Every Christmas, we bake eight pies, four apple and four pecan. Of course, we didn’t eat them all ourselves. Grandma gave two away to people who had no pies, and put two in the freezer for some future emergency. Pies and money were similar in Grandma’s mind: Save a quarter of everything in deep reserves for some deep future need.
When she baked those pies, she had her unforgettable ritual.
First, she prepared the dessert table in the dining room. She covered the corner table with a crocheted tablecloth made by her mother and lit red cinnamon-scented candles. Every year she told us, “See that tablecloth? It took your great-grandmother a year to crochet it. She made the whole thing while watching Gunsmoke.”
Then she played Christmas music on the old record player. Usually Bing Crosby, Perry Como, or Doris Day. Then she closed off the kitchen and announced to us children who were there:
“Now I’m going to bake. You’re either helping or you’re in the way. If you want to help, then help. If not, go outside.”
I usually stayed because there were rewards. I served as quality control. At nine years old, I discovered that simply sitting in a warm kitchen surrounded by the aromas of baking pies had no olfactory equal in childhood.
My grandmother always cooked while dressed rather elegantly. She wore a collared, mid-calf dress with a blue-and-white checked apron over it. To me, she looked like the wrapper on a loaf of Butter Krust bread. On her feet, though, she wore comfortable beige Keds (a footwear brand).
Since I loved her apple pie, I’ll quickly tell you how she made it. You should feel honored, because this is a rare family recipe that goes all the way back to my great-grandmother. She lovingly clipped it from the pages of Good Housekeeping magazine in 1912.
First, put some wassail (Christmas punch) on the stove to simmer so the room has the proper Christmas aroma for baking pies. Cover half the table with wax paper, get out the flour and rolling pin, and make the pie dough. Do it vigorously so the flour flies through the air. Line the pie pans with the dough, trim off the excess, crimp the edges, and put them all in the oven for 15 minutes at 350 degrees.
Peel and core five apples. Slice them. Shout at Grandpa to turn the record over so you can hear Bing Crosby dream of a white Christmas—which is certainly a crazy dream anywhere south of Austin. You’re more likely to get a Christmas tan there.
In a large stainless-steel bowl, mix the sliced apples with white and brown sugar, cinnamon, and nutmeg. Nutmeg is the secret ingredient. It smells magical when it mingles with the warm wassail on the stove. Now pour the filling into the pie crusts and add a crumb topping with plenty of butter, sugar, and cinnamon. Your Dutch apple pies are almost ready.
All that remains is to bake them. When they’re done, set them by the window to cool.
Now you can start on the pecan pies, but that isn’t my specialty, so you’ll have to find that recipe yourself. I’m just waiting for the apple pies. As soon as they’ve cooled, I’ll have a slice, with Blue Bell Homemade Vanilla ice cream, of course. Life can’t get any better than that, I’d say.
May your holidays be just as blessed.
Here is my grandmother’s recipe, exactly as she wrote it:
Apple Pie
Put the pie crust in the oven and bake at 350 degrees for 15 minutes.
Remove from the oven and wait until it is cool to the touch.
6 apples—peel and slice.
2 heaping tablespoons flour.
1/2 cup sugar.
1 teaspoon ground nutmeg.
Mix together, stir into the sliced apples, and pour evenly into the crust.
Topping
1 stick butter at room temperature.
1/2 cup dark brown sugar.
Mix the sugar with the butter.
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon.
Cut 1 cup flour into the butter and sugar to make crumbs.
Spread over the filling.
Bake at 400 degrees for 10 minutes, then reduce the temperature to 350 and bake for 40–50 minutes.
Results may vary.
