Saturday, November 21, 2009

Apple pie

image via AbhishekSundaram
But ours looked just like that. Almost.

1. Peel and chop a ridiculous pile of apples.

2. Wash one more apple for the daughter who begs for a whole apple, not a chopped, even though on every other day she likes her apple in slices.

3. Spend the next hour working around the apple missing one bite that is now on the edge of the counter.

4. Mix flour and brown sugar. Grate in a stick of frozen butter with the cheese grater. Defend the use of cheese grater for non-cheese purposes. Deny any mac-and-cheese-making project opportunities. Call for the husband to unwrap a cheese stick.

5. Slowly add ice water until dough just forms a ball. Ice water is not the same as milk dripped out of your sippy cup shaken upside-down, but thank you for helping.

6. Wrap dough ball in plastic and set in the fridge to come together.

7. Prepare apples: add brown sugar, cinnamon, lemon juice. Use the microplane to zest the lemon and grate the nutmeg. Allow the girl a five minute soliloquy on the comparative abilities of the microplane and the cheese zester. Spoil her day, and let's be honest, her whole life by continuing to deny mac-and-cheese making.

8. Explain that a whole nutmeg really is a legitimate spice, and really isn't a dog poop. Scratch the invisible dog Noodle behind his ears.

9. Open the baking cabinet to retrieve rolling pin and cookie cutters. Allow Noodle and younger daughter to play delightfully in the noisy avalanche of cookie sheets and springform pans. Realize that closing that cabinet ever again is impossible; sigh and walk away.

10. Divide dough into uneven halves and roll the large half out for your crust. Pinch your edges. Make something thick for a filling substrate. Concoct a combo of apple butter and honey and set older daughter to painting the crust.

11. Step on a cheese stick.

12. Fill crust, alternating with apples and nutmeg/sugar mix.

13. Roll out remaining crust and cut cute little stars with your cookie cutters. Make an open-form top crust with your constellations. Debate merits of making a wish on the first star seen tonight if it's one of raw dough instead of night sky.

14. Brush top crust with milk, and yes, it really should come straight from the milk in the fridge and not one's personal cup. Sprinkle pie with coarse sugar.

15. Bake at 400 degrees for about an hour, or until your house smells so good your daughters and Noodle are walking around licking the air.

16. The most important step of all: remove pie from oven, let it cool sufficiently, and carefully let your girl place one cherry on top.

Bon appetit!



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1 comment:

Marie said...

LOL -- this was great! And sounds so much like baking in my kitchen with two kids and various animals (both real and imaginary). Thanks for the much needed smile today :-)