Country apple pie is a favorite dessert of men and women alike. Sweet, seasoned apples and a flaky, buttery crust. What’s not to love? It’s classic and perfect! But who would have thought that men like to bake country apple pie, too?!
I mentioned last Sunday on my Basilmomma Facebook page that my husband woke up that morning with a desire to make a pie. Not just any pie mind you but a country apple pie. From scratch.
I asked him 100 questions about why now, why a pie, why apple…just WHY?
His response was,
“I want to make a pie.” But what I heard was “I want you to help me make a pie, and then clean up the mess while I eat it.”
So you can see why I was a little intrigued here. So off we went to pick a gazillion Granny Smith apples for all of my apple needs for the week. I just assumed that he would use my pie recipe. Silly me, thinking that I was the only cook in the house, pulled up my apple pie recipe on the computer and emailed it to him. He quickly thanked me and announced that he was not, in fact, using my recipe. He had found one on the Internet.
What? The Internet?! He knows I have a hard time baking pies – specifically the crusts. I felt the beginnings of a challenge brewing, and he did too!
He came home and was very eager to start baking his country apple pie.
I hid back a little and just watched him. He cleaned his work surface well and got out all of his ingredients. Then he pulled up his recipe of choice on his laptop. I mean, I had never even heard of the website! Then he got down to business.
I asked him if he needed a peeling tutorial. No.
Did he need me to show him how to cut in the shortening? No.
Did he need me to…? “Get out!” was the answer. So I did.
I have never seen a step by step recipe quite like the one he used. Very detailed, and the instructions were so clear a Pie Novice could follow them. Obviously ????
I didn’t even want to add ice cream to the country apple pie! That is saying a lot about how good his pies were.
He later told me that he liked the second pie better because the crust was ‘prettier’. He was right, but both of them had a perfect, flaky crust that complemented the sweet and lightly spiced apple filling. The apples were perfectly cooked. Not too firm, not too soft, and not at all soupy.
He let me cut the country apple pie, and of course I gave him the first piece. It was then known in all the land (well, our house) that there was a new Pie Champion. His new name, according to my sons, was BasilDaddy.