Recipe Thursday: Baked Apple Cider Donuts

There used to be this place on the VT/NY border where we would cross on our way from VT to Binghamton, NY for turkey dinner in the Fall, which had the BEST Apple Cider Donuts. They were so good, we would make it a thing to stop and get donuts and cider (kind of like our Puzzle Mountain bakery/honor pie stand on the way to Grafton Notch Campground in past Summers — which might be the best wild blueberry pie and jam EVER). We don’t feel like we see cider donuts very often or around here so we decided to whip up a batch (there are actually NO good donuts around us AT ALL).

We only had a mini bundt pan, but that seemed to do the trick. We might (at this point) go and find a donut oven pan (though not with any kind of poisonous coating, as most seem to come with nowadays) because this recipe was great. We were instantly revived in our donut glory (I don’t think we’ve eaten donuts in years due to the food desert we now live in…we might have splurged for some Holy Donuts in Portland, but that was quite awhile ago now). And the kid might have put on a little too much butter/sugar (they didn’t really need any), but they were so good. Try them, you’ll never buy commercial donuts again (unless they are made with love at a cider stand somewhere or by an amazing baker who uses clean ingredients).

These are cakey donuts with a nice moist crumb. The recipe (modified from Sally’s Baking Addiction) calls for concentrated or reduced apple cider (you can shorten morning making time by doing this part the night before), and if you have any left there are some lovely uses for it (like over pork loin, or drizzled over a baked/smashed brussel sprout salad with toasted hazelnuts, or on cheesecake, or in fancy Fall cocktails, etc).

Though, refined sugar of any kind is truly terrible (for your body, for the workers, for ecology). We are going to rework this recipe a bit in the future to incorporate apple/beet/maple sugar or syrup or honey instead and will update a note on here when we do. Until then, buy the cleanest flour and sugar you can find (the industry does not have your health in mind) and enjoy.

Baked Apple Cider Donuts
Makes 12-14 donuts

Ingredients

1 and 1/2 cups (360ml) apple cider
2 cups (250g) all-purpose flour, spooned & levelled
1 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon baking powder
2 teaspoons apple pie spice* (can make up ahead of time and have on hand: 2 tsp cinnamon, 1 tsp nutmeg, 1/2 tsp cloves, 1/4 tsp allspice, 14 tsp ginger, 1/4 tsp cardamom)
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 Tablespoons (28g) unsalted butter, melted
1 large egg, at room temperature
1/2 cup (100g) packed light or dark brown sugar (we just use reg organic sugar and 1 Tbsp of molasses)
1/2 cup (100g) granulated sugar
1/2 cup (120ml) milk, at room temperature
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

  1. Reduce the apple cider: Stirring occasionally, simmer the apple cider in a small saucepan over low heat until you’re left with about 1/2 cup (usually takes about 20 minutes). Set aside to cool for 10 minutes.
  2. Preheat oven to 350°F (177°C). Spray donut pan with non-stick spray (we use coconut oil). Set aside.
  3. Make the donuts: Whisk the flour, baking soda, baking powder, cinnamon, apple pie spice, and salt together in a large bowl. Set aside.
  4. Whisk the melted butter, egg, brown sugar, granulated sugar, milk, and vanilla extract together. Pour into the dry ingredients, add the reduced apple cider, and whisk everything together until smooth and combined. Batter will be slightly thick.
  5. Spoon the batter into the donut cavities—for ease, I highly recommend using a large zipped-top bag. Cut a corner off the bottom of the bag and pipe the batter into each donut cup, filling about halfway.
  6. Bake for 10-11 minutes or until the edges and tops are lightly browned. To test, poke your finger into the top of the donut. If the donut bounces back, they’re done. Cool donuts for 2 minutes then transfer to a wire rack. Re-grease the pan and bake the remaining donut batter.

    Optional: can also melt butter and brush finished donuts with butter and sprinkle with granulated sugar mixed with apple pie spice.
    These keep a few days on the counter (if you can keep from eating them), covered (we put ours in a glass cloche, worked great).

