American Family Unity Through Apple Pie

To begin, use a pastry blade in a mixer to blend together three cups of flour, one and one-third cups of shortening, and one teaspoon of salt until it resembles corn meal. Pack the mixture all together into a big ball and add three to four tablespoons of ice cold water. Roll out the dough and place approximately half of it into a pie plate, remembering to poke holes in the piecrust to prevent it from shrinking in the hot oven. Using an apple parer, peel, core, and cut (into tiny pieces) five to six Granny Smith apples. Then combine about two-thirds cup of sugar with one to two teaspoons of cinnamon and coat the apples with the mixture. Pour the entire contents into the pie plate, dot with two tablespoons of butter. Cover the pie plate with the other half of the dough and place in the oven at four hundred and twenty-five degrees for roughly an hour. As the juice begins to boil and the crust starts to brown, remove from the oven and serve. My father received this recipe for apple pie from my grandmother as it became obvious she was entering the final stages of her life. For both the United States nation as well as for me, apple pie has come to function as a symbol of the unity of the American family.

Despite the common cliché “as American as apple pie,” the inhabitants of England originally baked and developed the apple pie. As the English colonists came to America, they brought the apple pie with them. Researchers provide conflicting years in which it emerged in the United States. Some sources claim that it came, by means of the colonists, to America around the eighteenth century (Gerjuoy). While others argue that since the English brought over apple seeds in 1620 along with their techniques for preparing pies, the year 1620 should establish the appearance of apple pie in the United States (Grivetti, Corlett, and Lockett). Regardless of this ongoing debate over apple pie’s origins, the English began to grow apples as they settled in the colonies. They brought their “cherished familiar foods- apples, for instance” (Root and Rochemont 58) from England. Settlers planted apple seeds throughout their land, which began to flourish in the new climate, and within approximately ten years, apple orchards extended across the northern colonies (Root and Rochemont 58). The thriving apple orchards required the work of many people. Families joined to together to gather the abundant foreign fruit. The picking, peeling, coring, and chopping of apples, a key ingredient in apple pie, demonstrates the beginning of the unity required of early American families.

Although apples grew vigorously in their new environment, colonists continued to live in harsh, primitive conditions as they settled in North America. Pies became a practical food for the circumstances of the new American families; they were easy to make, required few ingredients, and fed many. An entry from The Oxford Encyclopedia of Food and Drink in America states, “A piecrust uses less flour than bread and did not require anything as complicated as a brick oven for baking. More important, though, was how pies could stretch even the most meager provisions into sustaining a few more hungry mouths” (Willard). Even given apple pie’s practicality, many viewed the dish as a “special treat” (Root and Rochemont 179). After working in the fields or picking apples, families came together to enjoy each other’s presence over a slice of homemade apple pie.

As apple pie’s popularity grew across the states, Americans developed ways to make the dessert more efficiently. The final product that emerges from the oven appears to remain the same throughout history: “by the end of the sixteenth century…apple pies were almost identical to the ones in America in the early twenty-first century” (Gerjuoy). Nevertheless, manufacturers created a tool to rid bakers of the most cumbersome task: peeling, coring, and cutting the apples. This mechanical device, known as an apple parer, has existed since 1804. The production of the tool corresponds to the events occurring simultaneously in North America. Explorers travelled to expand into the west of the United States, a region, which author Susan Williams, claims to be “prime apple-growing territory” (Williams 70). As America increased in size, it also experienced the Industrial Revolution. The profusion of apples combined with Americans’ new interest with mechanical production led to the appearance of the apple parer (Williams 70). Stores still sell this tool today and I recently discovered my dad uses it when he prepares apple pies. He refers to the apple parer as “revolutionary for the way I make pies” (Newnam). Currently, stores also sell ready-made crusts and bakers provide quick crust recipes to assist in eliminating another difficult element of making an apple pie (Willard). These developments make it possible for more people to make an apple pie for times when they come together as a family.

