There’s something about autumn that inspires a flurry of baking. Maybe it’s the fact that the apples are plentiful and need preserving. Or maybe it’s a prelude to the long hibernation of winter. Whatever the reason, there’s an absolute deliciousness to the season.
This year marks the first year in several years’ tradition now that The Man We Call Dad did not take the kids apple picking. It didn’t bother me that they didn’t go — we’ve been busy with all sorts of other fun things, not the least of which has been long, lazy moments devouring chapter after chapter of Kevin Hearne’s Hounded together.
At least, it didn’t bother me until we went to my sister-in-law’s for Thanksgiving dinner and she happily showed off cupboards full of canning jars filled with apples in various forms, including an absolutely delicious apple pie filling.
Just that fast, I was bothered.
In fact, I was positively nostalgic for the year The Man We Call Dad went just a little overboard on the apple picking and brought me home 80 pounds of apples.
So nostalgic that when we arrived at the grocery store to pick up a few essentials like milk and cheddar cheese, pita bread, and ice cream, I was pleased beyond measure to find the annual autumn bins of pumpkins and apples.
They’re huge, those bins. You could get lost in there if you aren’t careful. But they are filled with most fragrant, sweet, juicy MacIntosh apples you’ve ever seen.
Lots of them.
So we brought a few home and I immediately put them to good use:
Isn’t autumn delicious?