Adam, our eponym and absentee landlord, until very recently (2 days ago I think) has goodnaturedly called me a Red, a Commie, a bleeding heart liberal, and generally cast aspersions on my patriotism (always with love, but nonetheless...). He's recently changed his tune, and while I'm not sure what I did to deserve this turnaround, I offer the following as evidence that I'm a true blue American dammit -- I can bake an awesome apple pie. In the absence of inflated credit card debt, a stars-and-stripes foam finger, or a gas guzzling SUV, this is really the only evidence of my Americanness that I possess...The great thing about pie is that you can take the ugliest apples ever (like these from my grandma's front lawn, which I absconded with in the dead of night...no, no, no...kidding, kidding, I don't steal from grandma...I asked permission first) and peel away the ugly til you have perfect apple purity.
And then you throw together a very ugly pie crust because, well, mine always are. But if you use the magic ingredient...the scary magic ingredient...you will have incredible pie. Real pie. American pie. The secret ingredient?
Lard.
Don't be like that. Lard crusts are the only way to go. It's how your grandmother (whom I'm sure you never stole from either) made her crusts. If that isn't a stamp of approval, I don't know what is.
So you take your now perfect apples and throw in a little sugar, a little flour, a little butter, a little cinnamon, and presto change-0 -- Instant Patriotism.
God Bless America!
