, and sell my applause next to the applesauce in a grocery store. You can eat the praise you didn’t earn, but did pay for.

Charley's "FOR THE LOVE OF": “Oh,FOR THE LOVE OF gravy” “Just be honest with me, FOR THE LOVE OF applesauce, Gemma.” “But FOR THE LOVE OF marinara, I typed, don’t shoot anyone.

LIFE IS NOT ORDERLY. No matter how we try to make life so, right in the middle of it we die, lose a leg, fall in love, drop a jar of applesauce.

I rushed us out of your parents' house because I didn't think I could manage two hours at the dinner table with everyone focused on Joe Loosey's joystick sitting in the refrigerator next to the applesauce.

I love you more than applesauce, than peaches and a plum, than chocolate hearts and cherry tarts and berry bubblegum. I love you more than lemonade and seven-layer cakes, than lollipops and candy drops and thick vanilla shakes. I love you more than marzipan, than marmalade on toast, oh, I love pies of any size, but I love YOU the most.

If you take cranberries and stew them like applesauce, they taste much more like prunes than rhubarb does.

Peanut butter, jelly, applesauce? Are you six? I grinned at him. He didn't smile back, though, just looked at me for a few beats as if considering my question. In some ways, yes, Bree. In other ways, no

Never knew Bannen could smell so good.' Edd's tone was morose as ever.'I had half a mind to carve a slice off him. If we had some applesauce, I might have done it. Pork's always best with applesauce, I find.' ... 'You best not die, Sam, or I fear I might succumb. There's bound to be more crackling on you than Bannen ever had,and I never could resist a bit of crackling.

Greetings from sunny Seattle, where women are “gals,” people are “folks,” a little bit is a “skosh,” if you’re tired you’re “logy,” if something is slightly off it’s “hinky,” you can’t sit Indian-style but you can sit “crisscross applesauce,” when the sun comes out it’s never called “sun” but always “sunshine,” boyfriends and girlfriends are “partners,” nobody swears but someone occasionally might “drop the f-bomb,” you’re allowed to cough but only into your elbow, and any request, reasonable or unreasonable, is met with “no worries.” Have I mentioned how much I hate it here?

Why, you poor dear!” the housekeeper exclaimed in concern. “What happened? I’ll fix you something right away.” As the two prepared a chicken sandwich, some cocoa, and Hannah cut a large slice of cinnamon cake over which she poured hot applesauce, Nancy told of her adventures.

If we didn’t feel there was something problematic with eating meat, dairy, and eggs in the first place, we wouldn’t have worked so hard to justify our behavior, we wouldn’t have tried so hard to avoid looking at the processes…Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know is not what we say when confronted with how carrots are harvested from the ground or how plums are plucked from trees. Don’t tell my children what they’re really eating. It would be too upsetting for them is not what we say when asked about how apples become applesauce. In all aspects of our life, guilt serves as a red flag that something isn’t right, tapping us on the shoulder to let us know we may have strayed from our principles or goals.

Rain makes applesauce. Oh, you're just talking silly talk!

Haikus are quite hard You always have to count them ...Chunky applesauce?

If you take cranberries and stew them like applesauce, they taste much more like prunes than rhubarb does.

crush up a little pink pill, mix it with some applesauce and feed her the spoonful.

Second of all, those fairy tales that you hear over and over and over again aren't even the REAL fairy tales. Has your teacher ever said to you, "Today, children, we're going to read a Cinderella story where the stepsisters cut off their toes and their heels with a butcher's knife! And then they get their eyes pecked out by birds! Ready? Is everyone sitting crisscross-applesauce?

There never was such a goose. Bob said he didn’t believe there ever was such a goose cooked. Its tenderness and flavour, size and cheapness, were the themes of universal admiration. Eked out by apple-sauce and mashed potatoes, it was a sufficient dinner for the whole family; indeed, as Mrs. Cratchit said with great delight (surveying one small atom of a bone upon the dish), they hadn’t ate it all at last!

DEAR MISS MANNERS: Should you tell your mother something if it is important when she is talking to company? I am six. GENTLE READER: Yes, you should (after saying "Excuse me"). Here are some of the things that are important to tell your mother, even though she is talking to company: "Mommy, the kitchen is full of smoke." "Daddy's calling from Tokyo." "Kristen fell out of her crib and I can't put her back." "There's a policeman at the door and he says he wants to talk to you." "I was just reaching for my ball, and the goldfish bowl fell over." Now, here are some things that are not important, so they can wait until your mother's company has gone home: "Mommy, I'm tired of playing blocks. What do I do now?" "The ice-cream truck is coming down the street." "Can I give Kristen the rest of my applesauce?" "I can't find my crayons." "When are we going to have lunch? I'm hungry.