Over the years, many people have come to view apple pie as a symbol of America. Phrases such as, “easy as apple pie” of “as American as apple pie,” are commonly used throughout the states. The Oxford English Dictionary even defines apple pie as “typically or traditionally American…[and] intrinsic to or emblematic of American culture” (The Oxford English Dictionary). Despite the popularity of these associations, no published research explores their origins. Given basic knowledge of the United States’ history, one can identify a possible time period. The idea of the American Dream arose around the eighteenth century for all types of families. A general characteristic could not identify every American family because throughout history the United States became a melting pot of many cultures. As many people experienced success and prosperity all over the country, families gained more free time to spend together. Since families ate apple pie as one throughout history, the dessert became not only a symbol of people’s idea of America, but also the unification of the American family.

As it does for American culture, apple pie unites my whole family. I cannot pinpoint my earliest memory of eating apple pie because of its consistent, recurring appearance in my household. My family has enjoyed this dessert at every Thanksgiving, Christmas, or visit from any of my dad’s family since I can remember. We also enjoy the delicious leftovers the following morning for breakfast. A standard expectation on Thanksgiving and Christmas morning or when news of an extended family member’s arrival spreads throughout the house is that my dad can be found baking an apple pie. This dish has become so common that I rarely notice when my father goes to Publix to buy the ingredients. The entire family enjoys apple pie for more than simply the dessert; we come together to be with one another.

As my dad begins to bake the apple pie on these specific occasions, delicious smells and familiar sounds fill our home. The noise of the mixer blending the ingredients to make the dough, the rolling pin touching the wooden board, the peeling of apples, and finally the beep of the preheated oven generate feelings of comfort and happiness as I sit in my room. As my dad removes the pie from the oven and my mom sets the table, my whole family sits down to eat together surrounded by the smell of cinnamon and freshly cooked dough. We converse over the main meal course until the temptation of the pie overcomes us all. My mom attempts to precisely cut the desert, but in the end she generally gives everybody a plate with a piece of mush containing pie-crust and apples covered with cinnamon. Regardless of the appearance, the rich, delectable taste consistently remains the same. In the easily crumbled crust, one can enjoy both the smooth, flour-filled dough and the crunchy, dark-brown edges. The inside contains a juicy mixture of cinnamon and sugar perfectly adjusted to compliment the tartness of the apples. Eating this dessert creates a time for my family to come together as one and enjoy each other’s company. In my life, apple pie functions as a symbol of my immediate family’s unity.

Apple pie similarly became a customary dish during my father’s childhood, probably more so than my own. My grandmother loved to bake, thus this dessert often appeared on the kitchen table when my dad came home from school. He recalls this regularity as he says, “I can’t remember a time when I didn’t have it…I remember coming home from kindergarten and smelling hot apple pie” (Newnam). His emphasis on the smell reveals that the pie’s significance goes beyond that of the tangible object. It creates an aroma that my dad remembers vividly and aims to recreate as he prepares it now. The frequency of apple pies throughout my dad’s life developed distinct memories that represent his childhood.

As he grew older and my grandmother entered the final stages of her life, my dad felt an obligation to preserve her apple pie. He has six siblings and for many years assumed one of them obtained the recipe. Yet, during his late twenties he “realized that none of [his] siblings learned her baking skills or got her recipes” (Newnam). After becoming aware of this fact, he asked his mother for them in an “attempt to preserve something that was very special in [his] household” (Newnam). The lengthy and detailed process my dad created in obtaining this recipe demonstrates the significance of apple pie for my dad. He wrote it down, and then went home to practice implementing it, and afterwards they discussed it. He expresses his incentives for this conversation when he says, “If something didn’t work out for me, I wanted to know why, what I had missed” (Newnam). The meticulous method my dad used to save the apple pie recipe reveals his desire to continually and accurately remake it.

