Aprisauce

A tired gal (whose youngest son woke her up before 5 this morning; later, she had to pick him up early from camp because he had a 103° fever!) walks into her kitchen and spies a quart of pricey black velvet apricots with which she'd once planned to make jam. Shriveled and tired, jam fruit this was not! But to toss them seemed blasphemous, and so she figured, "Well, what's the worst that can happen if I pit and halve them and then toss them in a pot with sugar over medium heat?" You might suspect that catastrophe soon followed.

You would be wrong.

What came to pass was a glorious cross between compote and sauce, aprisauce if you will. It's smashing beyond belief, in both looks and taste. Tired gal took bite after bite, closing her eyes after each. Her brain, high on this delight, happily intoned, "What a find, what a thrill, please make this again."

Tired gal took one last bite before forcing herself to save some for later. She did not mention the concoction to her children and because she covered it with plastic wrap and put it on the bottom shelf of the fridge, it is as safe from her husband as the gold in Fort Knox.