My laboratory is a place where I write. I have become proficient at producing a rare species of prose capable of distilling ten years of work by five people into six published pages, written in a language that very few people can read and that no one ever speaks. This writing relates the details of my work with the precision of a laser scalpel, but its streamlined beauty is a type of artifice, a size-zero mannequin designed to showcase the glory of a dress that would be much less perfect on any real person. My papers do not display the footnotes that they have earned, the table of data that required painstaking months to redo when a graduate student quit, sneering on her way out that she didn’t want a life like mine. The paragraph that took five hours to write while riding on a plane, stunned with grief, flying to a funeral that I couldn’t believe was happening. The early draft that my toddler covered in crayon and applesauce while it was still warm from the printer. Although my publications contain meticulous details of the plants that did grow, the runs that went smoothly, and the data that materialized, they perpetrate a disrespectful amnesia against the entire gardens that rotted in fungus and dismay, the electrical signals that refused to stabilize, and the printer ink cartridges that we secured late at night through nefarious means. I

Two applesauce shots, please." I gaped at her. "Shots? God, what are we, in college?" She moved her wavy brown hair out of her eyes. "No, we don't have to be in college to have what I'm sure"- she looked at the bartender- "will be a fantastically prepared, perhaps overflowing shot." He laughed with a shake of his head. "You got it." "It's delicious," she said to me, "Goldschlager and something else. I don't remember. But it totally tastes like applesauce." "Why would anyone want to drink applesauce?" But I was already wondering if it could be reduced to a glaze for pork chops, and made a mental note to find out what was in it.

The garden flourished that summer because Magnus's mother was determined to feed her family despite the depredations of the distant war. In the fall, there were beans and tomatoes and pickles to can, and jar after jar of applesauce. Mama's hives yielded fresh honey, and then willow skeps were winterized. The bees would not come out until the air warmed and the sun appeared.

Hey, we should do a Sound of Music night!” “Sure,” I say. “This movie sounds terrible,” Kitty says. “What kind of name is Georg?” We ignore her. Daddy says, “Tonight? I’ll make tacos al pastor!” “I can’t,” I say. “I’m going over to Belleview.” “What about you, Kitty?” Daddy asks. “Sophie’s mom is teaching us how to make latke cakes,” Kitty says. “Did you know that you put applesauce on top of them and it’s delicious?” Daddy’s shoulders slump. “Yes, I did know that. I’m going to have to start booking you guys a month in advance.

Greetings from sunny Seattle, where women are “gals,” people are “folks,” a little bit is a “skosh,” if you’re tired you’re “logy,” if something is slightly off it’s “hinky,” you can’t sit Indian-style but you can sit “crisscross applesauce,” when the sun comes out it’s never called “sun” but always “sunshine,” boyfriends and girlfriends are “partners,” nobody swears but someone occasionally might “drop the f-bomb,” you’re allowed to cough but only into your elbow, and any request, reasonable or unreasonable, is met with “no worries.

Needless to say, cooking for a man with such a delicate palate can be challenging and every once in a while I like to make something that isn't served with a glass of milk and a side of applesauce. This can be difficult with a husband with such discriminating taste buds. Difficult, but not impossible, if you're willing to lie. Which I am.   During the winter months I love to make soups and one of my favorites is taco soup. It has all of the basic food groups in one bowl; meat, veggies, beans, and Fritos. It's perfection. I've been warming bodies and cleaning colons with this recipe for years. However, when I met my husband he advised he didn't like beans, so he couldn't eat taco soup. This was not the response I hoped for.   I decided to make it for him anyway. The first time I did I debated whether to add beans. I knew he wouldn't eat it if I did, but I also knew the beans were what gave it the strong flavor. I decided the only way to maintain the integrity of the soup was to sacrifice mine. I lied to him about the ingredients. Because my husband is not only picky but also observant, I knew I couldn't just dump the beans into the soup undetected. Rather, I had to go incognito. For that, I implored the use of the food processor, who was happy to accommodate after sitting in the cabinet untouched for years.   I dumped the cans of beans in the processor and pureed them into a paste. I then dumped the paste into the taco soup mixture, returning the food processor to the cabinet where it would sit untouched for another six months.   When it came time to eat, I dished out a heaping bowl of soup and handed it to my husband. We sat down to eat and I anxiously awaited his verdict, knowing he was eating a heaping bowl of deceit.   “This is delicious. What's in it?” he asked, in between mouthfuls of soup.   “It's just a mixture of taco ingredients,” I innocently replied, focusing on the layer of Fritos covering my bowl.   “Whatever it is, it's amazing,” he responded, quickly devouring each bite.   At that moment I wanted nothing more than to slap the spoon out of his hand and yell “That's beans, bitch!” However, I refrained because I'm classy (and because I didn't want to clean up the mess).

As I've stated before, there is no truth to the stories that Errol and Beverly spent two years of debauchery together. Their life was nothing like that. But it's easy to understand how stories of debauchery grew up around a man like Errol. Let me present an example. Once, while we were in New York, Errol and Beverly attended a party at a country estate. At the party were two other couples. They were all very good friends. During the course of the evening they went swimming. In the nude. Now to someone who wasn't there that party had all the marks of an orgy. But it wasn't like that a bit. Beverly later told me all about it. Errol, Beverly and his wealthy friends simply went swimming in the pool for a few minutes. And that was all there was to it. Nothing else happened. They weren't riotously drunk or mad with passion. It was an unconventional but casual swim. Afterward they got out, dressed and enjoyed some porkchops and applesauce together.

