All-American Apples

I have been feeling incredibly proud to be American as of late. One of the interesting things about the process of food writing is that you discover a great deal of what makes you tick as a person. I have explored ethnic cuisine, and have read about the history of food and its direct correlation to culture. I have cooked things that have no reference point in my my own upbringing, and have explored ingredients from across the globe. And when all is said and done, I cannot help but return to a place of gratitude for the fact that I had a privileged upbringing in this wonderful country. A country so diverse that a notion of a clearly defined 'American' cuisine is virtually impossible to define (it brings tears to my eyes that many people in the world would consider fast food as our defining culinary offering). This is not about politics, conquest, the lens of history, or some notion of global superiority. My country is my home, and I love it dearly. I never went hungry as a child. I was given a wonderful education. I was allowed to be the person I became, to think freely, to express myself as I saw fit. This has not been the collective experience of every American, but we continue to make strides to realize a better America for everyone. The story of our country is certainly sordid at times, but I am enamored with the manner by which so many people have come here to forge a new existence, a better life, pulling up a seat at the the table for "a piece of the American pie", a pie that in my humble estimation would most certainly have to include apples.

The apple is a remarkable ingredient to say the least. Its mapped genome contains 57,000 genes in comparison to a human being which clocks in at about 30,000. That makes it one amazingly complex fruit, and it has spread around the world with a seemingly endless amount of varieties available today. Like so many of our ancestors, apples are not native to the Americas, first coming to this country with colonists who quickly planted seeds and developed orchards upon arrival. Most of the apples went to the production of cider (cider always referred to the alcoholic beverage until Prohibition when unfiltered apple juice came to be called cider, with anything containing alcohol now referred to as hard cider) which became the most common beverage of Colonial America. Young and old enjoyed alcohol with every meal, making it hard to imagine how so many things actually got done. With their apple seeds the colonists also brought recipes for pie, which had been a staple since medieval times. Over the centuries Apple Pie has become part of the American lexicon for good reason, with greater results. It is delicious, it tends to conjure up nostalgic memories, and it is something best made in the home. I long for the days when home economics was part of a basic education. Bring it back, and make the gentlemen take it as well, and for God's sake, teach our next generation how to make pie!

With a healthy helping of American pride, and an ever-growing fascination with apples I came to the conclusion that making an apple pie was paramount to an enjoyable fall season. I had never made a pie from scratch, so I perused several recipes until I felt that I had a pretty good base of knowledge for the technique. Throughout the process of making the pie I tried to keep memories of childhood at the forefront of my mind. Cooking has a wonderful way of bringing out the distilled essence of the events that make up the formative years of our existence. In the case of apples I was blessed with a New England upbringing wherein fall was always marked by trips to orchards to pick or buy apples and fresh unfiltered apple juice (cider as it is best known today). This would always be followed by a fresh baked apple pie, which has a way of scenting a home in a way that seems just right, for lack of a better description. With these images and scents floating through my consciousness I set out to bake a flaky pie. The results were lovely, though it quickly became apparent to me that pie making is most certainly an art learned over time, which probably accounts for the lack of home production these days. It is all about the crust, the humble, yet defining vehicle for the apples we love so much. My pie was delicious, flaky, and just far enough from what I remember to make apple pie my current project. As soon as I craft my rendition of the perfect apple pie, the recipe will be posted. Until then I will continue to experiment, thoroughly enjoying every mistake and triumph along the path.

With the current abundance of apples at the farmers market, in all their inexpensive and tasty glory, I decided to also try my hand at some form of an apple cake. I settled on an Apple Kuchen, which is a German cake by ancestry. I love the idea of new people bringing old food to our land, and the Kuchen seemed to embody that perfectly. I made a Brown Sugar and Cinnamon Apple Kuchen with New England Cranberries. Because of my propensity for moistness when it comes to cake, I decided to make an apple jelly (essentially homemade apple sauce pressed through a tamis to remove any trace of fibrousness, allowing for a silky mouthfeel) and a classic creme anglaise for service. It looked amazing, and filled the house with a smell reminiscent of Christmas, a fireplace, and a well written short story. This morning it made for a wonderful day starter, as an accompaniment to press pot coffee. I will continue to cook with apples, and I will continue to love my American experience, fore they seem to go hand in hand.

"For Mom and Apple Pie"

-stock answer given by soldiers to journalists when asked why they were going off to fight in World War II