Where are all the Apples?

After that hearty dinner, we were both craving some dessert.  An apple dessert–a tart or strudel-like confection in celebration of the season.  I did not feel like making this confection, having already done dishes twice today.

I guess I shouldn’t be surprised that when I go to the grocery store in late October, I’m not going to find a simple apple pastry-type dessert item in a season CHOCK FULL of apples.  I mean, everywhere you look there are trees full of apples–even here in town.

But you wouldn’t know that from the grocery store.  Blueberry turnovers, cherry strudel–some pumpkin bread and doughnut holes for Halloween, but not a single apple pastry to be found, except in the freezer section–a fifteen dollar apple pie from Vermont.

Not to be outwitted by an apple-less market, I remembered I had one solitary un-canned, unfrozen, undried apple in my fridge.  I wandered into the freezer aisle and found some mini pre-baked filo pastry shells.  A-Ha!

Fifteen minutes later, dessert was on the table–er, desk.  I had to take an image of Harry’s because I ate mine while he was on the phone.

I used the apple (chopped), plus some raisins and the usual cinnamon/nutmeg combo, cooked until soft (about five minutes) with a bit of Vermont maple syrup (which got here on a plane with me rather than in a refrigerator truck like the pie in the store).

I scooped the hot mixture into the shells and dolloped a little vanilla ice cream on top.

It totally hit the spot.

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5 responses

  1. Almost cut all of ’em off for a halloween costume but hid ’em under a skull cap instead . . . my latest dessert venture is not quite up to my standard, but i’ll keep trying it…a homemade cheese danish…i’m hoping to make it for my mom when i’m home since cheese danishes are one of her favorite things. 😀

  2. Save me a little piece, too!

    If neither of us are partnered when we’re old, let’s shack up and make each other fat with our cooking. I’ll make dinner if you make dessert!

  3. hell, even if I AM partnered when I’m old, I’ll keep you and your geezer in the guest bedroom and then you can spend your days putzing and cooking and beating crotchety old men over the head with a garden spade who dare to touch your turnips without your permission.

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