Saturday, September 13, 2003

cool emails and apple pie

A friend emailed the following haiku, which I post without his permission:

BigHo adores shit
Manure benefits farmers
Soil fertility

Gave me a cackle.

Another friend, a buddy down in Florida about to weather a nasty hurricane, had this insight about pet cats:

About every thousand or so cats you meet, you'll find an exceptional one. Louis was never forced to smoke pot, but when he wanted some, he'd pick a lap, and inhale as we exhaled. When he was happily stoned, he'd fall backward so his head was hanging upside down off your knees and he'd just look around the room upside down.

Louis came from our local retired HarborMaster's breeding experiment. He was gradually building a bigger cat. They seemed to peak out at around 30 pounds, the very biggest ones. Louis was a runt, hence, given away, and he stopped at around 17 pounds. VERY solid cat. When the neighbor's cat-killing doberman finally came to call, Louis was above him on a tree branch, peeking over the side like a bombardier. He finally dropped onto the dobies' back, dug in all claws and teeth. He looked like a bullrider while he wore that poor dog down. It never stepped foot in Louis' yard after that one fight.

In other news...

It's Saturday, a bit after lunch, and I find myself wanting to do something about all these damn apples I have. So I'm going to try making a "camp"-style apple pie.

I'm searching Google for apple pie recipes, and the ones I see for campers are lame. By far the lamest has to be the "apple pie on a stick":


1 Jonathan or Rome apple for each person
1 cup granulated sugar
1 tablespoon cinnamon

Push a stick or dowel through the apple top until the apple is secure on the stick. Place the apple 2 or 3 inches above the hot coals and turn the apple while roasting it. As the apple cooks, the skin browns and the juice drips out. When the skin is loose, remove the apple from the fire (but leave it on the stick). Peel the hot skin off very carefully.

Combine sugar and cinnamon. Roll the apple in the sugar-cinnamon mixture, then return it to roast over the coals, letting the mixture heat to form a glaze around the apple. Remove from coals and let it cool.

If I ever receive word that you've concocted this abomination and dare to call it apple pie, I'll have little choice but to shoot your lame ass. The old-style deep-fried McDonald's apple pie, itself a freakish mutant, is closer to real apple pie than this disgusting stick recipe.

The rundown of "camp"-style recipes from Google doesn't seem all that impressive, so I've switched to looking for good ole in-house apple pie recipes, which I hope to adapt to the skillet. And I think I've found one: The All-American Apple Pie recipe by... Amy.

Amy seems not to have a last name, so in my mind she has become The Iconic Amy, the Platonic Ideal of Amyness, from which all imperfectly instantiated Amys arise in this material world. Ten thousand prostrations to you, Amy With No Last Name, Queen of Awful Mystery. Live long and produce many healthy larvae! May your tentacles never lose their leathery toughness, nor your poisoned fangs their cruel sharpness! The hive is all that matters! The hive is one!

OK, sorry about that Lovecraftian interlude...

I'm going to try this recipe out this afternoon, see if I can adapt it to my meager living conditions, and produce something that can sit alongside a cowpatty-sized glop of vanilla ice cream without suffering undue shame.

My most likely strategy will be to partially cook the crust (while making the filling separately), then craft mini-pies that look a bit like burritos (or calzones), which I'll then slow-cook (to the extent that's possible on a skillet... will have to stick with a thin crust) to Hominidal perfection.

Will this project end in disaster?

Only The All-Powerful Amy knows. Stay tuned.

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