Friday, July 20, 2007
The Treachery of Images Redux; or, Let Me Call You Sweetheart
Yesterday I made an apple pie, a great, gigantic pie. This pie was (and as the writer David Barry would word it), and I Am Not Making This Up, 6 inches high before I placed it into the oven. Just as the sandwich from that famous franchise with a name declaring the weight of its meat also comes with an asterisk to alert one that the frying of the patty will diminish the magnitude of its meat---- the pie did collapse somewhat during the baking, as the apples continued to soften, for I had only partially cooked the filling. All in all, still a pretty and a substantial pie, tagged with that Radiant-Baby-style heart for a steam vent.
As I stretched the top crust of the pie over the mound of apples (smelling of cardamom, smelling of clove and lemon and maple), Little Guy entered the kitchen. I've got this great, beaming grin on my face. I'm happy as I do so love when a pie crust works well: so well that it can stretch over a 6-inch tall mound of apples, and still keep hold to the bottom crust, and hold that seal all along the rim of the tin. I'm happy because this pastry is the other half of the batch I made from Almeda's recipe. I'm just happy because, well, it's apple pie, and I'm going to get some vanilla bean ice cream so that we can all scoop some to eat on top of it, warmed from the oven.
LG looks at the pie-almost-finished; he looks to me. My grin gets wider. I'm happy that he's caught me in the act. Won't he be so happy? What does he say?
I can't believe Devin Hester won over Ryan Howard for Breakthrough Athlete!
Sometimes a pie just is, well, a pie.
And even so, dear reader, I took the silver sliver of a paring knife, and tagged the pie, with that Radiant-Baby-style heart, right into the center of the crust, and slid it into the heat of the oven, so that we might dig into it, cracking the crust, and scoop up its tart-sweetness, and gild the lily, by adding more sweetness on top, and spoon up tart-cold-hot-sweetness all in one bite: I slid the pie into the oven to soften its heart.