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Apple Pie (2)
by Angela ThomasI spend hours peeling, coring, slicing up bitter green apples.
A little lime keeps them from spoiling, going brown and limp.
Sugar, cinnamon, and some cornstarch, to thicken, join them in a large iron pot.
I will stir them until they boil up just right, tender to the tooth and caramel coated.
You have to scorch them a little to make them sweet enough to give off their juices.
I will use my tough hands to crush a warm delicate crumb-meal like crust into a pie plate.
The apples are then placed precisely so to look like a flower opening in bloom.
More crumb topping gets pressed on, so it can go into the oven to bake, and I can wait.
Unfortunately, I will, more than likely, burn my hand as I take it out.
Hours of cool winter air and my patience will make the pie cold and edible.
I cut the smallest sliver just to make sure it is palatable. The rest I serve.
At the end, all I have is empty mixing bowls needing to be washed,
apple peels gone brown, left out in the air, scattered in a mess of flour and sugar,
while an ever so slight taste of burnt apples and caramel still hints on my lips.
02/03/2004 Author's Note: revision.
Posted on 02/04/2004
Copyright © 2024 Angela Thomas
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