The NewBec

I'm not who I was.

An Apple Pie Without Cheese

“An apple pie without cheese is like a kiss without a squeeze.”

If an apple pie is somehow the topic of conversation, you can rest assured that this phrase will come out of my mother’s mouth. Although, I admittedly can’t exactly remember eating an apple pie with cheese. (I’m curious what kind of cheese would make the best pairing with apple pie. Surely someone somewhere has experience with this, seeing as it is a coined phrase and all.)

Alas, this kiss was squeezeless. Or the apple pie was cheeseless.  We did have ice cream and whipped cream, so the dairy factor was still there, if that counts for anything. Behold, the skillet of delicousness:IMG_2034wmWe’re going to work backwards today, because I think that the end result of this skillet apple pie is too pretty to put at the end.

J was a significant kitchen participant this go-round.  I’d like to say that I’m one of those moms who includes my kids in the kitchen on a regular basis. I hope to be able to say that one day… partially in order to spend more interactive, hands on time with the kids, and, uh, also hopefully to work myself out of kitchen duty.  Unfortunately “regular basis” and “kitchen” aren’t often in the same sentence of my vernacular. Double unfortunately I just don’t always have the presence of mind to deal with myself and ingredients and hot things, let alone two little people. Then there’s the clean up of myself, ingredients, hot things, and two little people. But I’m working on it.

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brushing the top crust with egg whites


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whipping the cream.  After he licked the beaters he declared, “It needs salt.”  And after so much sugar, I’m almost inclined to agree… I need something to cut the sweetness!


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That’s a whole stick of butter in there with the brown sugar…


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Cheeks stirred the sugar and cinnamon in with the apples.


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Peeling and slicing.


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We don’t know what kind of apples these are, but they really were a great pie apple with a good balance of tartness and sweetness.

This whole apple-picking turned pie-baking came about relatively last-minute.  I had seen pictures of a friend with her kids by an apple tree, which reminded me of the one thing that I miss about my Michigan childhood: the apple orchards.  Just like everyone goes to pumpkin patches in the fall down south, everyone goes to apple orchards up north.  It was the annual field trip.  We’d watch them pick the apples, see how the cider was made, and get free samples.  Apple orchards aren’t too prevalent down here, so I contacted my friend to see where they had found one.  I wouldn’t exactly call it an orchard in the typical sense, but there is a family that has a lot of acreage with various and sundry u-pick options.  Apples dropped early this year, so the few places that do have apple trees are already closed for the season, including this one.  But the man said that there was one tree left with a few apples on it, and if we didn’t want too many apples, he would open up just for us. How nice is that?

We loaded up with Giz and Poppa, and headed out to the farm.  We sampled an apple straight off the tree, as well as some sparse blueberries and grapes.  We were shown where the pecan tree was, and also this chestnut tree. I was amused by this as J had just recited a poem for school on Periscope that very morning, which began, “Under a spreading chestnut tree…” 

J was really excited about being able to actually see a chestnut tree and take home some souvenir chestnuts after she had recited “The Village Blacksmith”, by Henry Wadsworth Longfellow.  She’s a person that really appreciates the little things, and I adore that about her.


Helping Papa drive was definitely C’s favorite part. Riding was probably mine. The view was gorgeous.

Rosebud (the labradoodle), and the owner drove ahead in a Gator while Papa and the rest of us followed behind in a golf cart.  Yes, that’s a turkey feather in the boy’s hair.  We tried to spy some turkeys, but we never did see any despite the fact that we heard them.

Cheeks requested that I take a video.

Here is how the whole turkey feather came about.  We found it under the apple tree just like this, with a little friend.

The apple picker deposited the apples into J’s basket, while Cheeks hunted those that had been knocked down and dropped.

Apple catcher, apple fetcher.

It may not have been exactly the same as my Michigan orchard days, but it was a great little unexpected time with the family.  Everyone enjoyed themselves, and the day was just beautiful for a little romp on the rolling hills.

Our traditional pumpkin patch trip is yet to come I’m sure, but although the kids love it, I dread it.  We all get sick EVERY time afterward due to the extreme bombardment of allergens.  We shall be brave… and hopefully make more pie.

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2 comments on “An Apple Pie Without Cheese

  1. Angela
    September 23, 2015

    My grandfather would eat his apple pie with a slice of american cheese. Every time I make apple pie I think that maybe I should try this but I never do.But thank you for your post it made me think of a very special man in my life. πŸ™‚

    • thenewbec
      September 23, 2015

      Sweet. American cheese isn’t at all what I would have thought of pairing with it. Ha. But clearly I am inexperienced with the cheese-and-pie.

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This entry was posted on September 17, 2015 by in Uncategorized and tagged , , , , , , , , .
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