This was supposed to be a recipe for an easy version of apple pie, or at least that was my intent when I started peeling and coring four Granny Smith apples at the counter last Wednesday night.
As part of my mission to avoid yet another kitchen disaster, I had been taking every possible easy route: choosing a simple recipe, peeling all the required apples in one step, doing that peeling while I was sitting down so as not to exert any unnecessary effort for something that might not turn out and not even using a printed recipe because I had memorized the basic steps from looking at them for so long, really analyzing whether or not I could trust this new combination of ingredients and steps and would it be worth the trouble? In most of life, this fragile attitude would be something to work through, but in this case, it really worked to my advantage.
Each time I’d finish peeling one of the apples, its curly green skins spread out on the cutting board in front of me, I’d plop its little body into the adjacent round casserole dish, keeping it from rolling away while also leaving the counter clean. And thing is, once I set that final apple into the dish, the four of them lined up next to each other like they were meant to stay that way, ready to be poached or roasted or something, it became crystal clear to me that these apples weren’t for a pie, but instead they had a different fate. I should bake them, bake them whole, stuffed with some sort of sugar and oats mixture that could get all hot and gooey inside and bubble on top and down the sides. It was so obvious.
In the spirit of finishing, I welcome you to a first ever at Food Loves Writing: a five-part recap of recipes and other things that could have been whole posts in themselves but, for one reason or another didn’t make the cut and almost didn’t make it to you, but, today, at their good fortune, are getting a second chance.
These are the didn’t-make-its and misfits of the kitchen, the ones set aside for later or forgotten about as soon as they were photographed, so now, like the vegetables in my fridge I’m always thinking about, they are being pulled out, in order to not be wasted. Here goes.
1) First there were the green beans, boiled until cooked but still crisp, and covered in a homemade basil dressing. The dressing was bleh, at best, but the blessed beans were still edible, as green beans usually are, and I can’t remember now, but I think a few days later they were washed off to become green beans cooked with butter or something brainless like that. The lesson here is that you really can’t ruin green beans or, at least, it must be very, very hard, and if I were in the mood for a longer post, I might say that’s just another reason to love them.
2) Then there were the sugar puffs.
Take me to the country, where farms and fields hug the highways and roadside stands sell 14 EARS OF SWEET CORN for $4 total, and I am powerless to resist it all.
It won’t matter that I have no idea what to do with the corn, for example. It won’t matter that I am one person and 14 ears of corn are, well, an awfully large amount of corn for one person. I will take them, hug them in a green plastic bag, set them in the back seat while we go antiquing in a sleepy town named Sandwich and to a little diner that sells chicken fries and mini hamburgers. And I’ll keep telling you things like, This is fresh sweet corn! The kind where I can look at the field it grew in! Straight from the farm! And you’ll know I am a happy girl.