Dryin' Apples & Fried Apple Pies

Back in the my Grandmother's day, food didn't come from a grocery store. You grew your own, or grew/made something that could be used for barter with those who did grow their own. These days we just drive to the store, and go shopping. Most of the time though, the flavor of store bought fruits and vegetables isn't the same as those that were home grown. So, for that reason (and the organic craze), today we're seeing a revival of growing your own food. Back in the day, though, it wasn't an option... you grew your own or you didn't eat. And once it was grown you needed to preserve it some way. Today's options are freezing, canning, or dehydrating (drying). In the years before electricity, freezing wasn't an option.  Today we can things, freeze things, and dehydrate things… depending on which is best for what we want to use the produce for in the coming days and months.

We've always had fruit trees growing around us.  When I was a kid, Dad planted all sorts… cherry, damson, plum, and apple…….. All sorts of apple trees.  Apples are ready for the pickin' from early summer through Fall… and we seem to have some of every type here on our small farm.  The early apples are the best for applesauce.  The summer apples are good for chunking up and freezing for stewed apples later this winter.  Fall apples are good for pies, so those are chunked and frozen for those.  But there's only just so much that you can use over one wintertime (or sometimes two, depending on the bounty of the crop that year)… so what do you do with the rest?  Well, you dry them, of course. 

Back when Mom was a kid, that meant peeling, coring, and slicing by hand.  Then a sheet was spread out on the roof of the well (yes, the kind you draw water up with a bucket).  The slices of apple were spread out in the sun to dry.  If it rained, that meant running outside and gathering up sheet, apples and all, really quick.  After the rain, or perhaps the next day, the sheet was spread out again and the apples laid out to finish drying.  On a hot summer day, it wouldn't take long… just a day or two.  They were then gathered up and finished off in the oven to kill any bugs that might have gotten on them.  Sometimes she would spread a sheet out in the attic and dry them there.  I can still remember how it smelled upstairs when she had a lot of them drying.  The scent of apples everywhere.  Once they were dry to the point of still pliable but almost crispy, she'd put them an old cloth sugar or flour sack (back in those days things like sugar, flour and feed for the animals came in clothe sacks, not paper or plastic… those were saved and repurposed, but that's a story for another day).  As time went by, she moved to those square thick plastic freezer cartons and stored them in the freezer.  But the method of drying stayed the same for many years.  It wasn't until a couple of decades ago that that changed.

Today we use a dehydrator, and we even have a device that will strip the apple off the core in one continuous spiral slice (well that's the theory anyway… it seldom "works as intended" because apples aren't all the same size and symmetrically shaped, etc.).  Sometimes, though, we still sit and peel them by hand, slice chunks off the core, then slice them in thin slices.  Depends on how many apples we need to do at one time, as to which method is used.  Once they are sliced, we lay them on the trays that fit into the dehydrator… as many as will fit on a tray without laying one on top of the other.  24 hours later, they are dry but still pliable.  Those are gathered up into freezer bags and put into the freezer for later use.  You can put them all down into one big plastic bag, or portion them into smaller ones…. either way is fine.

Then, come winter…. It's time for some Fried Apple Pies.  Now for the novice that has never tried these handfuls of heavenly delight, these look very similar to those fruit pies that you can buy for a buck at the Dollar Store or the corner Quick Mart.  The difference is the taste…. I mean, com'on… doesn't homemade almost always taste better than store bought anything?! 

Start by getting out some of those dried apples out of the freezer.  Drop them into a sauce pan (about a double handful) along with about twice as much water.  Into that had the goodness…. sugar, cinnamon, maybe a touch of nutmeg… all the spices you'd think of when making an apple pie.  Simmer all those together until they make a thick goo.  You want the spices to be heavier than an apple pie because all you'll use is a heaping tablespoon per pie.  Now here's where most folks nowadays cheat a little…  Back in the day, you had to make dough, as if you were making a cross between pie crust and biscuits, while the apples were cooking down.  Nowadays, most folks just use canned biscuits.  Honestly, the taste isn't that different, and it saves a lot of time.  Each "biscuit" amount of dough is rolled out flat, and should be roughly the size of a saucer or dessert plate.  Have a small dish of water handy.  Place a heaping tablespoon of the apple goo into the center.  Fold the dough in half, and use the water to wet the edge to seal.  A fork dipped in flour and pressed around the edge finishes the seal.  Pop those in a frying pan that's coated in veg or canola oil and fry to brown on both sides.  Once browned, remove from pan, and finish any way you choose.  Some people leave them as they are, some sprinkle them with confectioner's sugar, and others take them straight from the pan and roll them in a sugar/cinnamon mixture.  Whichever way you choose, it's time for a delicious dessert or snack once they cool a bit. 