Caramel Apple Bundt Cake For people. Cake 1½ cups flour 1 cup pecans 2 teaspoons baking powder ½ teaspoon baking soda 1½ teaspoons cinnamon ¾ teaspoon nutmeg ¾ teaspoon cloves ¼ teaspoon salt 2 medium apples, peeled and cored ½ cup sugar + extra 1¼ sticks (10 tablespoons) butter at room temperature + extra for greasing the pan 1 cup packed dark brown sugar 2 large eggs at room temperature 1 cup applesauce Preheat oven to 350ºF. Place the flour, pecans, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, nutmeg, cloves, and salt in a food processor and pulse until the pecans are fine. Transfer the flour mixture to a bowl. Insert the grating disk and grate the apples. Take 1 tablespoon of sugar out of the plain sugar and set it aside. Cream the butter with the sugars. Beat in the eggs. Alternate adding the applesauce and the flour mixture until completely combined. Stir in the grated apples. Grease the Bundt pan liberally. Sprinkle the extra sugar on the butter. You may need another tablespoon of sugar for full coverage. Use a cooking spoon to ladle the batter into the Bundt pan and smooth the top. Bake 40 minutes or until it begins to pull away from the sides and a cake tester comes out clean. Allow to rest on a baking rack about 5 to 10 minutes. Loosen the edges, and flip onto the rack. When cool, top with caramel. Caramel 4 tablespoons unsalted butter 1 cup packed dark brown sugar ¼ cup heavy cream Place the ingredients in a deep microwave-safe dish (I used a 4-cup Pyrex measuring cup). Microwave in short bursts, stirring occasionally, until it bubbles up and the sugar melts. (You may find that you even like it if the sugar doesn’t melt!) Swedish Tea Ring For people.

Starting a little over a decade ago, Target began building a vast data warehouse that assigned every shopper an identification code—known internally as the “Guest ID number”—that kept tabs on how each person shopped. When a customer used a Target-issued credit card, handed over a frequent-buyer tag at the register, redeemed a coupon that was mailed to their house, filled out a survey, mailed in a refund, phoned the customer help line, opened an email from Target, visited Target.com, or purchased anything online, the company’s computers took note. A record of each purchase was linked to that shopper’s Guest ID number along with information on everything else they’d ever bought. Also linked to that Guest ID number was demographic information that Target collected or purchased from other firms, including the shopper’s age, whether they were married and had kids, which part of town they lived in, how long it took them to drive to the store, an estimate of how much money they earned, if they’d moved recently, which websites they visited, the credit cards they carried in their wallet, and their home and mobile phone numbers. Target can purchase data that indicates a shopper’s ethnicity, their job history, what magazines they read, if they have ever declared bankruptcy, the year they bought (or lost) their house, where they went to college or graduate school, and whether they prefer certain brands of coffee, toilet paper, cereal, or applesauce. There are data peddlers such as InfiniGraph that “listen” to shoppers’ online conversations on message boards and Internet forums, and track which products people mention favorably. A firm named Rapleaf sells information on shoppers’ political leanings, reading habits, charitable giving, the number of cars they own, and whether they prefer religious news or deals on cigarettes. Other companies analyze photos that consumers post online, cataloging if they are obese or skinny, short or tall, hairy or bald, and what kinds of products they might want to buy as a result.

Moist Oatmeal Apple Bread PREP TIME IS 10 MINUTES OR LESS You will want to wait until this tender, moist bread is completely cooled before slicing so the slices keep their shape, but the aroma will tempt you to cut it while it is still warm. This bread tastes wonderful topped with a tablespoon or two of almond butter. Add apple slices to a sandwich made with this bread for even more apple flavor. 8 SLICES / 1 POUND ½ cup milk, at 80°F to 90°F 2¾ tablespoons unsweetened applesauce, at room temperature 2 teaspoons melted butter, cooled 2 teaspoons sugar ⅔ teaspoon salt ¼ teaspoon ground cinnamon Pinch ground nutmeg 2¾ tablespoons quick oats 1½ cups white bread flour 1½ teaspoons bread machine or active dry yeast 12 SLICES / 1½ POUNDS ⅔ cup milk, at 80°F to 90°F ¼ cup unsweetened applesauce, at room temperature 1 tablespoon melted butter, cooled 1 tablespoon sugar 1 teaspoon salt ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon Pinch ground nutmeg ¼ cup quick oats 2¼ cups white bread flour 2¼ teaspoons bread machine or active dry yeast 16 SLICES / 2 POUNDS 1 cup milk, at 80°F to 90°F ⅓ cup unsweetened applesauce, at room temperature 4 teaspoons melted butter, cooled 4 teaspoons sugar 1⅓ teaspoons salt ¾ teaspoon ground cinnamon Pinch ground nutmeg ⅓ cup quick oats 3 cups white bread flour 2¼ teaspoons bread machine or active dry yeast 1. Place the ingredients in your bread machine as recommended by the manufacturer. 2. Program the machine for Basic/White bread, select light or medium crust, and press Start.

I guide Delia through the slaw: green cabbage with fennel and green apple and a light dressing of rice wine vinegar, sugar, lime juice, canola oil, and caraway seeds. Kai makes the butternut squash with applesauce, nutmeg, grains of paradise, and cinnamon. I work on a light pasta salad that I have been playing with, orecchiette pasta with white beans, chopped celery, green peas, and feta in red wine vinaigrette with fresh oregano. The case gets filled, Kai takes off, the doors get opened, and we begin to serve customers. While Delia takes a phone order, I head into the kitchen and take the brisket out of the oven. It is mahogany brown and juicy, and perfumes the kitchen immediately, the scent wafting out into the store. "What is that smell?" Delia says, eyes closing, inhaling deeply. "That, is hope," I say.

