I have somewhat of a torrid love affair going on this season with the classic pork and apple flavor combination. Sure, it’s been around forever, but for whatever reason, something about the sudden chill in this year’s air has got me thinking in one direction. (Hint: it’s a direction that involves an entire apple grove and pig farm.) By the way, when I say “it’s been around forever”, I really mean forever. Or at least dating back to the 1300′s. I’m a little late to the game, apparently.
But despite centuries’ worth of pork and apple recipes, I have never in my life had apple butter ribs. Or had never, I should say, because obviously once I realized that I’d never tried them, I was dead set on making them. I should also mention that I had never tried apple butter in the first place, but, I mean, it’s called apple butter. There was absolutely no chance that I wouldn’t like it.
Instead of going out and buying apple butter, I decided that I’d make it myself since I just so happened to have 10 pounds of apples laying around from when I went apple picking with James.
Speaking of which, why is it that every couple who has an apple grove within a fifty mile radius of them feels the need to go apple picking in the fall? As someone who did go do this, I have to say that I don’t know. I really don’t. I think it’s some kind of unwritten rule to do something in the fall that is supposed to be fun and cute, and couples can wear flannels and take pictures and do some little romcom-worthy things and giggle together, or whatever. But apple picking really isn’t that much fun, as I began to realize after ten minutes or so at the grove. You get there, and you pick the apples, and then you think, “Now what? Are we supposed to take pictures with the apples? Should we laugh as we pick an apple? I can try to use my other hand to snap a picture of both of us on my phone but the sun is glaring and I can’t open my eyes that wide and I keep cutting him out of the picture…”
But wait! There’s more…