My grandparents had a crabapple tree in their back yard and I used to love to climb it when I was little. It was small like me and the branches were low enough to grab easily but not high enough to frighten my mother. I especially liked climbing it in the fall when I could shake some of the little hard crabapples loose so they’d rain down on my little sister, dutifully watching from below. But the fruit itself was disappointing. They were too sour and dry to be good eating and my sister always cried when I pretended to be a World War II fighter pilot dropping crabapple bombs on her.
Grandma used to make jelly from those too-tart crabapples and I imagined it must have taken some sort of magic. My parents frowned on sugar and sweets so we only really got to have it when we visited my grandparents. But I loved it. I especially loved its spicy-sweet tang with peanut butter on Pepperidge Farm white sandwich bread – something else my parents frowned upon.
I stumbled upon these beauties at the local Farmers’ Market and instantly knew what I had to do. I had to make crabapple jelly.
Posted by puddingpop 
