Mini Magic Apple Pie

Once every ten years a recipe that is creative and deliciously disturbing comes my way.  I can’t stop thinking about all the folks I could wow with it.  This decade’s gem comes from my good friend, Stacey Stewart.   Today had been an ordinary Saturday; I had just finished my afternoon nap and flipped the television on to catch up on my Judge Judy reruns.  The bell rang and I stepped on a Lego on my way to answer the door.  No pain, no gain.

There stood Stacey with a piping hot plate of mini magic apple pies

and a side scoop of vanilla bean ice cream.

Was I dreaming?

Mini Magic Apple Pies   -   Preheat oven to 400 degrees

To a mixing bowl add and stir:

Peel and dice eight cups of apples into 1/2″ cubes

12 tablespoons flour

1-1/2 cups of sugar

4 heaping teaspoons of cinnamon

optional:  1/4 to 1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

 You will also need:

4 tablespoons of chilled butter cut into 24 equal pieces

2 boxes of Pillsbury pie crusts (chilled not frozen)

 Directions:

Unroll chilled, NOT FROZEN, pie crust, and cut out 24 circles using a wide mouth mason jar (or large biscuit cutter or a large drinking glass)   Line each cup of your muffin tin with a mini pie crust.  Gently fill the crusts with the apple mixture until slightly mounded.  Top with a dab of butter.

Bake at 400 degrees for 18-20 minutes.

Now You Know

1976 Watching the Tonight Show with Johnny Carson together, every night.

My dad died somewhat unexpectedly in the last hour of the last official day of winter, on March 20, 2007.   The significance of his timing is not lost on me.   When I think about it, he lived exactly as he had always lived, with purpose.  He held on to that final season of his life and let go just moments before the next one.

For almost two years, he had been doctored.  He had endured radiation and chemo with a smile for us and a wink when he saw that we saw how pleased with himself he was for finding a cute, fuzzy toque for his head.   Yet, that winter had come, those late evening hours passed, and spring arrived without him.

My mother and I followed the ambulance to the hospital where he was pronounced.  Devastated, I leaned down to his ear and softly whispered, “Now you know.”    Three little words were all I could muster, but when I think about it now, they are profound.

Since that time I’ve come to know that those we have loved and lost are never really far away.   Through pain, I’ve learned that time is a human measure and touch is a human need. I’ve learned to celebrate his life, not mourn his death.  This is where faith comes in.   I also realized that the way I conduct my affairs and how I treat others directly reflects his legacy.  In everything I do, he remains my compass–my true north.

Now here’s the interesting part:

1968 My dad’s graduation from Roosevelt University in Chicago. My mom used to drive under the post office to pick him up at night from college. We were tucked in blankets in the back seat.

Not only is my dad sitting on my shoulder these days, but he enjoys letting me know.    My mom, my brother, and I fish in Michigan’s upper peninsula every year for vacation.   The first thing I do when I get there is to fire up my dad’s Merc 60 and take his bass boat up Corbett’s Creek to our special fishing spot to see if they are still hittin’.   Without fail, the motor quits.  Every time, every year, six years straight.  I sit there on the silent creek and smile.  Faith.

He made sure we knew he was present at his eulogy, too.  There had been a story told about my parent’s first date where he nervously spilled a whole glass of ice water on my mom at dinner.  Then she told a story about more water spills; it was their kind of  “luck” when they went out.  At the funeral luncheon, a waiter shouldering a large tray brought eight glasses of water to our table.  Just like a bad movie, he tripped–and toppled the eight full glasses of ice water down my daughter’s back.  Everyone jumped up, jumped back, and got bug eyed thinking to themselves, “It can’t be!”

1982 Mom and Dad at a rest area on the way to Michigan to visit their first grandchild. Mom was a grandma at 38.

A few weeks later my mother’s two sisters were up at our farm and we took a walk to a little pond on our property while mom rested back at the truck.  We were standing on the shore talking and enjoying the woods and water when one of my aunts thought to ask if there were any fish in the pond.   I was right in the middle of telling her how my son, Adam, and Gramps had jury rigged a fish finder to a little row boat a few summers back and rowed all over the four acre lake looking for fish.  At the exact moment I said that my dad had said, “There are absolutely no fish in this pond,” A FISH JUMPED COMPLETELY OUT OF THE WATER.   Our jaws hung open, our brains couldn’t process what our eyes had seen, and my aunt was the first one to dare utter, “That was your dad!”     Faith.

These random water events are not his only form of amusement.  There are others that I’m reserving for another time.  I used to think I was crazy or desperate or wishful.  Now I know.

“There’s one form of immortality that I like to think about.

It is that all those that from the very first have given anything to the world are living in the world today.”