These are so popular in our house, that my brother has asked for a huge pile of them as his birthday "cake" on more than one occasion.  They are a quick on-the-go sort of snack as well, so the men folk always liked seeing a pile of these on the stove or counter so they could grab one or two and get back outside to finish whatever work needed doing. 

Other fruit was used for the inside of those fried pies from time to time…. peaches especially…. but the dried apples were most often used.  Apples were always plentiful, and while some apples were better for applesauce than others, drying was an equalizer. 

From InASouthernKitchen.com

Fried Apple Pies were always one of those smells that we knew as soon as we came in the house.  They were always one of those snacks that you just had to have one of right now!  All I have to do is think about one and the flood of childhood memories associated with these handfuls of heavenly delight fill my mind's eye.  They say that scent is one of the best memory hooks… remember a scent, and the memory follows.  I'm pretty sure that taste is another.

For a start on the recipe, you can go here:  https://inasouthernkitchen.com/grannys-fried-apple-pies/ .....  but Southern cooks always start with a recipe, then make it their own.  Don't forget to season heavily with LOVE!!!

If you've never tried a Fried Apple Pie, you should…… and not the ones you get from the Dollar Store.  

From a Long Line of Busy-Bodies & Tongue-Waggers

The first phone i can remember my family having when i was a kid was the old desk type black rotary phone.  I can still remember what it sounded like when the phone number was being dialed.  Stick your finger in the hole by the number, drag the wheel around to the “stop" arm on the dial and let go. The ticka-ticka as it circled back to its starting point was all too slow sometimes. Then it was time to do the next number in the phone number.  Mind-numbingly slow compared to today's staccato-click, or one-button-press way of calling someone... but just like any new technology we have today, back then that was state-of-the-art, whiz-bang, new-fangled high-tech!!  (And it beat the heck out of having to yell across the field to get a message from house to house, haha!)

The phone number itself was different back then, too. There were no area codes, nor did the phone numbers start with numbers at all. Phone numbers were assigned by the phone exchange you were on.  Ours was Franklin, followed by 5 numbers. You didn't dial the entire word, just an abbreviation using the letters beside each number on the dial, but the entire word was spoken when sharing your number with someone. If memory serves, the abbreviations were only 2 letters... so Franklin became FR. Everyone in our area was in the same exchange, and had the "FR" for the first part of their number. 

When Mom & Dad & I first moved into the house i grew up in, we didn’t even have a telephone. Not many people did.  Mom and Dad went to Grandmother's, next door, if they needed to make a call. Phone calls were rare… not the common place way of communication they are today.  Long-distance cost a small fortune, and was just not done unless it was critical somehow.  Several years later, Mom and Dad got a phone…. and were assigned to a “party line” with three of our close neighbors. 

If you've never experienced a party line, it's a very different way of telephone communication.  Some of the old sitcoms demonstrate them from time to time.  In our case, 4 houses were given one telephone line.  All the houses’ phones rang when a call came in.  However, each house had 4 digits that were theirs personally, but you had to listen to how many times the phone rang to know if an incoming call was for your house.  If it was a call for our house, it rang twice.  If it was for Grandmother, next door, it rang once.  If it was for Aunt Molly (down the road from us), it rang three times, etc.  So you had to listen for how many times it rang in succession before the pause between rings to know if it needed to be answered by you.   If you wanted to make a call, the first thing you had to do was to listen.  If someone else in your party was using the phone, both ends of the conversation could be heard just by picking up the receiver.  There was “Phone Etiquette” in those days, so if, by chance, you needed to make an emergency call, you simply broke in to the conversation politely, and asked to use the phone.  This was inevitably followed by questions from those talking such as, “Oh my goodness!  What happened?”  A quick explanation would follow and the line was cleared for use.  It was a given that gossip flowed freely via the party line, and an emergency of any kind was sure to fill the conversations of the busy bodies in the neighborhood for days.  It was the “modern” (in those days) version of talking at the fence between neighbors.  Gossip was what they excelled in and emergencies were juicy tidbits, destined to be talked about, along with inquiries for anything those with the emergency might need (help, food, etc) in the coming days. 

And it’s the gossipers that I really want to talk about for a minute... You see, I come from a long, long, long line of gossipers, busy-bodies, and tongue-waggers.  There were also a number of story-wranglers, tale-twisters, and lolly-gaggers, but that’s a tale for another day.