Dr. Meyers is in surgery at the moment.” She reached for a piece of paper and wrote the hospital phone number on it and handed it to me through the little hole. “You can call back during regular business hours and leave a message with his secretary if you’d like.” She spoke to me as if I were either a child or a crazy person. “Okay.” I took the piece of paper and walked out of the sliding glass doors, staring at the paper in my hands in disbelief. Had she called him? I wondered. Did he tell her to say that to me? There was no way, I thought. I shuffled back to Nate’s truck, still freezing. I turned it on and cranked up the heater and then I cried, that pathetic type of crying like when you pee your pants in kindergarten and you’re filled with a mixture of shame and regret for holding it so long. Then, when everyone starts laughing at your wet jeans, you get angry and want to scream Screw all of you! After the kids stop laughing, you never want to see them again because you’re the only kindergartener who ever peed her pants on the story rug while Ms. Alexander read The Giving Tree for the twelfth time. Everyone else was sitting crisscross applesauce while you were fidgeting about, trying to hold it until the end of the story when the teacher asked what the moral was so you could say, “It’s about being generous to your friends,” even though, later in life, you learn the story is really about a selfish little bastard who sucked the life out of the only thing that gave a shit about him. But you never got the chance for your shining moment because you peed on the story rug, got laughed at, then cried pathetic tears. Not that that happened to me . . .

RECIPE FOR APPLESAUCE SPICE CAKE WITH MAPLE FROSTING OR CREAM CHEESE FROSTING CAKE 2½ cups all-purpose flour or cake flour 1 teaspoon salt ¼ teaspoon baking powder 1½ teaspoons baking soda ¾ teaspoon cinnamon ½ teaspoon allspice ½ teaspoon cloves 1¾ cups sugar (scant) 1½ cups unsweetened applesauce ½ cup water ½ cup unsalted butter 2 eggs ½ cup chopped walnuts (optional) ¾ cup raisins (optional) Preheat oven to 350°F. Butter and flour two 8" or two 9" round cake pans or one 9"x13" pan. Mix first 7 dry ingredients in medium bowl. Blend sugar, applesauce, butter, eggs and water in large

Fruits of peace studies Eva passes Adam a pear he curses her you dumb cow it's supposed to be an apple he says Eva doubles over laughing and Adam threatens her with a banana he says if you don't stop laughing he will bonk her on the pear with his banana this was the first marital spat between those joined by God afterwards they took a footbath together in the river and plucked one another berries straight from the bush into the mouth right where they sat looking into the heavens contentedly at peace and bicker-weary Adam passes Eva a handful of applesauce the day after he made this just for her he says and she rubs the applesauce all over her body Adam's eyeballs grow large Adam's applesauce strolls over Eva's body wanders its way right inside Eva's body and she senses the first wandering song coming on while she sings, Adam strolls his way around on her body and so they both come and so they go

ah, yes, Ian Rivers's phone number. I'll ask around" "It's the least you can do, since when I hang up the phone, I'm going to have to probably slip Katherine a crushed-up sedative in some applesauce just to make it through the day. I don't prefer to drug my friends, Winnie

The boys, who had had no time to prepare any homework, reminded their father that a note from him to the principal would be a great help. The detective smiled, and as soon as they reached home he wrote one out, then said good night. Frank and Joe felt as if their eyes had hardly closed when they opened them again to see their father standing between their beds. “Time to get up if you want to be in on the search,” he announced. The boys blinked sleepily, then sprang out of bed. Showers awakened them fully and they dressed quickly. Mrs. Hardy was in the kitchen when they entered it and breakfast was ready. The sun was just rising over a distant hill. “Everything hot this morning,” Mrs. Hardy said. “It’s chilly outside.” The menu included hot applesauce, oatmeal, poached eggs on toast, and cocoa. Breakfast was eaten almost in silence to avoid any delay, and within twenty minutes the three Hardy sleuths were on their way.

that moment, he shook his head. “Come on. You can’t fool me.” Isaac managed to spit out the truth. His brother’s mocking laughter filled the air. “Cinnamon buns? You looked all”—Andrew lowered his lids halfway and assumed a dreamy expression. “D-did not.” “Jah, you did.” In a falsetto voice, Andrew warbled, “Ach, Sovilla, you are the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen.” He exhaled a long, shuddery breath. For the first time in his life, Isaac longed to punch his brother in the stomach. How dare he make fun of Sovilla! And of the tender feelings Isaac held for her. Andrew laughed. “You look like Mamm’s teakettle.” Huh? “All steamed.” With a snicker, he danced out of Isaac’s reach. That was probably for the best. Isaac would never forgive himself if he hit his twin. But he needed to find a way to get these feelings under control. If even remembering her cinnamon rolls made him as dreamy eyed as his brother said, he had to erase Sovilla from his mind. Yet the harder he tried, the more it proved impossible. In fact, he woke at dawn on Thursday hungering for cinnamon rolls and a glimpse of the angel who baked them. Her name replayed as a lilting melody. Sovilla, Sovilla, Sovilla. Had he ever heard a prettier name? Or seen a lovelier face? At breakfast, he missed his plate when he dished out scrambled eggs and almost knocked over his glass of milk when he tried to scoop up the slippery mess. “Goodness, Isaac, what’s gotten into you this morning?” Mamm peered at him over the top of her glasses. “Don’t mind him, Mamm. He’s in love.” Andrew sang the last word. Daed’s stern glance sobered Andrew, but everyone else stared at Isaac. He shook his head and lowered his gaze to his plate. “Leave your brother alone.” Mamm passed a bowl of applesauce. “Eat up so you won’t be late to market.” To Isaac’s relief, Daed turned the conversation to a new brand of chicken feed he’d heard about at the market. Mamm asked questions, and his brothers and sisters concentrated on eating. In his eagerness to see Sovilla again, Isaac practically inhaled his breakfast. Once they reached the auction, he waited impatiently for a chance. He intended to slip off without being noticed, but Andrew spied him and Snickers edging in the direction of the market. “Bet you’re going to get a cinnamon bun, right?” His brother waggled his eyebrows. “I’m hungry for one too.” Pinching his lips together as Andrew walked beside him, Isaac stewed.

