Grandma's Apple Pie

Step One: Open a can of premade pastry and roll into two equal circles.

I can’t believe I’ve resorted to canned pastry. After all these decades of making my own from scratch. It’s barbaric. The grandkids swear it tastes the same; that they don’t care either way. I can tell though. I can taste the additives and colourings. The tinge of mass production scarring the dough.

Alas there is nothing to be done, my old hands can only handle so much these days. Gosh, when did I lose the smooth, supple things that my mind could will into anything. The fingers that intertwined with those of so many young men, making their eyes light up with pleasure from my flirtatious touch. Those were the days! Days my beloved Alfred never learned of. He always assumed he was my first love, who was I to correct him!

Oof, even running this rolling pin aches now. These wrinkled, tired hands that have made innumerable prize-winning pies, struggling to roll a batch of foamy swill from the store. What a sad state of affairs.

Those grandchildren of mine will love it though. I can’t disappoint. Grandma having pie freshly baked is expected. Dug my own grave there. I do hope they make it this time…

Step Two: Preheat oven to 400°F

Ah yes, mustn’t forget. It’s the big switch on the wall first. That’s that. Now which dial was it, the one on the right to four hundred. Oops, too far, dial it back. That’s it, all set.

These new electric ovens, my goodness what a lot of nonsense. Give me back my old gas-powered girl. One switch on, one switch off. All solid metal and loud clicks. None of the bells and whistles that no one ever uses anyway; I just put it to the same setting every time and ignore the rest.

I’ll need to get James to show me how it all works when he gets here. I don’t know how on earth those big brains came from me and my Alfred. How he understands these computers and machines so easily is beyond little old me. He’s a good boy…I hope he comes today like he promised. He will make sure the grandkids come too, and I’ll get to see them all together. That hasn’t happened since Christmas!

Step Three: Peel, core and slice seven Granny Smith apples.

My favourite part! Shame these are store bought too. Once upon a time they would have been fresh from our little cottage garden, tended diligently by Alfred.

The new apartment isn’t so bad, at least there’s no upkeep beyond a few pots in the courtyard. Plenty of time for baking instead. I do miss the green landscape filling my windows though, grey stone and brick is far from inspiring.

“OUCH!”

Oh goodness. That’s a sharp peeler! Oh, and a little bit of blood too. Oh my. A band aid should take care of that. Bother, James will worry when he sees it.

My voice though, that ouch was a little croaky, it hurts more than my finger. How long has it been since I’ve used it? Let’s see, I was at the grocery store picking all this up two days ago…did I speak to the cashier? I’m not sure if I did…

Step Four: In a large bowl, combine the sliced apples, granulated sugar, light brown sugar, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, lemon juice and lemon zest; toss to coat evenly.

A little extra cinnamon is the key. It’ll give that extra hit of apple pie flavour. Can’t use my hands now, not with that lemon juice and an open wound. It’ll have to be a wooden spoon. This poor pie has been deprived of quality ingredients and now I’ll be denying it that ounce of love too! Oh well. The youngsters say they can’t tell the difference anyway.

I wonder how they’re getting on. Two boys off at college, starting their own lives. Busy all the time. Who can blame them, there’s so much to discover at that age. How I do miss when they were little and would come running up to sit on grandma’s knee! I think they’d crush me if they did that now!

Goodness me, when did a bowl of apple slices get so heavy! Best to mix a few at a time, I don’t think I can move the whole batch in one turn anymore.

I should get my tush moving. They said it would be around this time, if they could make it. They won’t want to wait around for a slice!

Step Five: Place one pastry disk into pie dish, pressing firmly into the corners and trim any excess with a knife. Add apple filling and top with the second pastry disc, trimming and crimping the edges.

What am I going to do with all these off cuts? They were Alfreds favourite bit. I’d twist them into a little flower and sit it on top, just for him. The man of the house always got the pastry flower, that was the rule. Perhaps I should do it for James this time? He might appreciate that.

Shame my little table isn’t going to be big enough for everyone. We won’t all be able to sit around like we used to. Perhaps one day James will be able to afford a big house like we had when he was young. Then perhaps he will host big dinners, as Alfred and I used to. The world is different now though I suppose. That doesn’t really happen anymore. Not the house, nor the table.

Right then, that’s one pie made well enough. I hope it really does taste the same as ‘Grandmas Apple Pie’ always used to!

Step Six: Brush with an egg wash and place into the oven for 40 minutes until golden brown.

Oh yes! Almost forgot. It won’t shine without a little egg. Now where’s that brush…

Beautiful! At least it looks the part now! Into the oven it goes…oh…oh dear. It’s still cold. Oh, what did this blasted thing do now. Was I supposed to press this one? There it goes. Goodness, now I’ll have to wait for it to heat up again…stupid thing.

James and the grandkids will laugh at me for this one! If he suggests that awful retirement village again so help me, he will get the back end of my wooden spoon. I am perfectly capable; these machines are just overcomplicated.

Step Seven: Remove from oven, allow to cool then slice and serve with ice cream.

Alright, let’s take a look. Oh wonderful! It looks just like it should! Marvelous how sub-par pies can stand up against the real thing on sight alone. Let’s reserve judgement for the tasting. I’ll just set it down to cool a little and fingers crossed that son of mine and his not-so-little ones will be here while it’s still warm.

They should have been here by now. I thought I was the one running late but lucky for me they seem to be too.

Step Eight: Slice, pack into containers and freeze the portions.

Oh well. Wouldn’t want to waste it. Maybe they’ll have time to drop-in next month. I suppose I can always defrost it. Or make another…