American as Apple Pie

Suddenly this week, the temperature has dropped drastically and the wind has blown in with it. October is surely upon us (and perhaps December, too). With the autumn harvest come merry dreams of sunny days in pumpkin patches and the deliciously haunting scent of cinnamon in the air. These days, fall is more often defined by the availability of the PSL than the changing colors of the trees. Marketing ploys and tactics are trying their best to turn autumn into a commercial sensation much the same as Christmas. Pumpkin beers are tapped sooner and sooner and how dare you resist a pumpkin scone that is shoved your way, hot and steaming. These efforts are certainly delicious and I am glad pumpkin is being revived beyond its jack-o-lantern possibilities into the culinary workhorse fruit (yes, fruit) that it is.


Nostalgia, however, fights this tendency, and the Fall of most Americans' dreams would be incomplete without the quintessential Apple Pie. Apple doesn't require the effort and publicity that pumpkin does because everyone knows it is already sweet and delicious without any effort. Put effort in, and the apple becomes sublime. One can go to a pumpkin patch and leave with pounds of pumpkin, but one can't pick it and eat it right off the stem. That sweet experience belongs to the apple. How many of us make real pumpkin pie with the pumpkins we have picked when Libby's Puree is so much easier? The ease of the apple is much more accessible and worth the (comparatively) minor effort.

Do not mistake me: apples have had their fare share of commercial contamination as well. Just look at the state of the apple in America up until the last several years. A once mighty heirloom some time ago was relegated to a year-round indestructible. We all know the apple of which I speak: Red Delicious, that abomination before the tongues of man. With a hearty skin that resists age and shipping, somehow the most flavorless of apples became the fruit standard in America. It is only recently that heirloom varieties are being rediscovered and appreciated by the mouths of nostalgic Americans. Check out a recent article in the magazine Rodale's Organic Life detailing the rise and fall and rise again of the apple for more details on this history and what farmers are doing about it.

So what do apples and pumpkins and autumn and all these things have to do with being American?  

1.) Well, for starters, I think we have proved that, for better or worse, America is the commercial hub of the world. Americans know how to make a buck; they know how to advertise; they know how to gnaw at the desires of other Americans. Americans know opportunity when they see it, and the change of pumpkin from seasonal decoration to seasonal drink was the smartest move yet.

2.) Americans know how to make money at the expense of healthy agriculture. Monocrops are a disastrous idea, which I thought we had proved 150 years ago with the decay of Southern land thanks to continuous tobacco and cotton production. I guess not. I won't get into a big monocrop discussion here, but suffice it to say, apples are a sad result of this tendency. Perhaps the lack of apple variety didn't wear out the land, but it sure has worn out taste buds, and worn out the complexity and diversity of the fruit. Apples are supposed to continuously cross breed and birth new kinds of apples. When the depths of our pockets get in the way of that, we not only are actually hurting ourselves by missing out on so many more delicious apples, but we are failing at being good stewards to the land.

3.) The American spirit is greater than its pursuit of monetary gain. We learn from our mistakes. We have learned we need apples. We crave apple complexity because we know that Grandma's Apple Pie definitely was made with something more delicious than what we find all year round in the corner market. So we research and we revive and heirloom apples are back in renewed force. We continue to spend money (because we are Americans) and we see to it that these endeavors continue and thrive, because what would autumn truly be without a trip to the apple orchard and that first crunch into a truly local, American fruit?

For an authentic American autumn, head to the nearest orchard or farmers' market near you, pick some heirloom apples, and make this recipe, which is guaranteed to satisfy even your Grandmother.

Pie Dough (for double crust):

• 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour (organic or non-GMO, sprouted if possible)
• 1 1/4 teaspoons salt (kosher or fine/ground sea salt)
• 1 cup (2 sticks) unsalted butter (grass fed preferable), chilled and cubed
• 3/4 cup ice water

Mix flour and salt together in a bowl, then incorporate the butter into the mixture using a pastry cutter. The mixture should look course and have chunks of butter still present. (That's what makes the crust flaky!) Slowly add ice water, stirring until dough begins to clump. You might not need all the ice water.

Fold the dough on a floured surface until the mixture comes together (shaggy but not sticky). Divide the dough into two disks, wrap in plastic and refrigerate for an hour or freeze until use.

Unrefined Apple Pie:

• 7-8 heirloom apples (I used Cortlands): peeled, cored, cut into 1/2 inch wedges
• 1 cup maple syrup, dark or very dark
• 3/4 cup all purpose flour
• 1/2 teaspoon black tea
• 1/4 teaspoon whole cloves
• 1/4 teaspoon ground pepper (or to taste)
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1 teaspoon cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon ground ginger
• dash to 1/2 teaspoon nutmeg (according to taste; I use less)
• 1 1/2 tablespoons butter, cut into small pieces
• 1 large egg yolk
• 1 tablespoon milk

Grind tea, cloves, and pepper together using a mortar and pestle, a muddler, or spice grinder. Sift out the large chunks through a fine sieve, then mix in other spices. In a large bowl, combine apples, spice mixture, flour, and maple syrup. Mix together until apples are well coated.

Roll out pie dough and drape over dish. Add apple mixture. Dot apple mixture with the pieces of butter. Roll out the other pie disk and drape on top of the apple mixture (it will be very high). Pinch seams of the pie crust together.

In a small bowl (perhaps the one you mixed the spices in), whisk together egg yolk and milk. Using a pastry brush, brush the egg wash onto the pie crust. Cut slits into the top crust for ventilation. These can be simply lines or detailed cut-outs.

Bake at 375 degrees for 1 - 1 1/2 hours. Make sure to put it on a lined baking sheet or line the bottom of your oven with foil to catch running juices! Or else you will end up cleaning your oven the next day like I did.

Let the pie sit for an hour to set once it is finished baking. Then slice and enjoy!

**Thanks to A Year of Pies by Ashley English and Morse Farm Maple Sugarworks for recipe inspiration and to Frecon Farms for providing quality heirloom produce to Eastern Pennsylvania!**