Applesauce Custard: or, The raisins didn't hurt, but they didn't help either

Before we get to the applesauce: Millions of people in the US are losing food benefits. In fact, the Supreme Court just granted Trump's appeal to avoid paying food benefits, thus legally clearing the way for people to starve. 

If you are considering buying groceries to drop off at your local food bank, think about donating money directly to them instead. Food banks often buy food at bulk rates, so your money will feed more people than if you did the shopping yourself. And of course, the people in charge of food banks have a firsthand view of what foods are needed.

Right, on with the custard...

Apparently they really liked applesauce at my great-grandmother's house. She pasted in a lot of recipes that use it. (Or maybe she really liked applesauce and everyone else had no choice.)

Applesauce Custard 1 egg 1 cup applesauce 1 cup milk ½ tsp melted butter, melted Sugar to taste ½ cup raisins Heat oven to 350°. Grease a small baking dish (one that holds 4 cups or so). In a medium mixing bowl, whisk the egg until well-beaten. Stir in the applesauce, milk, and butter. Add sugar to taste, and mix well. Lastly, add the raisins. Pour into the pan. Spread the raisins out with a spoon if they landed in a pile in the center. Bake until it jiggles but does not slosh, which may take longer than you think. Newspaper clipping, Chicago area, probably 1930s-1940s

 

I really like making complicated and fussy recipes when my mood is right. But today, I wanted to be nearly done after dumping the ingredients into a bowl.

We only needed one more ingredient to complete the custard, one that is sure to draw complaints at the dinner table: raisins! If I were to speculate, the raisins are here to to add little concentrated pods of sugar to the recipe without adding more sugar to the grocery bill. Or perhaps they are meant to add textural interest to what is otherwise more or less a small pan of baked applesauce. Either way, the raisins promptly sank when I mixed them in. 

Oh, and we almost forgot something! I don't know what this tiny little splat of butter is supposed to do, but let the record show that I remembered to add it.

 

I thought for a moment that I was supposed to put this on the stovetop for a while before baking it. However, our instructions simply say to "bake until custard is firm." Even in a newspaper recipe written as tersely as possible, I figure they would have at least briefly mentioned a saucepan if I was supposed to use one. And so, I poured this into a small baking dish and hoped for the best. 

I should note that in order to fend off questions about what was in the oven (and the inevitable disappointment when I answered), I made a batch of decoy cookies. For one thing, we had a partial carton of cream that was pushing its expiration date, and the cookie recipe conveniently used the last of it. But more importantly, I could wave cookies at people and prevent anyone asking what was in the small pan next to them.

The custard took a really long time to bake. Every time I pulled a batch of cookies out of the oven, I gave the rack a shake to see how things were going in the pan. It simply refused to set. I started to wonder if this recipe used too much liquid for our one egg to set. When the custard showed the first signs of a pretty golden top, I began to think this was coming out all right. But then it started boiling hard. I feared that I had basically made egg drop soup with applesauce in it. Also, exactly one raisin had floated to the surface.

 

After leaving this in the fridge overnight, the custard looked like a worn-out sponge.

This wasn't necessarily bad, but it tastes like economizing. It was an underwhelming dessert, but a surprisingly decent side dish with the pot roast. But I can't get past the texture on this-- and I'm not usually finicky about texture. You know how applesauce is full of tiny little apple chunks? Well, they made this seem curdled regardless of whether it actually was. I think it would be a lot better with thoroughly pureed apples. (Was applesauce more thoroughly pulverized in those days?) I don't regret making this, but I'm not in a rush to repeat it.