As much as I really wanted to give the judges my take on gefilte fish (which was and is SO much better than that slimy, mealy garbage you get in the jar), obviously, that wasn't going to work for a vegetarian challenge. So what did I have up my----latkes! Of course. I hadn't made latkes yet. And I could easily gussy them up. I made an excellent version with parsnips to go with the normal potatoes and onions. I could make a fancy cream to complement it, and homemade cranberry applesauce, and make sure the edges were perfectly lacy and crisp...

I opened the bag, and the scent of apples, sweet and ripe, wafted up. They were brown and shriveled and resting in a Pyrex bowl. The sight was incongruent with the wonderful fragrant smell. "I have a fantastic tree, cooking apples really---too tart to eat. But I freeze a lot. Jane mentioned last week that she loved applesauce, so I defrosted my last batch for her. They make the best applesauce I've ever had." "Thanks." "Do you know how to make applesauce?" "I can figure it out." "It's super easy; just add sugar and stew them over a low heat." And cinnamon? You should also add nutmeg or a little chili, but not too much.

Just know, if you piss me off, I can use these beaters on your crotch and turn your dick into straight up applesauce.

Just know, if you piss me off, I can use these beaters on your crotch and turn your dick into straight up applesauce.” “What . . . the fuck?

Boys go to Jupiter to get more stupider, Girls go to college to get more knowledge. Crisscross, applesauce, I hate boys!

Wheat Blueberry Muffins   Ingredients required   1 1/2 cups flour (whole wheat) 1 pint blueberries (fresh) 1 egg 1/2 cup apple sauce (unsweetened) 1/3 cup fresh milk 1/3 cup oil (vegetable oil) 3/4 cup white sugar 2 tsp baking powder ½ tsp salt   Process   Take a large bowl and add flour, salt, sugar and baking powder; whip them so that a smooth mixture is ready. Meanwhile preheat the oven to 400°F. Take 12 muffin cups and grease them. In another bowl, whisk together egg, applesauce, milk and vegetable oil till everything blends together properly. Now it's time to add the blueberries; stir them lightly. Fill 2/3 of the muffin cups with this batter. Place these cups in the preheated oven and wait for 20 min. The muffins will then turn golden brown.

LAZY POTATO PANCAKES 3½ cups frozen hash brown potatoes 2 eggs (2 extra large or 3 small) ¼ cup grated onion (or ½ teaspoon onion powder) 1 teaspoon season salt ½ teaspoon black pepper 2 Tablespoons cracker crumbs (matzo meal or flour will also work) 1/8 cup butter (¼ stick, 1 ounce) for frying 1/8 cup good olive oil for frying Toppings for the Table: sour cream applesauce cherry sauce*** blueberry sauce*** apricot sauce***

Place the frozen hash browns in the bowl of a food processor. Use the steel blade, and process with an on-and-off motion until the potatoes are finely chopped. (If you don’t have a food processor, you don’t have to go out and buy one to make these. Just lay your frozen potatoes out on a cutting board in single layers, and chop them up into much smaller pieces with a chef’s knife.) Leave the potatoes in the food processor (or on the counter) while you… Crack the eggs into a large bowl and beat them with a fork or a wire whip until they’re fluffy. Stir in the grated onion (or the onion powder if you decided to use that), and the salt and pepper. Mix in the cracker crumbs. Let the mixture sit on the counter for at least two minutes to give the crumbs time to swell as they soak up the liquid. If you used a food processor, dump the potatoes on a cutting board. (If you used a chef’s knife, they’re already there.) Blot them with a paper towel to get rid of any moisture. Then add them to the mixture in the bowl, and stir them in. If the mixture in your bowl looks watery, add another Tablespoon of cracker crumbs to thicken it. Wait for the cracker crumbs to swell up, and then stir again. If it’s still too watery, add another Tablespoon of cracker crumbs. The resulting mixture should be thick, like cottage cheese. Place the ¼ stick of butter and the 1/8 cup of olive oil in a large nonstick frying pan. (This may be overkill, but I spray the frying pan with Pam or another nonstick cooking spray before I add the butter and olive oil.) Turn the burner on medium-high heat. Once the oil and butter are hot, use a quarter-cup measure to drop in the batter. Don’t try to get all of the batter out of the measuring cup. Your goal is to make 1/8 cup pancakes, and if you don’t scrape out the batter, that’s approximately what you’ll get. Keep the pancakes about two inches apart, and cover the bottom of the frying pan with them. Flatten them very slightly with a spatula so the potatoes spread out and don’t hump up in the middle. Fry the pancakes until they’re lightly browned on the bottom. That should take 2 to 3 minutes. You can tell by lifting one up with a spatula and peeking, but if it’s not brown and you have to do it again, choose another pancake to lift. Once the bottoms of the pancakes are brown, flip them over with your spatula and fry them another 2 to 3 minutes, or until the other side is brown. Lift out the pancakes and drain them on paper towels. Serve hot off the stove if you can, or keep the pancakes warm by placing them in a pan in a warm oven (the lowest temperature that your oven will go) in single layers between sheets of aluminum foil. Serve with your choice of sour cream, applesauce, cherry sauce, blueberry sauce, or apricot sauce. Yield: Approximately 24 small pancakes, depending on pancake size.

