My cooking ability, or lack there of, never ceases to amaze me.
Some how recipes that call to take a half hour take an hour at the least, some how the directions never are clear enough for me and always something ends up as it shouldn’t be (just check out that confused chicken).
Way to long ago to actually disclose, I bought a bag of apples — I ate one. The bag has been taking up room in my fridge for quite some time now and through a series of events, that are irrelevant, I came across a Caramel Apple Pie recipe that looked easy enough to give a try. I figured Thanksgiving was the prefect excuse to try it out — I mean, Mom has to eat & smile about anything her kids make, right?
My brother came over to the house & we began to bake.
The recipe called for some Pillsbury pie crust, but when you wait till the last minute to bake a pie and you have no pie pan, that doesn’t always work out. My brother picked up a graham cracker pie crust in the tin since we had nothing to bake this pie in and some store brand pie crust.
Let the baking commence.
A graham cracker pie crust in the trash later we had the pie pan full of a new pie crust bottom and the caramel made. The apples had been “cored” as the recipe called for and filled the bottom pie crust. The top crust had been cut into eight strips and laid four over four. Not to bad for two kids who rarely bake.
We poured the caramel sauce over the top creating a minimal and manageable mess, pre-heated the oven then stuck the pie in.
While prepping our pie came under ridicule for not having pealed skin, being green apples not red and not haven a woven the crust top. Little did we know these were the left out parts of the instructions that everyone who saw the pie would bring up.
The pie needed t bake at 425 degrees for 15 minutes then 350 degrees for another 30-40 minutes.
My brother and I were scheduled to be at our Mom’s house by 2pm and did not put the pie into the oven until nearly 1:30pm — looked like we were going to be late.
As the pie baked the oven began to smoke. Seems our caramel sauce had boiled and spilled out our unwoven top. (This made it tons of fun for my boyfriend’s Mom to cook their Thanksgiving dinner in our stove.)
Despite “cooling” from a little after 2pm until about 4:30pm, the caramel sauce never seemed to thicken as the recipe stated it would.
Mom smiled when she saw the pie, commented on the apple skin and then gave my brother a hard time for not weaving the top. Yet, despite all everyone wanted a slice of the apple pie my brother and I brought, not the half burnt pumpkin my Mom baked nor the cold homemade apple pie my Mom had also baked.
I did learn that there maybe a lack of a cooking gene in my family — my Mom’s cold apple pie had a hint of pumpkin to it and her pumpkin pie had somehow only been burnt on one half.