First Draft: Apple Pie

This weekend brought a personal first: I made an apple pie... from scratch. The whole deal. I aptly name it "Apple Pie, first draft."

The guilt had been piling up in me since my mom visited in October. She had bought me a half peck of gorgeous (Macintosh?) apples with the intent that I make a pie with them. They have sat, untouched, uneaten, unused, on my refrigerator top since then.

I decided on Sunday that today was THE day. I was going to use those apples, and I was going to make my very first apple pie.

Several things weren't working in my favor:

1. I had waited too long. Some of the apples didn't survive the delay (should have put them IN the refrigerator, not ON it).
   
2. I had a houseful of people. I should have been entertaining them rather than having them watch me bake.
3. My mom, who has the family recipe for the best apple pie on the face of the Earth, is currently in the middle of the ocean on a three-week trip/cruise to Spain and back (more about that later). So basically, I was winging it on the pie recipe.
   

Nevermind that things weren't line up in my favor; I dove into the pie-making full tilt. Thankfully, my guests were good sports about it too...Linsday seemed genuinely interested in the process and supported me along the way, even when I goofed here and there. And Mason, Madisyn and Noah managed to entertain themselves (in fact, I think Noah was sleeping through most of the pie-making).

I started with the crust, using my Great (times a number I do not know) Aunt Helen's famous "Water Whip Pie Crust." The crust rocks. The secret is to use Butter Crisco and a fair amount of salt, all which helps to make the sweetness of the apples more palatable.

And despite my horrible rolling skills, I managed to get a bottom crust to fully line my pie plate. Trust me, that was a bit of a miracle.

Then came the filling. I think I peeled apples for 30 minutes. Maybe it was less, but it seemed like it took forever! There were at least three different kinds of apples in my pie, and as they piled high I hoped for the best.

As I layered apples, I remembered to sprinkle on flour and sugar... but I completely forgot the cinnamon and butter until AFTER I'd rolled out, layed on and crimped the top crust. So, I had to do a little Grey's Anatomy on my pie and slice along the edge to fold back the crust and add cinnamon. Sadly, I repeated the surgery not five mintues later for the butter. As you might imagine, the structure of the crust paid a hefty price for my sloppy cutting skills, but I was hoping it wouldn't matter in the end.

All in all, I think I did okay. I had no measurements to work with, no recipe... just memories of my mom making hundreds of apples pies as I grew up. I remember her instructing me to sprinkle a little more sugar or add a few more bits of butter. So I just took those memories and hoped for the best.

Here is the result:


I give it a B+. It wasn't exactly like my mom made it, but it was tasty. I took it into work and the ladies each eagerly had a piece for breakfast. Whether they were kind in not wanting to hurt my feelings or if they truly enjoyed it, their pieces disappeared regardless.

I've been happily munching on it for a few days, and I think like my mom's version, "It's better on the second day." David has been my toughest critic. He announced today that "It's missing something." Probably... that's what happens when you don't have a recipe!

So next time... Apple Pie, second draft. I'm hoping for an A-.