Scofield | Burning applesauce just one of many culinary tricks

Well, I set a new record. I may be the only cook in history who can burn microwave applesauce.

When I first started the project, my husband sniffed appreciatively and said, "Mmm. Baking an apple pie?" For the rest of the day after I finished, the comments were different. My husband asked, "Did you burn the pie?" Our daughter said, "The kitchen smells like charred paper. What happened?"

I've always been gifted at burning things. If kitchen arson were a crime, I'd have spent my adult life in prison. Years ago one son said jokingly, "We know dinner's almost ready when the smoke alarm goes off." Another told me I didn't need a kitchen timer, I just needed to be sure to keep fresh batteries in the kitchen smoke alarm. Teenagers can be cruel.

Our alarm is so picky that it goes off if I leave the oven door open too long when checking to see if whatever I'm baking is done. And no, it isn't because the crusty debris on the bottom of the oven caught fire. It's because of the arrangement of the furniture. The heat is blocked from drifting sideways because of the refrigerator, so it goes straight up and into the alarm. I'm sticking to that story.

At least there was no smoke or flame with the applesauce debacle. There was just the waste of time and two perfectly good apples. But my motive was pure.

Great-grandson Roman, 10 months old, loves fruit. I feed him fresh bananas like my mother-in-law taught me all those years ago: scraping off a thin layer with the spoon and feeding it to the baby. Then when the slimy, slippery inner core of the banana is all that's left, you pop it in your own mouth, killing two birds with one stone, or maybe feeding two birds with one banana. She also taught me how to do the same thing with cooked beef and chicken and a sharp-edged spoon, but after trying it once with our oldest child, I decided not to mess with anything Gerber had already perfected.

There were two apples left in the fruit bowl on the table, too soft to enjoy fresh. I decided I'd make applesauce for Roman the easy way, in the microwave. I wouldn't even have to peel and core them, just press through a sieve. I chunked them up in a little bowl, covered it with a paper towel, and nuked them for four minutes.

They seemed to be done, but there was no way I could push the pulp through a strainer, and I don't have a food processor.

So I let them cool enough to handle, then pulled off the peel and picked out the seeds and tough core parts. Which, by the way, took more time than if I'd peeled and cored the things in the first place. Still couldn't mash it enough to strain it. Well, I told myself, it just needs to cook some more; that'll soften it up. The mixture was pretty dry, so I added a little bit of orange juice, like I always do when I make applesauce. Orange juice instead of water makes a nice citrusy flavor that blends with the cinnamon. I sprinkled on a tiny bit of sugar, covered the dish with a paper towel and set the timer for eight minutes.

Then Roman and I settled down in his favorite place, leaning on the back of the couch and looking out into the backyard. The birds, dogs, wind in the awnings and brightly colored whirligig keeps him entranced for much longer than eight minutes at a time.

The microwave dinged when it was finished, but I didn't worry about anything until Russ asked if I burned the pie. About that time Roman's grandma, our daughter Luanne, made the comment about charred paper. She took over supportive couch duty so I could check.

It is indeed possible for something to boil dry in a microwave. And if you have a little bit of sugar sprinkled on top of the dish, the sugar caramelizes and chars the paper towel. On the plus side, I may have discovered a new way to make fruit leather. And the lingering aroma is much better than the one left by broccoli burned in the bottom of a saucepan.

You can rescue most vegetables by spooning them out carefully, without dislodging the burnt layer on the bottom of the pan, and pretending the smoky flavor is a new seasoning. Then you fill the pan with sudsy dishwater and let it soak for a couple of days. I have two Revere Ware saucepans with permanent black marking on the bottom, but they're still usable. Revere Ware makes sturdy stuff.

So I guess the two apples weren't completely wasted. I've added to my culinary expertise. I can now burn not just vegetables, but fruit, too. Maybe I'll try my apples flamb next time we have company. Or maybe not.

* Donna Scofield is a freelance writer whose articles, columns and short fiction stories have appeared in numerous national and regional magazines. The longtime Yakima resident is retired after working as a secretary and office manager in Yakima School District elementary schools. She has raised two sons and two daughters. Her email is RDDLScofield@aol.com.