The goal was to make two apple pies to bring to Thanksgiving tomorrow. I succeeded! They even look pretty. But the process of getting there-that wasn't quite so pretty.
It took:
- 10 or so apples, run through the peeler/slicer/corer by a determined Oliver;
- A walk to clear my head and wonder if I really wanted to continue,
- At least five mixing bowls since everyone needed at least one;
- Lots of flour...everywhere (The picture below doesn't do the end product justice);
- A couple piles of flour/water goop..strewn across the floor;
- A large pile of kitchen towels;
- Multiple washings of the table in between rolling every crust to get rid of the goop;
- And a large dose of patience topped off with quite a few quick reflexes...
Baking things that require a bit of space is always an adventure in my kitchen. The adventure comes in trying to find the space. I started these pies on the table, and by the time I was finishing off pinching the crust, I was balanced on the two inches at the edge of the sink (Have you ever realized just how versatile that little space is? I use mine quite a bit) By this time, Elsa was taking a nap, so Oliver and I built a "Pie Man" from the left over crust. I melted some butter, scraped the remains of the pie filling (a little apply-sugary-cinnimony stuff) from the bowl and mixed them together, then spread it on the guy. Oliver made him a face and buttons out of chocolate chips and into the oven he went. A tad bit later, out he came. Oliver was purely excited, until I broke off an arm for us to try...then he was convinced it should be "put back on!!" Oops. But hey, he tasted good!
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