PANCAKES 3½ cups frozen hash brown potatoes 2 eggs (2 extra large or 3 small) ¼ cup grated onion (or ½ teaspoon onion powder) 1 teaspoon season salt ½ teaspoon black pepper 2 Tablespoons cracker crumbs (matzo meal or flour will also work) 1/8 cup butter (¼ stick, 1 ounce) for frying 1/8 cup good olive oil for frying Toppings for the Table: sour cream applesauce cherry sauce*** blueberry sauce*** apricot sauce*** Hannah’s 1st Note: Great-Grandma

Neva found a place on the cellar shelves for every item friends and church members delivered during the day. At first she'd been uncertain about accepting the casseroles and hams and home-canned goods. So many people were struggling these days - should she take food meant for their families? But Lois Savage advised her to view the offerings in a different way. 'Please don't say no,' the younger woman had said, holding out a quart jar of applesauce and a basket of home-baked bread. 'You'll rob me of the opportunity to bless you.' When put into that perspective, Neva's guilt vanished and only appreciation remained.

I’ll go first,” Blue said, swinging his leg over the edge and stepping down. “There are a few rungs, then you have to drop the rest of the way. Not too far, though.” He got to the last rung and dropped down. I heard his feet hit the ground, followed by a stumble and a thud, and then he swore. Only he didn’t say any of the words I was acquainted with. I distinctly heard him say, “Applesauce.” “Applesauce?” I threw my head back and laughed. I’d never heard anything so adorable in all my life. “Stop laughing at me and get yourself down here,” he called back. But I couldn’t stop. I laughed all the way down the ladder and kept laughing as I dropped to the floor. It was farther than I thought it would be, and I lost my balance like Blue and fell right on my butt. I laughed even more until tears stung my eyes and my ribs hurt. “Oh, come on,” he said, hauling me to my feet. “It’s not like you’ve never heard that one before.” I could hear the red coloring his cheeks. He was embarrassed, which made it even more adorable, but he wasn’t the type to stay embarrassed for long

Shelley," I say. "You should've let him win. You know, to be polite." Shelley's response is a shake of her head. Applesauce drips on her chin. "That's the way it's going to be, huh?" I say, hoping the scene doesn't gross Alex out. Maybe I'm testing him, to see if he can handle a glimpse of my home life. If so, he's passing. "Wait until Alex leaves. I'll show you who the checkers champion is." My sister smiles that sweet, crooked smile of hers. It's like a thousand words put into one expression. For a moment I forget Alex is still watching me. It's so weird having him inside my life and my house. He doesn't belong, yet he doesn't seem to mind being here.

If you take cranberries and stew them like applesauce they taste much more like prunes than rhubarb does.

Resist the temptation to stir in mashed bananas, applesauce, or fruit juices, or to buy prepared cereal with fruit (even down the road, after you’ve introduced these fruits), or your baby will quickly come to accept only sweet foods, rejecting all else.

and refrigerate. Tip: Serve this with veggies, crackers, or rice cakes, or try on Sunny Day Flatbread (here) for lunch. Nottingham Sandwich Spread By Jane Esselstyn Say the word “Nottingham” slowly three times. The sound should be reminiscent of “Not-Eating-Ham.” This recipe is by no means a ham spread, but it sure does have the consistency and texture of one! Try this on none other than the Nottingham Flatbread (here) for lunch. Prep time: 10 minutes • Makes 1½ cups spread 1 cup chickpeas, mashed with fork ¼ cup chopped onion ¼ cup chopped pickles or pickle relish 1 celery stalk, finely chopped 1½ tablespoons mustard 1½ tablespoons applesauce ½ teaspoon fresh dill, chopped Pinch of salt Pinch of freshly ground black pepper Mix all of the ingredients in a bowl using a fork—make sure to smash the chickpeas. Spread on sandwiches, or serve as a dip. Spinach-Artichoke Dip and Spread By Kimetha Wurster Kimetha used to make her patented spinach-artichoke dip every February for a friend’s birthday party. True to her new, dairy-free E2 lifestyle, she was determined to make the recipe dairy-free, too. The guests had no idea it wasn’t the traditional one and gobbled it up. And there’s no baking necessary. Try this on the St. Nick Pizza (here) for lunch or dinner. Prep time: 10 minutes • Makes around 4 cups dip 14 ounces artichoke hearts, packed in water 2 to 6 garlic cloves 9 ounces fresh spinach, or 1½ cups frozen spinach 1 ripe avocado 1 cup nutritional yeast 6 shakes hot sauce Pinch of freshly ground black pepper (optional) Pinch of salt (optional) In a food processor or blender, pulse the drained artichokes with garlic until chopped. Add the raw spinach (or drained frozen), avocado, and nutritional yeast and pulse until well mixed. Shake in the hot sauce and season with salt and pepper as desired, and pulse again. Transfer to a bowl and serve with 100 percent whole wheat crackers or veggies,

6 cups Grape-Nuts Flakes 5 cups whole-wheat flour 5 teaspoons baking soda 3 cups Splenda 4 large eggs 1 quart low-fat buttermilk 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 1 cup unsweetened applesauce 6 large bananas, mashed

What is it?" "It's a Thermomix." "That crazy cooking-blender thing you were telling me about?" "The very one." I've been coveting this piece of equipment ever since my last trip to Montreal when I found out that nearly every great restaurant there is using them. It is essentially a powerful blender that also heats, so it will cook your soup and then puree it. It can spin slow enough to make risotto or hollandaise, or fast enough to turn whole unpeeled apples into the smoothest most velvety applesauce you've ever tasted. They aren't for sale in stores or online; you have to go through a special independent contractor salesperson, and they don't sell them in the U.S. Also? They are fifteen hundred dollars, an expense that even I couldn't justify for a piece of kitchen equipment. "I thought you can't get them here?" "You can't. He would have had to go through someone in Canada." "Wow. That is pretty amazing." "Yeah.