Precisely recreating the apple pie remains important to my dad because it reminds him of his mother. As he rolls out the dough, cuts the apples, and adds the cinnamon and sugar, he remembers her. He expresses these thoughts when he states, “It is hard for me to make [pies] without thinking about her” (Newnam). These feelings require him to make it, “for reasons [he] can’t explain” (Newnam), at certain times during the year “that were very important to her” (Newnam). He neglected to identify these times. From my own experiences, I imagine holidays and visits from family because my dad bakes them without anyone asking him to do so. My grandmother valued times spent together as a family and those events fulfill her desires. I expect my dad feels an obligation to maintain that family unity in honor of my grandmother. For my dad, apple pie becomes more than a dessert or a representation of his childhood; it functions as a symbol of his mother. It keeps the unity she expects of our loud, rambunctious, large Newnam family alive.

I recently came to understand the power apple pie has on members of the extended family on my dad’s side. This past summer my dad and I traveled to Tampa, Florida for our last visit with Kenny, my godfather, who was also my cousin and my dad’s first nephew. He had been battling cancer for many years and passed away the week after we left. When we arrived at his house other members of the family greeted us and we went to say hello to Kenny. He remained in high spirits, yet one could see his pain and struggled to understand him. However, the spirits throughout the house seemed very low because everyone knew his days were numbered. After a couple of hours, my dad suggested we bake grandmother’s apple pie for everyone. We spent the afternoon baking and as the smell of pie in the oven spread all through Kenny’s home, stress levels decreased, replaced by feelings of comfort. As this happened, I took a moment to observe the force of apple pie in this Newnam family. It truly represents what my grandmother had hoped: the comfort that comes from bringing the family together. After saying the final words to my beloved cousin, we took the pie out of the oven and left for the airport. I know that its presence alone provided all Kenny’s visiting relatives with strength, for it symbolized the support and love of the entire Newnam family.

In families, you support one another, laugh at one another, and sometimes think you hate one another, but through it all you always love one another. As lives become busier and leisure time dwindles, it remains important for people to remember the meaning of family and importance of unity. Everyone has a time when relatives, brothers, sisters, moms, and dads come together, whether the presence of apple pie exists or not. During those moments, it is important to forget your busy life and to cherish and be grateful for all the family members around you.

APPLE PIE RECIPE

Crust:

3 cups of flour

1 1/3 cups of shortening

1 teaspoon of salt

Blend all of that together (either with a pastry blade in a mixer or take two knives and criss-cross and cut it up). Get it to look like corn meal (small tiny pieces). You want the shortening attached to flour. Roll it all together into a big ball and add 3-4 tablespoons of ice cold water (you don’t want to the shortening to get too warm from over handling it). Roll that out and put half into a pie plate. Put holes in the pie- crust so it doesn’t shrink in the oven.

Filling:

5-6 apples

2/3 cup of sugar

1-2 teaspoons of cinnamon

2 tablespoons of butter

Core and cut the apples. The smaller the slices of apples the more it will taste like apples and not the spices. Mix together about 2/3 cup of sugar with between 1-2 teaspoons of cinnamon (use that to coat the apples). Pour that into the piecrust. Take 2 tablespoons of butter and dot the apple mixer.

Roll out the other part of the piecrust and put that on top. Put in the oven at 425 degrees for about 45-50 minutes (see the juices begin to boil a little bit).

Works Cited

“Apple pie.” The Oxford English Dictionary. Web. 5 Dec. 2011 .

Gerjuoy, Judy. "Apple Pie." The Oxford Encyclopedia of Food and Drink in America Web. 5 Dec. 2011. .

Grivetti, Louis E., Jan L. Corlett, and Cassius T. Lockett. "Food In American History Part 4: Apples."Nutrition Today. Aug. 2001. Web. 5 Dec. 2011. .

Newnam, Bill. Personal Interview. 27 Nov. 2011.

Root, Waverley Lewis, and Rochemont De Rochemont. Eating in America: A History. New York: Morrow, 1976. Print.

