When we moved into our Crestline home more than ten years ago, a small apple tree was growing in the back yard. It appears to be quite old, but has never produced a very large crop. The apples that do come from the tree, though, are of exceptional quality–very sweet and juicy.
During recent weeks, we’ve occasionally picked one or two to eat out of hand, but yesterday in my kitchen I found that Jerry had picked and brought in quite a few. “Thinking apple pie,” he had mentioned before.
Earlier today, into a large copper bowl, I placed the apples, and as I listened to a morning talk show, I peeled and sliced them. I then mixed the apples with sugars, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg and lemon juice.
I lined four small pans and one larger one with the pie crust I had whipped up, and then spooned in the apple mixture. I hadn’t made quite enough crust, so the top strips were a bit skimpy. Set the oven, poked in the pies, and relaxed for the hour or so it took for the pies to bake.
After the pies had cooled, I wrapped the four small ones in cellophane and tied them with small strips of raffia. While I cleaned up the kitchen, Jerry delivered them to our neighbors on each side of us, and to Ken and Nancy who live across from us.
The other pie–the bigger one–resides now on the counter in the kitchen. In a couple of hours, I’ll make coffee in our Keurig, we’ll each have a slice of pie, and we will call that dinner.
Come to think of it, we won’t eat the whole thing. There’s enough for you.