Today, saying that someone is a gossiper is an insult, but those women, back in those days, were the backbone of the community.  People were more polite and proper back in those days, so it wasn’t hate-filled gossip… it was more a verbal news service.  These were the ladies that always baked a chicken pie when someone had a death in the family.  They were the ones that made the best lemon meringue pies for the church socials.  Their husbands were the ones that would help out a neighbor in need, just for the asking… and sometimes even without being asked at all.  The ladies were the ones that always made crafts and jams and jellies to be sold at the Fall Festival each year.  They were the leaders in the church groups, the teachers in Sunday School, Grade Mothers and Grandmothers at the schools, and active in every woman’s group in the area.  They knew what everyone in the community was up to, and met the needs as much as was possible.  So to say that they gossiped on the phone for a good part of each day, was to say that they spent that time checking on everyone, making sure plans were made, news was shared, and needs were met.  They were always quick to “Bless your heart”, and listen if you needed an ear.  And they were always just as glad to listen in person, but these “new fangled telephones” made it easier to do that from the comfort of their own home, increasing what they could do without the burden of traveling, or the waiting until the next meeting or the next Sunday at church to plan it out.  

God bless those busy bodies… they were the caretakers of every neighborhood.  We need more of those kinds of busy-bodies and gossipers in today’s world, and less of the mean-spirited self-serving attitudes that seem to have dominated the world for decades now.  We’ve stopped caring so much about community and the people around us!

Years passed quickly, and phone services advanced with the technology.  Today everyone has a phone, and we communicate at speeds that would have amazed those dear busy-bodies back in those days.  Having had a career in technology, I’m always ready to embrace the “new and better”… but I find myself wondering sometimes what have we lost as a result of “instant everything”.  We’ve lost a great deal of the cohesiveness of community, for one thing.  IF blame needs placing, technology isn’t to “blame”…  people are.  We got so caught up in the work-buy-work-buy cycle associated with getting more “stuff”, better “stuff”, faster “stuff”, and cooler “stuff”, that we forgot just why it was that communities worked so well the way they were.  Perhaps, one day, we’ll figure out that we need each other more than we need more “stuff”.  Until that day….......  

Hang on a sec…….  Just remembered I need to call Mom and tell her something….

Then he said to them, “Watch out! Be on your guard against all kinds of greed; life does not consist in an abundance of possessions.”  Luke 12:15 NIV

Don't Forget to Put the Flag Up!!!

Out here in the country every house has a mailbox. No... Not one of those tiny boxes on the wall by the door... Not one of those metal boxes in the post office with hundreds of others. A real mailbox, usually with a separate compartment for the daily newspaper, sits at the end of every driveway. Here's the thing though. Those mailboxes sometimes become a status symbol of sorts, or a decorative feature at the head of the driveway. They get decorated for the holidays, especially Christmas, and sometimes even "bloom" in the warmer months. The mailbox is your first indication of the type of folks that live in that house.

A sprawling brick house with lavish landscaping might decide to brick in their mailbox, making it look like a mini Fort Knox. A farmer might have a mailbox in the shape of a John Deere tractor, complete with the green and yellow colors that are so famous with the brand. A fisherman might have one shaped like a huge large mouth bass (the door is literally inside the fish's mouth). And a young couple, just starting life together, might have the cheapest one Lowe's sells, on a skinny metal pole, very non-descript, lacking the personality sure to show up in the coming years. There are no Homeowners Associations out here, demanding all mailboxes look the same. The mailbox becomes a symbol of those who live there.

You can tell a lot about the lives of the folks around here by their mailboxes, too. Do they have one of those plastic bulky looking ones? Chances are, they have lost a few mailboxes in their life to drive-by hooligans with a baseball bat (illegal, by the way), or a farm implement on a tractor that stuck out too far to the side, or a roadscraper in the winter time. Those things are made to break apart when they get hit to limit the destruction. Is it mounted on a thick metal pole or a 4x4, or a store-bought pole of some sort? Is it plain or decorative? Does it have a mini flower garden planted around it? All these things mean something to the folks who live there.

Photo by Pat Bailey

And then there are those folks that look at their mailbox as their own special spot to place a sculpture representing their own brand of uniqueness. Some go the humor route while others seemingly use random parts found around the old farm. Lots seem to love wagon wheels and bicycle wheels. Others create sculptures of horses or dragons or even knights in armor which stand at attention at driveway's end in an eternal watch. 

<<<<<--  And then there's this guy, with the pot-bellied stove for a mailbox.  

And always..... ALWAYS...... there is the inevitable cluster of mailboxes here and there, usually at the end of some winding gravel road. One box for each house, often odd sizes and heights, some different colors from the others, and always at different angles.... reminding me somehow of a field of mechanical wildflowers on the side of the road.