Willard, Pat. "Pies and Tarts." The Oxford Encyclopedia of Food and Drink in America. Web. 5 Dec. 2011..

Williams, Susan. Food in the United States, 1820s-1890. Westport, CT: Greenwood, 2006. Print

Pictures From Making an Apple Pie

My First Thanksgiving as a College Student

After a short, stressful week filled with tests and a midterm, I finally took that momentous five-minute drive to my house. Although my arrival home was most likely not as dramatic as my friend’s, who flew home to Seattle for the first time since she arrived at Emory, I was still overjoyed to see my family, visit with old friends, and sleep in my own bed. I woke up Thursday morning under my warm comforter to the smell of pancakes. I got up and enjoyed my first homemade breakfast with my family since fall break. They told me that we would be spending Thanksgiving dinner with my best friend’s family.

My mom, dad, sister and I spent most of the morning cooking for the grand meal we would experience later in the day. My dad cooked four of his famous homemade pies, my mom made her delicious stuffing, and my sister and I assisted wherever was needed. First, we decided to learn the art of preparing piecrusts from scratch from my dad. My sister and I mixed together flour, shortening, and salt to form a ball of dough and then lathered it with ice water. We rolled the dough out and carefully placed it into each pie plate. Finally, we added the filling to each one. About five hours later, four pies sat on the kitchen table: an apple, a pumpkin, a lemon meringue, and a chocolate. My mom added the final touches to the stuffing, my dad cooked some broccoli and corn, and we loaded up the car to go to my friend’s house.

After a careful drive down the street, my friend’s welcoming family and the smell of turkey in the oven greeted us. We were then introduced to one of their family friends who would be joining us for dinner. She was from China and cooked homemade dumplings for us to eat as an appetizer. She made three different types: pork with corn, pork with green beans, and pork with Chinese vegetables. She paired them with a dipping sauce and we enjoyed delicious, fresh dumplings. When we finished eating the appetizer, we played a game of Clue until dinner was ready.

As we tried to solve a murder mystery, the smell of Thanksgiving dinner filled the room. There was an aroma containing the smells of turkey, fresh vegetables, ham, and stuffing. My mom came around and asked what we wanted to drink with dinner, which signaled that it was time to eat. A colorful buffet was set up along the counter. I grabbed a plate and began to fill it with everything on the counter: turkey, ham, broccoli, corn, stuffing, bread, green beans, mashed potatoes, and I even put some brussel sprouts on my plate. The room silenced as we all stuffed our faces with food. As I neared the end of my plate, all the food seemed to mix together to make one flavor-filled last bite. It contained the creamy potatoes, fresh vegetables, seasoned turkey, juicy ham, and savory stuffing. As I entered the highly anticipated food coma, I walked to the couch to lie down.

Everyone eventually joined me and we spent about an hour talking. Finally, my sister mentioned the pies that sat on the counter glowing under the light. We finished the night playing board games and trying all the different pies. I went to bed that night with the taste of tangy lemon meringue pie, creamy chocolate mousse pie, zesty pumpkin pie, and sweet apple pie lingering in my mouth.

The “Ugly Duckling” Dish

I can smell it when I am upstairs doing homework, I see it almost every Sunday on the dinner table, and it always looks just as nasty as the week before. It sits in the glass pie plate, covered with different colored cheeses, and filled with an array of vegetables. This dish is known as vegetable quiche; it is the centerpiece to the one meal in which it is assured that our entire family is present for during the week, despite our chaotic lives.

Although throughout by high school career I rarely had the time to help my mom prepare the quiche on Sunday, I still remember the quite lengthy process of making it. It always begins with a grocery store adventure. We start in the bakery section, gathering a fresh baguette to accent the quiche and then wander to the produce section for the majority of the ingredients. We collect onions, tomatoes, eggplant, squash, and zucchini along with the fixings for a salad to accompany our meal. After making a quick run to get Parmesan and mozzarella cheese, we head to the check out line.

