Prelude I
One of my favorite things to do as a kid was snitch sweet stuff ("Duh!" says Rob's dentist this week while replacing the second 20-year-old filling in 12 months). Sure,I know, we all liked to snitch sweet stuff, but I tried everything. Sugar (bland). Packed brown sugar (I was at least part of the reason the brown sugar was always rock hard). Honey. Molasses. Powered sugar (be wary or... cough, gag, choke, as you breath in the fine powder). Powered Quick (a little gritty - see powered sugar).
Prelude II
We've gone apple picking each year for the last five. Last year, we came back with a whole bunch - and I told Melinda we were going to make an apple pie. I got some good video of Melinda snitching apples, sugar, dough, and flour (takes after her old man). I conveniently stopped recording when I needed to yell: "Keep your dirty fingers out of the flour bag!" After 45 minutes of peeling apples, and 20 minutes of rolling crust (whoops, forgot to buy one at the store) - all the while keeping watch on the apples - keeping Melinda's hands out, my patience was frayed. We baked the thing for an hour and neither Melinda nor Gretchen liked it (Tracey either - doesn't like baked apples, or "fruit and bread" products).
Incidentally, did you know that in the Midwest, people eat apple pie not, a la mode, but rather a la cheese? I'm not making this up. American cheese. Weird.
Actual story
Today, Melinda went apple picking with her preschool class. We got some weird apple blight this spring and nothing in NE Illinois yielded any fruit. They went to an orchard and "picked" Michigan apples from crates. Melinda, remembered the fun from last year (but clearly not the yelling) wanted to make apple pie. A year wiser, I steered her to a similar but easier product. Apples, cake mix, sugar, cinnamon, butter. Bake. Yum. After I gave Melinda scoop of ice cream on top she went and told Mom, "I'm having 'a la mode.'"
Truly a year wiser. I don't think I yelled at all. I also didn't mind the snitching as much.
The thing that caused me to write the stories above was the cake mix. We only needed half a package - plenty left over. I took a spoonful of cake mix and tried it - great sweet stuff - I was seven again. I gave one each to the girls... Novices - they wound up snorting it through their noses and coughing like it was powered sugar. I laughed.
One of my favorite things to do as a kid was snitch sweet stuff ("Duh!" says Rob's dentist this week while replacing the second 20-year-old filling in 12 months). Sure,I know, we all liked to snitch sweet stuff, but I tried everything. Sugar (bland). Packed brown sugar (I was at least part of the reason the brown sugar was always rock hard). Honey. Molasses. Powered sugar (be wary or... cough, gag, choke, as you breath in the fine powder). Powered Quick (a little gritty - see powered sugar).
Prelude II
We've gone apple picking each year for the last five. Last year, we came back with a whole bunch - and I told Melinda we were going to make an apple pie. I got some good video of Melinda snitching apples, sugar, dough, and flour (takes after her old man). I conveniently stopped recording when I needed to yell: "Keep your dirty fingers out of the flour bag!" After 45 minutes of peeling apples, and 20 minutes of rolling crust (whoops, forgot to buy one at the store) - all the while keeping watch on the apples - keeping Melinda's hands out, my patience was frayed. We baked the thing for an hour and neither Melinda nor Gretchen liked it (Tracey either - doesn't like baked apples, or "fruit and bread" products).
Incidentally, did you know that in the Midwest, people eat apple pie not, a la mode, but rather a la cheese? I'm not making this up. American cheese. Weird.
Actual story
Today, Melinda went apple picking with her preschool class. We got some weird apple blight this spring and nothing in NE Illinois yielded any fruit. They went to an orchard and "picked" Michigan apples from crates. Melinda, remembered the fun from last year (but clearly not the yelling) wanted to make apple pie. A year wiser, I steered her to a similar but easier product. Apples, cake mix, sugar, cinnamon, butter. Bake. Yum. After I gave Melinda scoop of ice cream on top she went and told Mom, "I'm having 'a la mode.'"
Truly a year wiser. I don't think I yelled at all. I also didn't mind the snitching as much.
The thing that caused me to write the stories above was the cake mix. We only needed half a package - plenty left over. I took a spoonful of cake mix and tried it - great sweet stuff - I was seven again. I gave one each to the girls... Novices - they wound up snorting it through their noses and coughing like it was powered sugar. I laughed.
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