Next time you're driving through the rural countryside, take time to notice the mailboxes. You never know what will peek out of the next curve in the road....  Who knows, it may be better than The Worlds Biggest Ball of String....

Way Down Yonder in the Strawberry Patch…

Daffodils in February

Spring sprung early this year.  All the fruit trees and spring flowers are confused.  They should be bloomin' about this time of year, but we had such a warm winter that we had blooms in February.  We lucked out and didn’t have any late hard frosts to speak of though, so everything faired pretty good.  The apple trees didn’t bloom until after the last hard frost.  The blueberries had already started blooming but they are a hardy lot and faired just fine.  The buttercups and daffodils got bit a little but there’s always plenty to take their place in a week or so.  Irises are blooming now.  The tulips have come and gone.  Wild honeysuckle is starting to bloom… and I’m seein’ a few daisies on the side of the road now and then.  

Yep… Spring sprung early this year.  Strawberries came in early this year.  The farmers were picking their first few ripe ones back in March.  That’s the earliest any of them can remember, so they told me.  Today, we went to the Strawberry Fields down the road a piece and got a few flats of them.  Folks can go and pick their own, but my back won’t let me do stuff like that anymore, so we just go and pay a dollar or so more per flat and get the ones they picked earlier this morning.  What’s a flat?  Oh, it’s just a shallow cardboard box, like what soda cans come in sometimes when you get 4 six-packs.  Now comes my favorite part… the eatin’.  There will be Strawberry Shortcake for sure.  Sis may make one of those “Shonney Strawberry Pies”.  For sure, there will be mornings with strawberries involved in breakfast somehow.  Then, if there’s any left, we’ll freeze a few Ziploc bags full for another day. 

Strawberries in the Field

I once heard a fella say that the strawberry was at the top of the food pyramid … don’t know if he meant THE food pyramid or just his, but I tend to agree with him.  There are few things that strawberries won’t go with when it comes to eats and drinks.   IHOP’s strawberry crepes are the next thing short of heaven.  Strawberry… ice cream (the homemade kind, of course)... milkshakes… smoothies… cakes… pies… dipped in chocolate… eaten with cream… or just dipped in sugar.  Let's not forget strawberry preserves (great on a hot buttered biscuit), or some sliced on top of a stack of pancakes.  I can’t think of another fruit that is more versatile or more loved. 

Strawberry Fields Forever

There have been songs written about strawberries and the fields they grow in.  Strawberry Fields Forever, by The Beatles, is the one that keeps rolling through my mind.  The Strawberry Shortcake dolls were popular when I was growing up too.  Strawberries are touted nowadays as being a health food, full of antioxidants and all that sort of stuff.  Maybe they should be the top of the pyramid. 

Yes, you can buy strawberries in the grocery store most any time of the year, it seems… but there’s nothing better than a strawberry that was warmed by the sun just this morning.  Find you a local strawberry patch and go pick you a bucket full.  Take the family; it’s a fun thing for the kids to see how they are grown.  If you can’t do that, at least go to your local Farmer’s Market and get you a few.  You won’t be sorry!

Nothin's better than a strawberry that was warmed in the sun this mornin'.

Two Thousand Thank You's

Over 2000 times, someone has come to my blog to either just look around or (hopefully) read a post or two.  

I find myself both completely astounded and humbled that so many would find my stories not only of interest, but find that they touch something within themselves as they read.  Perhaps it was something that was a reminder of days gone by, of a childhood where we didn't understand just how "real" the world really was.  Perhaps it was something that brought a smile, maybe even a giggle sometimes.  

Your comments and suggestions for future stories, either in person or on Facebook or in messages and emails have inspired me, and encouraged me to continue something that I first thought a fleeting fancy.   

Whatever your reason for stopping by.... whatever your reason for suggestions and/or comments.... I am truly thankful for each of you.  

The Mom of a Sailor

As many know, I'm now a Navy Mom times two.  My oldest son served 9.5 yrs and is now a Navy Vet. with a nice home and job in Tennessee.  My youngest son joined on Jan. 23rd, and is currently in bootcamp in Great Lakes, IL.  His adventure is just beginning.  

This morning, I was inspired to write a poem about how this has been, so far....  Being the second time around as a Navy Mom, I know what to expect.... somewhat.  That doesn't change the sometimes overwhelming feelings.... after all, a Mom is a Mom!  We worry.  We hope.  We pray!

But like so many other times in Life, I know that Life changes.... all you have to do is wait, and it will change.... again and again and again.  

