The Apple of My Eye
My husband, Farmer Paul (aka Fisherman Paul, Hiker Paul and all variety of other vigorous and productive activities), and I sat on the patio after dinner (The Silver Palate Cookbook, page 187 - Red Snapper with Butter and Shallot Sauce), sipped a little white wine and admired our garden. A plopping sound cut through the quiet. "Apple down," he said, jumping up to snatch a beautifully ripe and pretty big Macintosh from the grass under the laden branches of our supposedly (another story for another day) dwarf variety of self pollinating apple tree. "Let's go in and bake a pie." I haven't made an actual pie in a long time. My youngest son hasn't lived home since college and a whole pie is just too big for three of us to eat before the crust goes soggy. What you see in the picture here is a piece of last night's Apple Blueberry Galette with a side dollop of homemade creme fraiche. Galettes are my specialty. Sounds fancy, doesn't it? So around here...