Grandma's Apple Pies

Ya gotta make do with watcha got.

Grandma's Apple Pies

I remember way back in the olden days, when my grandma was still alive, the smell of fresh made apple pie.

She's set em up on a window sill to cool off a bit.

The aroma nearly drove me wild as I pranced back and forth wonderin how I was gonna get me some of it.

"You stay away from that window boy or I'll whack you a good one." she'd holler at me.

I got my share of whackings growin up.

Every year, about Fair Time, grandma would start gettin in her ready makin mode .

The fair was a big thing with all sorts of things goin on, some of which I can't mention here.

But there was this one thing goin on... the apple bakin contest.

Every year grandma would fix up one of here special recipies and enter it into the contest. It was agonizing watching her fix it knowin there would be none of it for us.

It was one of them contest only pies.

Everybody knew already that grandma's pie was the one ta beat. She had won it eight years goin.

But this year was differnt cause of the apples. The crop wern't too good this year, and the apples were bitter, and just plain rotten.

Grandma was beside herself for what ta do.

It was then when she remembered sumthin.

It had been a great year for pears. They were better than they'd ever been.

It was them pears that caused Grandma ta remember.

Way back when she was a young girl how she had learnt from her momma how ta make apple pie outta pears.

The way she tells it, they wuz bettern apples, and no one ever knew any differnse.

She gathered up a dozen or so of the finest ones she could find, and then picked out the best of them.

She put her mind ta work, recallin how her own momma had done it.

Grandma had a magical touch about her, especially when it come ta cookin.

She worked through all the day, and half the night puttin together her masterpiece.

She worked as though she were an artist of some sort, like Michael Duh Angelo paintin the ceilin with half naked women.

Come the next day she was ready, pacin the floor, and gettin things ready.

She packed up her prize pie and left off to the Fair.

Watchin the judges taste and retaste her pie made one wonder if maybe somthin had gone wrong. But the look on them judges eyes each time they tasted it told a story of sheer delight. Before long there wern't none left ta be tasted.

Soon after the pie run out, she was declared over all winner and recieved a great big Blue Ribbon and $50 dollars.

Grandma smiled and winked at the head judge and said,

"Well mister, howd ya like them apples."

Well all laughed cause we knew the truth.

The lesson here is, well...sometimes ya just gotta make do with whatcha got.

Sometimes it turns out okay, and sometimes it don't.

And if it don't work out, don't give up and cry about it.

Pick yurself up and keep on goin.

That's how my grandma won the apple pie contest.

I never did get a taste of that pie.

Author's Note

Mmm, nuthin like fresh baked apple pie.

Reviews

[Patricia Wedel]

Good story-tellin ... I like to add pieces of home-grown Rhubarb to my Apple pies... cooked just enough to melt in your mouth...
with tender flaky pie crust... served with thin slices of cheddar cheese... then all I need are grandchildren ... hungry as can 🐝 bee...
tenderly, Pat

[Greg Gorman]

You got your share of whackings. I think we all did at some point. It usually only took one to set us straight.
You start with a great visual: a pie on the window sill. I don't know if I ever saw that in real life. I always wondered if people ever did that or if it was one of those pictures/descriptions people used. Then again, it had to start somewhere. Right.
You mention a little mental torture. A child is looking at a pie. It's hot and it smells delicious. Can't have any, though. It's for the fair. I'll bet the child wants to be a pie judge when they grow up.
Grandma seems resourceful. The apples are no good this year but that's not going to stop her. She's going to enter that contest one way or another. There are pears. I assumed she was going to make a pear pie (is that even a thing?). Then you talk about making do with what you have. I assume she entered an apple pie made of pears? I'm wondering how she was able to pass that off. Then again, she seems like an amazing person. "How do you like them apples?" Nice.
Why was she pacing the floor? Was she nervous? Was there something else that needed to finish. You said she was ready. I was confused as to why she was nervous.
Was there a special tradition with the pies? The apples were no good. Why did she want to enter the contest so bad? Did she need the money? Maybe write why she wanted to do this with no apples. I did like how you write in the way she was talking. I could imagine an old lady talking like that while she was preparing and baking. She seems to have a great plan in store and she was able to pull it off.