I wish him well on his journey.  He is well-prepared!  

The Mom of a Sailor

by Jackie Garrison (22FEB17)

With tears in my eyes and a heart dripping in pain

I smile as you leave me toward destiny’s reign 

I see in your eyes a steadfastness and steel 

And I knew there was nothing I could say… only feel… 

So I share love and pride at the man you’d become, 

At the courage you found for the path you’d begun. 

And I wave and blow kisses, and hug you once more 

Saying “Love you so much!”, as you walked toward the door. 

In an instant Life changed, you were off on your own. 

So did mine. Now it’s letters and wait by the phone… 

Every day I wonder what’s happening to you, 

Praying daily that God keeps you safe, and sound, too 

So many opposite feelings well up inside 

Sadness, love and fear… yes, and the pride 

The Mom of a Sailor is the bravest of all! 

Strength beyond measure, standing straight ‘n’ tall. 

Few know the depths of just what’s deep within 

As we wait for a call, or a letter from him. 

As we wonder and wait and count off the days, 

We lean on our friends who also walk these ways. 

The Mom of a Sailor is the bravest of all, 

Strength beyond measure! Stand straight ‘n’ tall! 

You’ve got this, Mom! This too shall pass! 

Soon a memory only! Hold strong and hold fast!!

..............:::::::::::::::::::...............

Cross My Heart 'n' Hope To Die.......

Image courtesy of BrainyQuote.com

Ya know, back when I was growing up, nothing was more important than telling the truth.  Our parents constantly preached that to us.  Dad would sermonize about how truth-tellin’ was one of the most important things in the character of a person.  Much to my surprise, on several occasions, he didn’t punish us quite as bad because we ‘fessed up to what we had done, and told him the truth about it all.  However, kids being what they are, we more often tried to lie our way out of whatever we had done wrong (and somehow thought that crossing our fingers while we were telling the lie would make it OK to tell the lie).  A’course, it mostly did no good, and we were found out in the end.  After I became a parent myself, I knew that the parent already knew who was responsible for what before that conversation even began.  What all that sermonizing did for me (and I hope it did the same for my kids) was to impress on me just how important honesty was.  Not only does it make life easier on me personally, but integrity and trust are the bedrock of any relationship, be it family, business, or friend.  It is the one single virtue that I hold in the highest regard.

Image courtesy of BrainyQuote.com

When we were kids, we had so many ways of swearing our honesty to our friends.  We’d make an X over our hearts and recite: “Cross my heart and hope to die, stick a needle in my eye…”(sometimes shortened to just “cross my heart” with the X over the heart motion), and of course there were “pinky promises”.   There was the phrase “Swear on a stack of Bibles”, often used in a question when trying to get to the truth of a secret or gossip that a friend was telling you.  It wasn’t enough to just tell your friend that you were telling the truth and not exaggerating… you had to “swear on a stack of Bibles” (although there was never a Bible involved), or you had to “cross your heart”, before you were truly believed.  Our complete belief was then given to what the friend was saying…. because, ya know… they swore on a stack of Bibles…. Com’on!

Image courtesy of BrainyQuote.com

Truth!  Honesty!  Facts, pure and simple!  Something we are seeing a shortage of these days.  Truth is, facts are hard to ferret out anymore.  There’s almost too much information available to us these days, and it makes it hard to figure out what’s true and what’s sorta true, and what’s only kinda true, and what’s down right made up stuff.  So many shade of grey.  Here’s the thing though…. Even something that is “almost true” is false.  You may, if you’re well-informed and do your research, be able to figure out what parts are true and what are not, but the “almost true” is still false.  It’s tricky…

Here’s the thing about facts… about truths….  Facts/Truths don’t care if you believe them or not… they’re true anyway.  That seems almost crazy to have to state, doesn’t it… but all you have to do is read (or listen to) the news to realize that there are many people that live around us all that think truths and facts are something created, not something that just “are”.  And the sad part is, they have thought this for so long that they can’t find their way out of the darkness anymore. 

Marcus Aurelius (Roman Emperor from 161 – 180, and known as the last of the “Five Good Emperors”) said “Everything we hear is an opinion, not a fact.  Everything we see is a perspective, not the truth.”  That's a little bit mind boggling when you think about it.  He didn't say some of the things, or a few of the things we hear/see......... he said EVERYTHING.  That, of course, was his perspective.... his opinion.  But it's certainly something to think about.

These words you are reading right now are, in fact, my perspective and opinion.  You get to choose whether you believe or disbelieve... whether you agree or disagree... whether it gives you food for thought... or not.  

Cross my heart!! 

Painting by Sandy Tracy