On the center island the remaining pans of Swamp Yankee Applesauce Cake batter were lined up like victims about to face a firing squad.

Louisa grabs her purse. “He ate chicken nuggets and some applesauce. Did you already eat dinner, or do you want me to make you a sandwich before I leave?” For a second, I hear another voice asking me if I want a sandwich. It makes something in me ache. I don’t know why I’m not over Charlie ghosting me. It’s fucked up, but I miss her more than Dakota. Once I realized what my ex had been doing behind my back, she was dead to me. Charlotte, though… It’s weird as hell not having her in my life anymore. And as much as I thanked her for taking care of Asher, I’m seeing now that I didn’t appreciate how she took care of me too. Always feeding me. Always helping me if I needed a study buddy. Always knowing how to cheer me up after Dakota reamed me out for something stupid. Just being an amazing friend. Did I run Charlie off? Did I do something to hurt her? Was Dakota lying about why her sister left? When I’m not pissed about her leaving, I’m still tormented. It keeps me

Remember Mary Poppins? The nanny all other nannies could never measure up to? When the children refused to take their medicine, she paired the healing concoction with a spoonful of sugar. Just as dog parents hide their puppy pills in peanut butter or, as my mom was prone to do, crush up Tylenol tablets and mix them in with applesauce (a food I still regard with a hint of suspicion), so you should wrap your data/logic/points/information in a story.

 . . . Today I got to tidying up around the property a bit. There were leaves everywhere, so I gave the yard a good blow job.” Cade’s eyes widen. Comically wide. Playfully wide. And I can’t help the hysterical little giggle that bubbles up out of me. I slap a hand over my mouth to cover it. Rhett chokes on a piece of his food, and Summer slaps his back and coos at him like he’s a baby choking on applesauce while trying to suppress her giggles. “I’m sorry, Dad,” Beau says with a playful glint in his eye. “You’re gonna have to explain that one to us again.” Harvey shakes his head and rolls his eyes. “You not wearing ear protection at the shooting range? I said the yard was a mess. Next time you can make yourself useful and blow it yourself, Beau.

Johnny Applesauce

Everything was local, sustainable, and ethically sourced. There were only a dozen or so dishes on the menu, but each was mouthwatering. Sussex cider pork belly served with homemade applesauce, roasted parsnips, and caramelized onions. A salmon eggs Benedict with house-made English muffins and fresh local free-range eggs. Several vegetarian and vegan options with a South Asian flair. It all sounded delicious.

Best case scenario? There was no applesauce extradition agreement between our two states.

a time to obtain a smooth consistency similar to applesauce. Pour the date-maple puree over the oat and fruit mixture and mix thoroughly until all ingredients are coated and sticky. Add the mixture to a parchment-lined 8-or 9-inch square baking pan and press firmly with your fingers or the back of a spatula. It is important to press mixture firmly before baking. Place on the middle rack of the oven and bake for 15–20 minutes, until the edges just start to brown. Remove and cool completely on a cooling rack, and then place in the refrigerator to set, approximately 2–3 hours or overnight, before cutting into individual bars. Store covered in the refrigerator.

It like, I’ve come into contact with people linked to this whole applesauce and I’ve got nothing out of it.

Did you know,” their teacher explained the year before, “that paper books are out-of-date the moment they’re printed?” The beginning-of-year welcome talk. All of them sitting criss-cross applesauce at her feet. “That’s how fast the world changes. And our understanding of it, too.” She snapped her fingers. We want to make sure you have the most current information. This way we can be sure nothing you use is outdated or inaccurate. You’ll find everything you need right here online.

Did you know, their teacher explained the year before, that paper books are out of date the instant they’re printed? The beginning-of-year welcome talk. All of them sitting crisscross applesauce on the carpet at her feet. That’s how fast the world changes. And our understanding of it, too. She snapped her fingers. We want to make sure you have the most current information. This way we can be sure nothing you use is outdated or inaccurate.

What an extraordinary half hour. How can I explain it? To be useful again, not as a tea-and-cheese-bringer, or a potato-cooker and applesauce-maker, but, almost, as a librarian.

I pulled over my half of the latke appetizer. It seemed pretty simple, a lacy-edged potato pancake fried until plush in the middle and golden-brown around the crispy edges. Like nachos, the toppings were what really made it. The chef had played off the traditional latke toppings of applesauce and sour cream (#teamapplesauceforever), pairing her potato latkes with a spicy apple chutney, with chunks of both meltingly sweet cooked apples and crunchy tart raw apples, and a thick cucumber raita that reminded me of sour cream.