Dad’s perfect cast, and my perfect timing, on Corbetts Creek

Grandpa’s girls, Sarah and Jennifer

Gramps’ Pride and Joy, his grandson, “Jim, the Marine”

Decisions

I decided to trim my dog’s nails today.  My dog decided her nails didn’t need it, didn’t want it, and wouldn’t have it.  Not today, not ever.    I took this as one of those rare opportunities to show her who is the sheriff in this town.   Beauty vs. the Beast–you decide.

It began the moment she caught a glimpse of the orange handled clippers.  Suddenly her ears quit working and she slunk down low to the ground, making herself as small and helpless as possible.  Remi turned her chocolate head away from me thinking that if she couldn’t see me, then I couldn’t find her.  Being in full command of the situation, I held my ground and intensified my tone, “Remi, come.”  “R E M I…C O M E !!!”  “Come here you devil dog.”  “NOW.”  “I see you.  Remi COME.”    “You want a treat?”

Once she was in position, paws up and sandwiched between my legs, I cinched her with my kneecaps and got busy on the first of sixteen nails.  Half of her nails are white and you can easily see the pink blood line.  The others are solid black so it is a little like Russian roulette.   In four years I’ve only made her bleed once.  Pretty good odds.

Remi, by AKC definition, is:  “A versatile hunter and all-purpose gun dog, the German Shorthaired Pointer possesses keen scenting power and high intelligence except when clipping time rolls around. The breed is proficient with many different types of game and sport , including trailing, retrieving, and pointing pheasant, quail, grouse, waterfowl, raccoons, and possum.”

The tricky part about nail trimming is getting a grip on all the parts when you need them.  I have to spin her around to do the other set of paws while she is still restrained on her back.  I just hog tie her with my hands and and swing her fore to aft like a puppet on a string.  Years of practice, my friends.  Don’t try this at home.

About halfway through the job and all the way through her patience, she shot me the skunk eye and started up with her whimpering bull crap.   When that failed to impress, she went to plan B:  yanking her paw out of my hand, feigning a mortal wound, and trying to break free.  I’ve been to this rodeo before, so send in the clowns.  Eventually we got done wearing each other out and the job is done.  Each is glad to be rid of the other.

I’m the sheriff all right, just call me Barney Fife.

Mint Pudding Cups

Mint Pudding Cups

Prep time: 15 mins Cook time: 5 mins Total time: 20 mins
Serves: 3

Easy mint pudding cups are the perfect treat for St. Patrick’s Day.
Ingredients
6 Mint Oreo cookies
1 tbsp butter
Instant vanilla pudding (small package)
2 cups milk
¼ tsp mint extract
green food coloring
whipped cream
sugar sprinkles (optional)

Instructions
Pulse cookies and butter in a food processor until finely ground.
Divide the cookie mixture between your serving bowls and press firmly.  Make pudding according to the package directions, adding ¼ tsp of mint extract and 2-3 drops of green food coloring. Pour the pudding into your serving bowls leaving about ¼ inch for the whipped cream.  Let the pudding set up and then add whipped cream & sprinkles.

Camping Fever

This cold-hot-cold-snow-melt-ice-hot-cold-windy-slushy in between season called March in Mid-Michigan is giving me a headache along with a serious case of camping fever.  It started when the sun came out last week and melted all the snow, exposing grass for the first time in forever.  To top that off, I saw a skunk in the road and had to wonder if it meant six more weeks of anything?

Yesterday I spied my first robin red breast full of blue eggs bouncing on the ground, collecting sticks and string.  Spring has arrived!   Now I’m deliriously dreaming about roasting marshmallows over a snapping flame with a stick I carved a tip into using my trusty Swiss while warmly wearing my Woolrich red and black buffalo check jacket with the big brown buttons buttoned just to keep the chill off.  Got all that?

My hibernating mind is starting to wake up with the crocuses and think about the smell of cowboy coffee boiling in my Grandpa’s metal pot and bacon sizzling in a heavy cast iron skillet surrounded by eggs, over easy.   I love the sound of kerosene gas flowing up into a Coleman lantern at night which, upon ignition, instantly becomes a bug magnet.  We always keep the lantern hanging on a nail, way up and off to the side,  just to trick the skeeters.

Soon it will be time to go mushroom hunting and time to put all the lawn chairs in a circle around the fire and time to sing Three Dog Night’s Joy to the World and time to collect mint leaves to brew Grandma’s mint tea and time to gather drift wood in the bow of a row boat and and time to pick daisies and black-eyed susans and time to wear flip-flops and time to chop wood and time to catch a fish and time to discover new trails on hikes and time to see eagles soar and time to see deer in the woods and time to catch a lightning bug and time to skinny dip and time to tell ghost stories and time to drop blueberries into a tin cup and time to appreciate a full moon and time to dig up a can of worms and time to take a picture of a sunrise and time to grill and time to just be happy and time to open the graham crackers and time to fire up the ‘ol Johnson 20 and time to strip down into your skivvies and crawl into the sack….exhausted from not having enough time when it comes to camping!