I traveled to Apple Hill with my church friends. The crowds caused us to spend more time in the car than in the actual orchards. At our second stop, I managed to find a couple frozen pies to bring home. In a corner of the barn, a nice farmer demonstrated a apple peeler and slicer combo gadget. As my neighbor just gifted six pounds of Granny Smiths, the novelty of zipping through those puppies with the help of a machine caused me to part with $29.95 plus tax.
Excited, I hurried to join my friends and show off my new tool. No sooner that I sat down, Doris pointed out that the gadget came with free apples. With my receipt, I went back to claim my prize. With pride I filled my bag with five pounds of Pippens. I walked back, sat down, and realized I have eleven pounds of apples to make into something. I mean...cook. Dom Dom dah.
Undaunted, I went home and put the gadget to work on my kitchen counter. Stabbing and spinning the apples was fun. But now I had a bowl filled to the rim with browning apple spirals. Something had to be done. I pulled pre-formed graham cracker crusts from the pantry and started layering apple slices, flour, sugar, cinnamon, and butter. When the pile domed, I mixed instant hot oatmeal and maple cereal with melted butter to form a crumble crust. I popped that puppy in the oven at 350 degrees.
My kitchen wiped out. I'm a messy cook. I saw that there were still enough apples to feed the local kindergarten. Which in retrospect would have been a great idea. Instead I filled another graham shell and repeated the process. Apples, apples every where. I emptied the sink full of peels and cores three times. Finally, reason took hold. I remembered my apple butter recipe.
I baked nine spiraled apples wrapped in aluminum foil. Threw all of the squishy baked goodness and the subsequent juices into my Shark blender with tons of cinnamon and a dash on Algave syrup. Apple Butter. Yummy and the apples are gone. I still have frozen pies to eat.