Thanks to a documentary series on Netflix, I knew that nachos were called nachos because of their inventor's name (Ignacio, nicknamed Nacho). Croissants originated in Australia, not France, a tricky question that knocked all the other teams down... except for Bennett. Thanks to a paper I'd written in college on the history of the celebrity chef, I knew that the first TV celebrity chef was Fanny Cradock in England, not Julia Child, which three of the other teams thought. Not Bennett, of course. I wondered how he knew about Fanny. She wasn't exactly a household name. At least, not here. If I asked him, he'd probably expound upon a teenage trip to England, where he'd visited the former set. The first food eaten in space? Applesauce. The first sushi restaurant in New York City? Nippon.

There’s a price for everything.” We unhooked ourselves from the straps, and I set Applesauce’s cage down gently. “There isn’t. You know that, right? There are some things for which there is no amount of money you can spend to get.

OLIVIA’S APPLESAUCE CAKE 1 cup of butter 1 cup sugar 2 cups applesauce 2 cups light raisins 1 cup chopped walnuts 1 teaspoon baking soda 3½ cups flour (sifted) 2 eggs 1 teaspoon cinnamon 2 teaspoons cloves 2 teaspoons nutmeg Pinch of salt Sift together: Flour, baking soda, salt, cinnamon, cloves and nutmeg. Take ½ cup of flour mixture and stir into the nuts and raisins. Set both aside. Cream butter until whipped soft. Add sugar a little at a time until mixture is smooth. Beat in eggs vigorously. Alternately stir in flour mixture and applesauce. When all mixed together add nuts and raisins and mix well. Pour batter into a well-greased cake mold. Bake in preheated oven at 350° for one hour. Cool ten minutes, then turn out on cake rack. Frost with Whiskey Frosting when cake is

There were times when I’d sit in the parked car and eat my fast food alone with the car radio playing, overcome with relief, impressed with my efficiency. This was life with little kids. This was what sometimes passed for achievement. I had the applesauce. I was eating a meal. Everyone was still alive. Look how I’m managing, I wanted to say in those moments, to my audience of no one. Does everyone see that I’m pulling this off?

You constantly try to be optimistic when someone’s sick, to look on the bright side, even if the bright side is only their ability to swallow a spoonful of applesauce or walk to the bathroom.

Management—or the oversight of people, processes, and production—is just one function of some leaders. Organizations hope their managers will lead, but to be a leader, you need not have a management title because leadership is something else entirely. Leadership is not married to hierarchy, an organizational chart, or formal authority over a team. It’s a different animal, with more depth, breadth, and impact. I’ve known people who were little more than the boss of the applesauce, and yet they proved to be outstanding leaders. And I’ve known some vice presidents, executives, and Grand Poobahs—all with high-powered management titles, and not one of them could lead themselves, or anyone else, around a corner.

First in line was the Hanukkah table, all a-glitter with blue and silver tinsel and featuring a huge antique Art Deco menorah in sterling silver. There were platters of smoked salmon, trays of rugelach, babkas, and sufganiyot, and on small nearby steam tables, dishes of brisket and of latkes. The main table also held a large collection of side dishes or trimmings - cream cheese, applesauce, onions, pickles, horseradish, tomatoes, capers, and such - and was strewn with Hanukkah gelt and chocolate-marshmallow dreidels on pretzel sticks.

Life can be unfair— full of fear, pain and disappointment—and then God shows up when we don’t even deserve it. Roxie Applesauce will be released in 2020.

Most of his equipment was useless, or as it has been appropriately termed "doodle-dabs",' Miller wrote ... The rations were an even larger, and more critical, problem ... 'We discovered here whole cases of olive oil, cases of mustard, malted milk, stuffed olives, prunes, applesauce, etc etc. Even Rhine wine.

Otis snarled. “Otis will be fine.” He reached into his inventory and pulled out a jar of applesauce and a spoon began eating.

There’s no right way to be a mother. You do what you know how to do at the time and pray it all comes out okay in the end. I think of it like baking a cake. You pour all your best ingredients in the bowl. Flour, sugar, eggs, and real butter—no yogurt or applesauce substitutes, either. You mix it real good and then put it in the oven and you wait for it to rise. Take it out too early, it won’t be done, or it may fall.

Players always talk about glitches and what they would do if they saw one, but I don’t think anyone really does ever get to see them. We have an opportunity to become legendary.” “Shut up.” It was Otis. He had come out of the house and had overheard that last bit. “You have no idea what legendary is. You wouldn’t know it if it hit you in the face.” “I sure would,” Pro said, balling his fists defiantly. Otis walked over to him, reached up, and slapped him in the face. “So?” Pro’s face turned beetroot red with anger, but then the redness subsided and he started to laugh. “You’re saying that you’re legendary?” “I know I’m legendary. Even the annoying Warrior over there is legendary, though he’s probably more legendary than he deserves.” “Hey!” I said, feeling insulted. Pro continued to laugh. “It’s alright Otis, I’ll be happy to call you the Little Legend, if you’d like.” Otis snarled. “Otis will be fine.” He reached into his inventory and pulled out a jar of applesauce and a spoon began eating.

Otis grumbled, reached into his inventory, and pulled out a jar of applesauce. He opened it and shoved his hand inside, pulling out the pulverized fruit and stuffing it into his mouth.

You know, Otis,” Sandy said, “sometimes you’re such an idiot. Why not get an easy victory once in a while?” “Don’t insult me, woman,” Otis said. “How is telling the truth about you an insult?” Otis scowled and hunched over. He pulled out a jar of applesauce and started eating.