Duendesday: Fashion Show

{a day in the life of a homeschooled 16 yr old}

We skipped over some big shifts of our Summer, life getting lost in the shuffle of our upheaval. The kid is, yes, amazingly 16 (and she really is amazing, such an empathetic crazy little witch), and passed her homeschool review and is now in 11th grade! Leading up to both of these monumentous events, she worked on a fashion line of her own to show at the shop before we closed.

She had been sewing a lot and finding great pieces of material, dresses to upcycle, and inherited her grandmother’s sewing room (with drawers and drawers of fabric). She found herself a model to help (thank you, Eden!!), and secured herself an MC (thank you, Sarah!!), wrote description cards, made a music playlist, and we sent out the notice. Community showed up for this gal — we emptied the middle of the store to make a runway for her and lined it with chairs, benches, and a couch and some folks still had to stand (thank you to everyone who came!). She showed 9 pieces, and in the interlude showed off some of her doll dress and mask work. It was amazing! She made mini cupcakes, and we offered refreshments, and I ran over to my mother’s gardens to make dramatic bouquets in big vases. She handled the Q&A like a boss. I might have cried a little.

Duende really sews, or is thinking about sewing ,or is collecting sewing goods — all the time. Even when she is drawing, she is draping, and shaping. Watch out fashion world — something new is coming on the scene!

Monday’s Musings

“We knew the social history of the United States; we had heard the issues discussed a hundred times. We did not know the detail as we encountered it in our efforts to build a local community in a disintegrating society. But had we known all and more, we would have persevered, because the value of doing something does not lie in the ease or difficulty, the probability or improbability of its achievement, but in the vision, the plan, the determination and perseverance, the effort and the struggle which go into the project. Life is enriched by aspiration and effort, rather than by acquisition and accumulation. Knowing this, and despite the odds against success, if we had to do it over again we would…” ~ Helen & Scott Nearing, Living the Good Life

A Hot Minute: Catching Up

Yes, it’s been a minute since we’ve shared what’s happening up here at Rock Bottom Homestead. As with many things in our life right now, we think we’re going one way, and life redirects us. It feels a bit circular at the moment; we don’t feel like we’re getting anywhere. This year has been a struggle, for sure. But we’re hanging in there, just barely, on the edge of sanity and health, of security and stability, but hanging on. We’re constantly thrown by the fantasy of ‘the village’, as we have yet to see it, but there is a sense that it comes and goes — less like a village and more like a revolving asylum (ever see King of Hearts, the 1966 French film? It’s hilarious, like that…).

We’re still here, though easily forgotten by nearly all of our compatriots of the last three years. It’s funny (not funny) how you can live somewhere the longest you’ve ever lived anywhere in your life and have no real connections with folks. I’m sure this is a cultural/modernity issue with the ability to move around/away, though we have never struggled with this as much as we have here. We’ve never really felt welcome or a part of anything. It’s a real Twilight Zone situation. For many years, we didn’t mind or notice; it was easy to be distracted by our homestead work and dreams, and then the pandemic, and then the business. But when all is said and done, here we are again, looking around and realizing there isn’t a lot here to keep us. And it has been nearly impossible to get out, too. All efforts stymied by forces we have little control over.

It’s selfish to complain, though. The world energy is particularly bad right now, and so many folks (even right here in Maine) have it much worse. We are compassionate about those people and situations, and are trying to help in the small ways we can, but we’re not in a great position right now to do much. On one hand, we’re just trying to make it through, and it is wearing us down; on the other, we are safe and have each other, which is a lot. We are grateful despite our struggles.

It’s not all bad. There are definitely some folks we like and get to see occasionally (though no cohesion as a whole to our life), but no safety net. No one to really call when we’re really in a fix. It’s like we’re on our own island but surrounded by people. Weird. We try and focus on what we can, when we can. We’re not going anywhere for another Winter…and The Good Life Center is no longer a part of our lives. So, now we’re jobless, and relatively purposeless, unhappy, and trying to manage all the things.

