Of pies and personality

I made an apple pie today.

As part of my New Year’s purge and perennial organization plan, I started sifting through the contents of one of my freezers. Yes, I have two freezers, a chest and an upright. After a summer of putting nothing new into the chest freezer, I think I can finally move what’s left into the upright and defrost.

As I started sorting through the remaining sauces, veggies, various meat items, and the occasional “mystery” package, I came across a bag of sliced apples I froze in September of 2009. If I remember correctly, they’re not the best apples in the world, being a result of "The Great Coupon Mania Of ’09".

Back then, one could print off innumerable Target coupons, all for the same item.

And print I did.

Then girls and I would head out to the nearest Super Target, armed with multiple coupons for bananas, breads, and apples... you name it, we couponed it. In September, I found coupons for 1 pound of free apples. So, off we trotted to Target, coupons in hand. We each gathered 1 pound of apples at a time, going through the checkout in a row, paying a couple cents each for our bounty. A quick trip to the car to deposit the goods, and we’d be back in produce before you knew it.

Target no longer has such a lenient coupon policy.

I might be the reason why.

Anyway, the apples turned out not to be such a great deal, being of the tasteless, shipped-in-from-a-million-miles-away, variety. My solution? Slice, sugar, and freeze for pies.

Of course, an apple pie is truly only as good as its apples, so the pies turned out to be somewhat disappointing, but nothing a heft scoop of vanilla ice cream couldn't remedy.

Mmm, there's nothing like a piece of Mom's disappointing apple pie with a scoop of vanilla!.

Let’s just say I learned my lesson and leave it at that.

But this morning, I found myself holding that last bag of disappointing apples. Not being able to throw it out, disappointing apple pie has been added to tonight’s menu.

As I dumped the apples into the crust, I started thinking about the women in my life and their apple pies. I never had one of my mother-in-law’s pies. After 12 children and the life of a farm wife in the '50s and '60s, I think her pie-maker was worn out.

My mom makes a mean apple pie, though it is quite different from mine. Hers has no top crust, while mine has the crumble topping of French apple. Mom’s apple pie is quite sweet; just thinking about it I can taste the syrupy deliciousness of the cooked juices. I don’t think she’s ever used a recipe to make her crust, but it turns out flaky and delicate every time. These days, she thinks nothing of making a pie or two and taking them to the neighbors.

I tend not to be quite so generous.

I remember when my Grandma was going to show me how to make an apple pie. My uncle and cousin were heading out on vacation in their camper and I wanted to make them some treats to take along. Grandma suggested an apple pie and tapioca pudding, two of my uncle’s favorites.

Grandma and I didn’t get along all that well. I spent the summers at her farm house for years, but we never quite clicked. If I remember correctly, Grandma wanted to get it done and I was procrastinating. I think when you were born in the late 1800s and were a farm wife, you learned to get things done - if you put them off, you might not have enough to eat that winter. The consequences for procrastinating were never quite dire-enough for me to change my "I'll do it later" attitude.

Grandma’s idea of teaching me how to make a pie upset me, too. I wanted to make the pie, she wanted me to watch her do it and learn. So I fumed as I watched her make the pie.

Without a recipe, of course.

I was 13 at the time, which might have had a little something to do with our conflict.

Anyway, I remember watching Grandma lay her precisely sliced apples - really, they were all exactly the same width - in a perfect spiral in the crust. She actually laid the apples in the crust one at a time. Slightly different from my slice, stir, and dump method of crust-filling.

Sadly, I don’t remember what Grandma’s apple pies tasted like, though in the image that comes to mind when I think of her, she’s always sitting at the table peeling apples over a tub.

My pies tend to be messy, rather unattractive things. They’re always running over, getting a little too brown in spots, or ending up slightly undercooked. But they always taste good.

I guess you could say I see a little bit of myself in my pies. A little messy on the outside, but worth a second look.

My girls aren’t interested in pie-making. Maybe someday when they have families of their own they’ll ask for a lesson. Or a recipe.

No one ever actually taught me how to make a pie (Grandma's lesson sort of went in one ear and out the other). I kind of ended up figuring it out for myself.

So I guess you can tell a lot about a person and how she makes a pie.

Just please remember one thing.

Don’t use disappointing apples no matter how cheap they are.

Every pie deserves better than that.