A lady at the famer’s market gave my mom a lot of apples, because there had been a hail storm and most of the apples were too “bad” to sell. Not knowing what to do with all the apples, my mom gave some to us. So last week, on a sunny, warm day, we pretended it was already fall and made some apple pie.
Oh, but first, we took pictures of our silly reflections on the bowl of apples.
After the silliness, we got to work. First, by washing the apples and then by peeling them.
Watch out for the black holes….
Most of the apples were perfectly fine, some of them had little imperfections, like a few bruises from the hail. That is a good reminder about our own lives, we all have imperfections, some bruised and battered from the storms of life, but just like the apple maker, our Maker, loves us just the same.
Once they were peeled, we got to cutting.
The Bundle ran enthusiastically to her room, looking for her pink and white plastic knife.
But the cute knife turned out to be dull… who knew? Mama came to the rescue and gave her a butter knife.
Finally, I was done with cutting and we could get to the fun part.
I put the apples in a bowl (actually it’s clearly a measuring cup, but let’s just call it a bowl, it sounds better). Added some honey, cinnamon and a hint of nutmeg. Sweet, delicious gooeyness.
At last, it was time to make the crust. I start gathering ingredients, and what do you know, I was all out of butter. Butter!
Instead of drowning in despair and selfpitty, my brain, for once, came to the rescue, riding in a white stallion. Ahem, sorry, I’m feeling poetic. So I used olive oil instead.
Okay, promise me you won’t laugh. I present to you my olive oil pie crust.
I said don’t laugh!
Okay, go ahead, who can blame you. The top crust was a lot better, I added more oil and more water. The end result was just devine. Really.
Happy first day of fall!