As Emerson teaches, we need to re-evaluate…all things. Knowing our values and how to support them is our goal right now, and taking care of each other in the gentlest ways possible.

So, we’ve been collecting the Fall fruits and medicinals (hawthorn berries, peaches, apples, grapes, blackberries, mullein, wild sarsaparilla, burdock root, apple mint, self heal, cleavers, yarrow, echinacea, etc), going to the Common Ground Fair (where we get to enjoy all the farm animals, D gets to see her spinning ladies and buy yarn, we see many familiar faces at this point, I get to buy a bunch of herbs and seeds, we got stuck in insane traffic this year and missed the presentations we wanted to see but D got her pickle on a stick, we got yummy Heiwa tofu fries, and saw some great values being supported), and trying to appreciate the small things (making apple cider donuts, watching the chestnuts ripen, bottling tinctures/drying herbs, cleaning up the sugar shack, seeking bees and salamanders and dragon flies, buying records and books, licking our wounds and trying to get back on track).

This year certainly signifies ‘the great tucking in’.

First Blush of Spring

Alas, the rollercoaster of New England Spring…snow one week, 68 degrees the next, and then rains and just this side of coolness where the woodstove is too much. We can see the Bee Balm sprouting, tufts of day lillies, new leaves of Hollyhocks in the garden, baby Rhubarb, little mounds of poppies and chives, Primrose on the edge of the woods, along with the expected Crocus and surprise mini Daffodils. We are in that stretch where the snow has all melted so we can see the work that needs to be done and the impending burst when it is a little out of control — it’s a slim window to not feel overwhelmed. It is likely we will miss it (there is a lot going on around here). It is ok if we miss it. It is ok if it is a little jungle (except for the ticks) and we will do our best. It is ok if it takes us a little longer to get our gardens raked, the bushes trimmed, the fallen wood/trees picked up, and the peas planted. It will be ok.

Mid-Winter Moments

As we wind-up our time here at ye’ olde homestead we find ourselves romanticizing the work we have done here — as if every moment is a longing, a memory, and a letting go. Grieving is a hard process, done over time, with care-fullness. Since we’ve decided to leave this home, it has been a hard way to grieve — we haven’t left yet (or packed!). We’re still ‘in it’, for whatever that is worth, even though we are edging closer every day.

We are also grieving a family loss, (R’s) mom passed away just a couple of weeks ago and it has thrown off all of our systems, even the not-so-together ones. And that process of grief is also bereft with bureaucracy and false complications — we thought we had all our ducks in a row but it turns out our ducks were crazy and now we need some geese and perhaps some chickens, as well, to round out the bird barnyard frenzy of dissolving a life. When is there time to grieve? Or make space for the processes of care? Everything is unfinished/half-finished/hard to finish.

For a moment, we thought we had a handle on it, and so these pictures reflect the moments we thought we were ok (we were…we are…we’re ok, not great but getting by, together and with your help, thank you)…and hopefully there will be more of these moments but right now they are loose pearls rolling around in an empty pool. We’ll figure it out, but until then, we’ll just gather these pearls as best we can.

Happy Mid-Winter, may you be safe and loved.

Solstice Happenings

And here we are again, in the thick of the dark days, waiting for the light, waiting for the recharge of solar energy into our bones and brains. The year shifts from practice to a bit more theory and planning. We tend to our ecological relations in different ways — in sometimes more subtle ways, sometimes deeper, sometimes gentler…

Our Solstice this year is upended, like much of everything in our lives right now. We walk a fine line of function and focus lately. We don’t have much deep community, no get-togethers, no parties for us; on our days off (for which we didn’t really have this month in order to try and make up for the economic slump that we’re all apparently imagining), we try and rest and clean up. But we miss the days of friends gathering, feeling like we have a place, and a purpose.

