Not the dead animal eating, but Tahoe.
You know. You were there.
And now there's today when I have some pictures to remind me that yes, I stayed up late last night canning apple pie filling even though I hardly need photos to tell me that I'm exhausted and there's a weird sticky spot in my hair that lingers on even though I keep brushing at it and swearing.
Let me back the truck up a bit...
See, my neighbors are really nice people, y'all. These are the ones who brought such joys into my life as the tomato tunnel, group mulch hauling and The Apple Machine. Obviously they are people to be hugged regularly and given lavish gifts of microbrews from the beer fridge and good wine in The Big Glasses.
Well, to continue down their path to neighborly sainthood, they also delivered unto us (that's how people say it, right?) a big ass box of apples from their tree. Which, YAY!, right?
|This isn't the monster box. This is only what was left after canning the damn pie filling. Yes, "damn" and "sainthood" can be mentioned in the same post. As can "fuck" and "shit". This is a big caption.|
Normally, yes, it would be YAY! I'm going to can apple pie filling this weekend to give as gifts at the holidays because I'm not sewing shit this year! YAY! except that I'm going to be out of town again this weekend and oh I don't really need a monster box of apples going rapidly bad and fruit fly-y in my kitchen.
No, I don't need that in my life.
So, because I'm delusional and don't have proper understanding of the limits of time and space, I decided that oh well I guess that means I'm going to can this apple pie filling during the week after work and dog walking and dinner making and dinner eating and cocktail hour and wait, I think I just ran out of hours.
But I thought that if I sliced apples one night (with the help of The Apple Machine who I love) while watching the Giants summarily quash the hopes and dreams of all Atlanta fans (stopped your damn chopping, didn't we? Oh yes.) and then went to the hardware store for jars another night and then did the actual canning yet another night - well, I could successfully turn these apples into canned pie filling before they turned to garbage can filling in my kitchen.
Um, kaaaaaaaaaaaaaaay. Sounds iffy, but I'll try it.
|Go Apple Machine.|
Which awoke Bubba from the couch and touched off a brief conversation about my abusive relationship with inanimate objects.
Anyway, whatever, because I made it through 2/3 of the monster box of apples, canned 6 quarts of apple pie filling and cleaned up the kitchen before I took my sticky ass to bed.
ROMANCE. Yes, it is alive in our home.
Oh, but I didn't tell you that when I had gathered all my ingredients, materials, recipe and tools from the four corners of my universe (one corner being Orchard Supply Hardware because my life is very glam), I re-read the recipe for the one hundredth time and noticed that OH the fucking thing says that it takes TWO quarts of this legendary pie filling to make ONE 9 inch pie. Which isn't all that handy of a gift to give someone.
"Happy whatever holiday you celebrate! Please to enjoy these TWO ungainly and heavy jars of pie filling which I made all by meself and which you can use to make ONE measly pie! Bye now! Don't leave doody on my front doorstep!"
Yeah, it's no kind of gift.
But, what was I to do?
I didn't absorb this fine detail until after I'd gone to OSH for my dozen QUART jars even though when I went to pick up the flat of quarts I accidentally, at first, grabbed the flat of HALF GALLON jars (you know that two quarts makes a half gallon, right, because it does.) and then, after being all WHOOPSY! Better get the quarts, dummy, came home and ripped the plastic free of the quart-sized jar flat so that I could caress the pretty new unscratched jars while I memorized the recipe and OH WAIT this isn't what I had in mind at all.
*Sigh* It was a dramatic moment in my world of canning shit.
Well, what I did was call an audible at the line. Which, if you're any kind of sports fan or absent-minded cook, means that you assessed the new issue at hand and changed your plan to suit your current situation.
Let me say that if I were a dude and physically inclined in the football-type way, I'd make a fine quarterback. Or, at least a decent offensive line coach because I can call an audible like a fucking pro. Watch out, Solari, I'm gunning for your job!
Not really. I wouldn't want to take on that mess.
For my big call though...
I decided that this apple pie filling would be RUSTIC apple pie filling which OH YES requires only the one quart of filling and YAY AGAIN but this time for the recipient, only requires the one pie crust. So, no rolling out two circles of pie crust for a covered pie because in RusticLand you just roll out the one crust, pour in your filling, fold up the edges, bake it in the oven for a while and go out to the back 40 to chop wood or whatever it is that Rustic people do in RusticLand while they're waiting on their Rustic It Only Takes One Quart Apple Pie to finish baking.
Did you get all that?
|I'm about to Rustic UP this place.|
Basically, I made 6 quarts of apple pie filling from one monster box of apples given unto us (see! again! Has it stopped being funny? Really, you can say.) by our neighbors and will give BACK to them and some other fine people at the holidays with a tag recipe for Rustic Apple Pie using the one quart of filling.
Neato burrito patio mosquito. (If you know this reference in its bastardized form then, whoa.)
Because of the weirdness and convolution of this whole thing though, I will now only be giving away 5 quarts of this pie filling because I feel compelled to test try it out on our household before inflicting my apple drama gift on others. So, keep an eye peeled for a post entitled, "Rustic Garbage Can Filling" or something similar.
Aren't we glad I had something to talk about today?
Yeah. I know.