Back when we were in the thick of nectarines, eating them fresh and slicing giant bowlfuls for drying, it occured to me that I should try fruit leather. Because my dehydrator sheets are mesh and the soupy liquid would just drip through, I’d never experimented with leather before. But my new oven, I realized, had a dehydrator setting. Why not give it a go?

And thus started a whole chain of fruit leather-making experiments…

Pureed fruit: cooked and fresh, nectarines and peaches.
Acid: bottled lemon juice and fresh.
Sweetener: sugar, honey, and/or an over-ripe banana
Dehydration: in the oven — two parchment-lined pans in the oven, or a whole stack of pans (here’s where I wish I had four or five oven racks) — or in the dehydrator (hello, parchment paper!) 

Everything worked, but there were subtle differences and our preferences to go with.

The leather made from pre-cooked fruit took on a glossy, smooth shine, almost like plastic, and had a more muted flavor.

The fresh peach puree (with lemon, a bit of honey, and one banana per processor blending) resulted in leather flecked with bits of peel, and it had strong peachy flavor.

The addition of banana (our all-time favorite dried fruit) was a smash-hit, providing subtle banana flavor and a nice chew.

Leather made in the dehydrator tended to get a little crispy around the edges, even when I took pains to spread it on nice and thick, and then, when I had to dehydrate it extra long (because it was so thick) it got so dark it appeared scorched, even though it wasn’t.

Leather made in the oven was much chewier (our preference) and it got done faster.

I realize fruit leather seems kind of crazy considering the slow cook time and the lightening fast speed with which it disappears. But keep in mind that it takes minimal prep — no need to peel — and since it’s all getting blended up, bruised, squishy-soft fruit is fine. Plus, there’s no nitpicky slicing and laying out of the fruit, and then, at the end, prying the dried fruit from the sheets. Just, blitz, pour, and roll. Easy!

I keep the fruit leather, rolled and cut into inch-wide(ish) sections, in the freezer for packed lunches and snacks.

The rule is that no one is allowed to just snack on it willy-nilly — it’s to be saved for packed lunches and necessary snacks, and eaten in moderation please — but I don’t think anyone much listens.

Peach Fruit Leather 

I’m eager to experiment with other fruits. Maybe this winter I’ll simmer a pot of rhubarb and then add a bunch of strawberries before blending. Or I might buy a giant Costco bag of frozen mixed berries and give that a whirl. And if I ever get my hands on a case of almost rotten bananas, watch out!

So my oven isn’t tied up all day, I usually make the fruit leather at bedtime and then let it dehydrate overnight.

Very ripe peaches, washed, pitted, rough chopped
1 mushy banana
1-2 tablespoons lemon juice, either fresh or bottled
2 tablespoons honey or sugar, optional

Put all ingredients in a food processor and blend until soupy. It will taste only mildly sweet and fruity, but no worries — the flavor will intensify as it dehydrates. Pour the sauce into a big bowl and blend up more fruit, adding each batch to the bowl as you go, until you have enough sauce to fill your dehydrator trays.

Ladle the pureed fruit onto parchment-lined dehydrator sheets or large, sided, parchment-lined baking pans. Dehydrate (in the oven, at 150 degrees) until no longer sticky to the touch. (If the edges are done, but the middle is not, use a pizza cutter to remove the parts that are done and then return the unfinished portion to the oven.)

Roll the leather while it is still warm and then, using a scissors, cut it into desired pieces. Bag and freeze.

This same time, years previous: a little house tour, the quotidian (8.20.18), the Peru post, miracle cat, the quotidian (8.19.13), the quotidian (8.20.12), this is what crazy looks like, whole wheat buttermilk waffles, Valerie’s salsa.

This same time, years previous: passion fruit juice, bourbon and brown sugar peach pie, the quotidian (8.17.15), proceed with abandon, starfruit smoothie, how to get your refrigerator clean in two hours, peach tart.

Tuesday morning, I was in the shower when my older son knocked on the door. “Can I come in?”

“Sure,” I said, pulling the curtain all the way closed.

He stuck his head in the door. “One of the cows got its tail torn mostly off so we need to amputate. You might want to take pictures.”

Well.

The kids threw wide the gate, cornered the injured steer between it and the fence, and then tied it to the fence, creating a surgical chute, of sorts.

The other cows were evacuated to the lower field, the sheep milled about pleasantly, and the goats roamed free, disregarding Coco’s frenetic efforts to herd them back into the pasture.

At one point, my sister-in-law dropped off her kids to be babysat — that they got to observe a medical procedure was an unintended bonus — and my father came over to weigh in, as per my children’s request. (My husband was at a doctor’s appointment so he missed all the excitement).

My older son was in his element. An avid James Herriot fan, he milked the moment, announcing with great glee, “I’ll need a bucket of hot water, some soap, and a towel, please.” He hosed down the steer’s back end and scraped the hair and dead skin above where he’d be making the cut.

And then there was the problem of what to cut with. My father suggested tree clippers, so my daughter ran to fetch a set and sterilize them.

And right around then was when the onlookers, imagining the worst, fled, their fingers in their ears to block the expected bellows (that never came).

My son sprayed the incision site with iodine and then my father held the lower end of the tail while my son positioned the clippers. “Get all the way around before you cut,” my father coached.

Then— slice.

The steer didn’t even flinch.

They dunked the stump in a container of iodine and then my son applied pressure, gave up (because the bleeding didn’t stop), and did a bunch more cleaning of the wound with scalpel and scissors. 

All the while, the steer just stood there, placidly munching his grain.

I went back to the house then — it was starting to rain — leaving the kids to bandage the stump.

And all this before I even had my coffee.

P.S. Two days later, the steer’s had antibiotics and appears to be doing great. Fingers crossed!

This same time, years previous: the beginning of the end, knowing my questions, from market to table, garlicky spaghetti sauce, Friday snark, drilling for sauce, tomato and red wine sauce.