Christmas pies

Well before Christmas, I brought a bag of heirloom apples home to eat. Life intervened, and they remained tucked cooly away gently softening. I rescued them on the 24th and used them for one of the two pies I baked for Christmas dinner. Hudson Golden Gems, Golden Russets, Ashmead’s Kernels, and Hubbardston Nonesuches. The apples had lost some of their natural tartness, but the pie was not bad at all.

I’m chuffed that I am beginning to create really good, light, flaky crust. I’ve learned that the amount of liquid required varies tremendously depending, I suppose, on the amount of moisture in the air. This time, I used twice the usual amount. Also, after deep study and experimentation, I’m finally developing a good edge-crimping technique. Brain surgery isn’t in it.

The other pie was mince, very much not a favorite of mine. The guest for whom it was created, though, called the best he’d ever had (thanks, Dad, sorry about the memory loss).

As my late mother-in-law used to say in joking self-deprecation, “Pin a rose on me.”

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