We must be doing something right though because folks have really stepped up to help — donated wood, food, bartered goods — these things are so appreciated. We really need these things this season as we are barely getting by. We often discuss middle-class mindsets, and it’s challenging when you have a wide range of education and skills, but if you’re unwilling to compromise your values and something catastrophic happens, it really sets you back. For us, when I got sick with Lyme (and Lyme co-infections), finding appropriate care depleted our financial safety nets, and we have still yet to recover. Sure, starting the business seemed risky, but I couldn’t guarantee I could do other jobs for a long time and this is what he does now, so it was the best decision.

There are many factors why we aren’t more successful: not owning your own business space is a big one, borrowing to get into business is another, not running a capitalist-exploitive business is another, having a business association that values what you do is pretty big, but mostly it’s the place. We genuinely feel that if we were somewhere more connected we would be doing better. It’s not so much that the area doesn’t like what we do, it’s that the majority of folks here don’t seem to value supporting their local economy, small businesses, or mission-based businesses.

It’s a middlin’ America kind of thing — a thing of convenience, a thing of identifying your own values and living by them, a thing of building community (vs. thinking that your neighborhood/town is your community. Community are the folks that show up for you), and likely a thing of complacency. It’s easier not to think about what you eat or read (in our case) or where it comes from, or how it impacts its chain of consequence (before and after). For all the amazing people we have met here, we wish there were just more of them.

As we move closer to the light, we will try and deepen our connections and ignore the impending shadows. We will focus on the small successes. We will be care-full with each other. We will do our best, as we know you are doing yours.

Snow Season

We all tend to love snow the best from our cozy places inside looking out or when we can have time to have fun in it, but it is less on our list when we have to work/school/be out in it for things other than said fun. My sensibilities tend to lose it when it is ‘too cold’ to snow, that even sounds wrong. A nice thick blanket of insulating snow is not only lovely, and better than ice or just a cold rainy season because it also gives our microclimate time to rest and recharge. Most of our favorite things need this process of deep cold and insulation — like New England fruits, Maple trees, all kinds of seeds and animals who hibernate or get various nutrition during this time (you may think it is a particularly lean time but it also offers a necessary variety, as long as it is not too long a season or too harsh). And maybe us, too.

Some folks swear they prefer the Northeast because they ‘need 4 seasons’, and I can see that, though other climates have such lovely different forms of those seasons — some more subtle than others, some you just have to get to know (these NE 4 are a little colonialist fantasy, if you ask me). We loved living in the high desert of New Mexico and having our coffee in the courtyard in just a sweater in February (you want a ton of snow, just go 20 minutes up the mountain right there and you can find snow up into July). Don’t get me wrong, the particulars of NE seasons are wonderful but I prefer they honor the changes the world is going through right now, too. It’s not just the negativity of climate change to focus on, but also the amazing adaptation of our environment (human and nonhuman) — the shift in mushroom fruit available, the renewed stability of some species, the movement of the treeline…and our connection to what we are able to recognize and introduce ourselves to: new friends, old friends all having some time together to make some new and stronger…our strength lies in diversity and consolidation of experience and sense.

With all of that in mind, here are some little moments we are experiencing right now — evenings by the woodstove (our three chairs like the three little bears, the dog in his bed, the cat stealing our seats when we go to get something), crafting/sewing/crocheting warmy things, porcupines in the apple trees (we watched her way too long), shadowy forest cows (deer) on the lawn in the bright moonlight, stews/soups/and casseroles redolent with carmelization and richness (with crusty sourdough bread, of course) or Spanish Tortilla or Ham Hocks with Collards (thank you for most of our meals from Lazy Acres, Snafu Acres, Andrews Farm, Dig Deep Farm, Goranson Farm, and gracious community gifts), lap blankets and family readings of the Norton Short Story Collection, hot cider (maybe with a little Scotch), crunchy snow drifts (and images of the bird bath out in the garden heaped with snow, and all of the other bits we didn’t put away before they became yard mounds), finding family tree notes from my g-ma in old tea dishes, finding studio scenes of a decade of arts from the dancing dervish that is our child, going to bed earlier (maybe to read, maybe to just sleep a little more, a little longer), and getting closer to the longest night to celebrate the returning sun…