Hi, Apple Pie

I was in the mood for apple pie Saturday, and nothing else was going to satisfy me, so I baked one using the Old World Dutch Apple Pie recipe I found in the cookbook that came with my food processor. I only used Granny Smith apples (they called for mixing up apple types), because that’s all I had, but I pretty much followed the rest of the recipe exactly, and . . . WOW. My usual pie is pretty decent, if I do say so myself, but this one is out of this world. It’s got the crumbly top, made with butter, flour, brown sugar, rolled oats, and walnuts, and the filling is unbelievable: I mixed eggs, sour cream, sugar, and vanilla and poured that over the apples and then topped it with the crumblies and baked it.

I seriously think this pie may be the most delicious thing I’ve ever baked. It’s amazing. The crust is buttery and flaky, the filling is firm and sweet/tart, and the topping is slightly crunchy and caramelized. It is just unbelievable, and I had to make sure to invite people over to help get rid of it so I wouldn’t spend the rest of the weekend doing nothing but reading and eating pie. SO GOOD.

Speaking of reading, I’m working my way through Cheap: The High Cost of Discount Culture, and I can’t say enough good things about it. It’s pleasantly readable and oh-so-interesting, and I’m learning a lot, I think. It’s much like Barbara Ehrenreich’s books (of which I am a fan), but less judgey. It’s facts and flow and things to think about, and I highly recommend it. I’m not quite sure what I’m going to DO with the information and ideas I’m gathering, but at this point I want to put a complete hold on purchasing anything but food. I want to save up money to buy things of the highest quality—things made locally or regionally by craftsmen and artists and artisans—that will last forever.

For now, though, I will content myself with my knitting and making fewer trips to Target. Baby steps, man. Baby steps.

I’m taking sluggish, drowsy steps right now. The Boy got food poisoning at his camp and couldn’t get a hold of his dad in the middle of the night (WHY DO PEOPLE NOT KEEP THEIR PHONES BY THEIR BEDS?), so I had to fetch the poor puking kid at the crack of dawn Saturday after listening to him puke via cell phone in the wee hours of the morning. Talk about heartbreaking. The culprit was some chicken he had with his dad before leaving Friday night—I’m sure of it, because he brought me the leftovers, and when I opened the fridge Saturday morning, it REEKED. Gross. But The Boy was fine after some water, toast, and apple slices. He took a nice nap on the couch (I joined him), and I win the prize for Best Parent. C feels like the Worst Dad in the World because The Boy couldn’t reach him and left so many pathetic messages, and . . . frankly, he should. When he’s the parent on duty, he has to be reachable 24/7, whether the kid’s with him or not. Lesson learned. But thank God the situation wasn’t serious.

And then I spent Saturday night visiting with a friend I usually only see about once a year, so I didn’t get to bed until almost 5am. I am so not a night owl, and am so very out of synch. I can’t wait to go to bed tonight (after I’ve had some pie, of course). I bet I won’t even make it till dark.