Crabby

Yeah, so the outside world feels big and dark and scary.  And while I probably should be doing something to at least pretend to try and help with that, today I’m really not.  Today I’m picking crab apples from the trees in the yard (so tiny, so pretty, so sweet).

 

 

Then I’m chopping them up, and burying them in sugar.

In a few hours they’ll have released a ton of juice (seriously, all that sugar will dissolve and there will be liquid in the bottom of the bowl).  Then in a day or two I’ll add some apple cider vinegar (the live kind we ferment our selves from raw apple cider) and the whole thing will bubble and ferment and fizz and fume and just generally look like (and, briefly, probably smell like) a terrible idea.

A day or two later, I’ll strain out the fruit and then I’ll leave it on the counter (covered with a dishtowel to keep out dust and cat hair but still let air in) for a week or two at least.  Eventually I’ll move it into the fridge, where it will keep getting better for months and months (we’ve got jars that are at least three years old, they’re astonishingly good).

Then I’ll enjoy it in cocktails and in seltzer water and in pretty much anything I can think of.  Because it’s universally amazing.

And no, it is absolutely not sterile.  In fact, I’m sure it is full of all sorts of weird microbes (as is beer…and cheese…and yogurt…and kombucha…and sauerkraut).  And I’m totally not telling *you* to go out and do this.  But I love doing it and I love drinking it and it feels like pretty much the only thing I’m going to do today.  If you want to do it too, you totally can.  Or if you just want to take a nap, that’s ok too.