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American as Apple PieApple pie is so synonymous with America that most of us can't separate the facts from fiction. A recent snowy weekend of research produced some interesting details along with an awakening of personal memories of apples on the farm of my childhood. For much of America's colonial history, we grew apples for cider- hard cider that is. But as the temperance movement of the mid-to-late 1800's gained momentum, teetotalers searched for an alternate use of apples. During this period a profusion of apple dishes appeared including many versions of apple pie. In sync with the rise of the temperance movement came a drop in the price of grain. Faced with orchards of ripe apples and silos of cheap wheat, frugal cooks turned to- what else? Apple pie. America came to be regarded as a godly republic boasting a bountiful harvest of nature's resources. Apple trees flourished in our soil and apple pie came to be a symbol of American abundance. During the civil war both Union and Confederate troops chronicled their survival on apple pie in letters and diaries. Soldiers could gather green apples from the orchards and "borrow" flour from cabins and farmhouses along the way. Pies were fried or pan baked wherever hot embers were to be found. Many are the tales of stolen apple pie while cooling on a window ledge. When the Industrial Revolution hit America's shores, apple pie came to be equated with affluence. In a 1902 editorial by The New York Times the author preaches "Pie is the American synonym for prosperity, and its varying contents the calendar of the changing seasons. Pie is the food of the heroic. No pie-eating people can ever be vanquished." This piece of hyperbole came as a response to German and English articles which labeled America "on the shoals of roast beef and apple pie." And that "our daily slice of apple pie was tantamount to gluttony." Apples were also in abundance on Rush Creek Farm, where I grew up in West Virginia. Apple trees were in our front lawn, a large cluster grew in the upper meadow and yet a still greater orchard held court in a meadow near the hilltop. The ripe fruits' perfume followed us on the breezes from summer to late fall. There were many varieties with names like General Grant and Shenandoah Splendor, none of which ever made it to the modern grocer. Some of the trees produced a soft aromatic fruit which bruised easily and required a hasty harvest to halt the birds and rabbits at their 24 hour banquet. The skin was flashed with dark pink and white. The juicy white flesh had undertones of honey and the perfume of jasmine. Women from neighboring farms joined my Grandmother in a dawn to dark marathon of converting the baskets of bee covered fruit into applesauce and apple butter. Once canned, these sauces and butters became a daily companion on our table for breakfast, dinner and supper. The firm fleshed fruit were usually darker in color. Hues ranged from a rusty bronze to a bright red or jade green. These were "the eating apples" as my grandfather called them. Eating apples were usually processed in three ways. First, many were sliced, cooked and canned with a small amount of sugar in order to be able to prepare pies throughout the winter months. Second, the firmest ones, usually dark red, were layered in bushel baskets with either oat or wheat straw. Fond memories are related to the juicy reward for shoveling through the snow to the root cellar where the apples were stored. Third and most important in my "taste" memory were dried apples. They were peeled, sliced and sun dried on the tin roof of the barn until golden with the texture of soft leather. And now dear reader, we have arrived at the moment that I must confess to why a column on apple pie in February. Those dried apples were placed in large tins and stored in the smokehouse for safekeeping. When the snows came my grandmother stewed them and made fried pies. Six snowfalls during the past week here in Andrews has brought my taste buds to a crisis of desire for one of those hot, steamy, greasy concoctions. Through mittened hands, I can almost feel the warm tender pastry spilling out its contents as I attack the hillside with my sled. Imagination and childhood aside, I think the wise thing to do is to have my fried pie with steamy hot coffee here at the kitchen table while watching the cardinals at their feeder. FRIED APPLE PIE This recipe uses store bought dried apples and boasts a crust made with Coca-Cola. It is easy to work with and, thanks to the Coca-Cola, is just a slight bit sweet. CRUST Three cups all-purpose flour One teaspoon salt One cup Coca-Cola which has been allowed to go flat Mix flour, salt and Coke together to form a soft dough. Roll dough out on a large floured surface very thin. Cut out circles using a butter plate or saucer as a guide. Refrigerate pastry circles while preparing filling. FILLING One half pound dried apples One cup sugar Four cups water One half teaspoon cinnamon Combine all four ingredients in a medium large pot. Bring to boil then reduce to a simmer. Cook for approximately twenty minutes, until all water is absorbed and fruit is fall-apart tender. Let cool until just warm. PREPARATION Put a scoop of apple mixture on the bottom lip of each crust and brush edge with water. Fold over and crimp edges with a fork. In a cast iron skillet put in one half cup oil and heat over medium-high heat ( Grandmother used lard). When oil is sizzle hot, fry pies in small batches until browned, approx 3-4 minutes per side. Lift from skillet with slotted spatula and place on paper towels. Dust with powdered sugar if desired. |
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