It’s apple-pie weather!

It arrives on the first pre-autumnal winds off the Lake, heralded by flotillas of gray and blue clouds. Windows opened all summer are shut. Sleeping at night is house quiet. No fans to drone one to sleep. Not even a cricket.

During apple-pie weather, one’s fancy turns to sweatshirts. Resurrected like lost memories. Whole wardrobes, summer dormant and folded, emerge from chrysalis of drawer and closet.

In the basement, one warily eyes leaf rakes and furnace filters. Dream of yet unplanted tulip beds. Hope for a few more days, even weeks, of warmer weather.

During apple-pie weather, one pays attention to that which went unnoticed, taken for granted all summer--the trees. This is the time we pay homage to their foliage, gauging this one and that for those first brilliant colors.

During apple-pie weather, orchards are bent and burdened with their harvest. Redcoats all in neat rows. They don’t surrender. They yield. And the great American apple pie is their gift. Our victory.

There are, of course, certain secrets to a great apple pie. The first cardinal rule is never to use just one variety of apple. An apple pie, like our culture, should be pluralistic in nature. Which also includes the spices. I loathe bland pies made only with cinnamon and white sugar. Where is the nutmeg? The allspice? The great handful of moist, brown sugar? Where is the whirly-twirl yellow ribbon of lemon zest that some lucky soul will get to bite into, along with apples and crust?  

Today, making this greatest of comfort food is a zip. I use an  Amish apple peeler that also cores and slices each apple. One-two-three and I’m done! And one can buy crusts already rolled out. Although one can’t beat homemade, especially with that forgotten, magic ingredient anathema to today’s healthy American cuisine: lard. 

Other than homemade bread and chicken soup, I can’t think of any smell, any aroma to better fill a house, or a season, than apple pie.

 copyright 2010 Gary T. Czerwinski