Once back in the kitchen, the vegetables are laid out on cutting boards and we get sharp knives. We spend approximately thirty minutes chopping and dicing all the produce. After it is all chopped, a rainbow array, from the red tomatoes to the purple eggplant, of vegetables line the kitchen counter. However, this beautiful sight does not last long.

My mom then finds the biggest pot we own, turns on the stove, puts in onions, and watches them sizzle. The vegetables are then added and continually stirred for roughly forty-five minutes. While someone mans the stove, my mom mixes eggs, milk, Parmesan, and mozzarella cheese in a large bowl. As the end of the hour approaches, the vegetables mix into what appears to the eye as “dark brown, lumpy mush.” The dairy and eggs are then added to the large pot to change the color of the vegetable “mush” to light brown.

The final step is to add the mixture to a glass pie pan, sprinkle some extra Parmesan cheese on top, and place the dish in the oven for an hour. The smell of fresh vegetables and cheese fills all the rooms throughout our house. As the hour nears, we set the table, fix the salad, and toast the bread. Our family gathers around the kitchen and the steaming hot quiche is placed in the center of the table.

As it sits on the table, we know that the cheesy top layer of the quiche only disguises the brown “mushy” layer underneath. My mom cuts the pieces and places them on our plates. The quiche slowly deforms as the mixture of vegetables oozes around the plate. Despite the ugly appearance, the freshness of the various vegetables combined with the light, fluffy cheesy covering makes for a delicious bite. After an hour of conversing and eating, my family has consumed at least two-thirds of the quiche. The following day it is a fight for the leftovers.

I think of quiche as an “ugly duckling” because the dish appears very unattractive, yet it contains the most beautiful combination of flavors. I look forward to not only eating it, but also spending the time with my family. I am excited to go home for winter break and eat many helpings of vegetable quiche.

The Seven-Layer Cookie

Cookies come in all different shapes and sizes. Everyone has a favorite cookie whether its peanut butter, chocolate chip, or oatmeal raisin. Familial recipes used to bake these particular cookies usually date back to past generations. When I was eight years old, my mom first introduced me to her grandmother’s seven-layer cookies.

Ten years ago, my third grade teacher announced that our class was going to have a bake sale for the Atlanta Humane Society and that everyone needed to bring some baked good. I rushed home excited to start baking with my mom and sister. I was all prepared to make chocolate chip cookies when my mom suggested that we try something different: seven-layer cookies. I was in awe and began contemplating how one cookie could have seven layers. My mom said we needed to go on a grocery store run in order to make them. We all piled into the car and drove to the nearest Publix.

My mom started going through the aisles with the cart. She picked up a box of graham cracker crumbs and butter, bags of chocolate chips, butterscotch chips, coconut, and pecans along with a jar of sweetened condensed milk. When we got home we laid all of the ingredients out on the counter and my mom asked me to count and make sure we had seven ingredients, sure enough we did, so we started baking.

My sister and I began to sprinkle the graham cracker crumbs along the bottom of the pan, while my mom melted a tablespoon of butter in the microwave. Then we mixed the graham cracker crumbs and butter together to create a solid base for the cookie. Next, my sister and I added the chocolate chips and butterscotch chips to the pan. Followed by the addition of the coconut and pecans. The final step, and most difficult step, required my mom to pour the jar of sweetened condensed milk evenly over the coconut and pecans. After that, we placed the pan in the oven heated to 350 degrees.

Forty-five minutes later the base hardened, the sweetened condensed milk melted over the top of the cookie, and the tips of the coconut browned. We divided the pan up into about twenty-five cookies. When we took them out of the pan, we could see all seven layers of the cookies. We placed them in Ziploc bags and I brought them to school the next day for the bake sale, at which they were sold immediately. However, before we gave them all away my sister and I each got to try a cookie. It was delicious. The combination of flavors and textures made the perfect cookie; the crusty graham cracker layer complimented the gooey top layer along with the crunchy nuts and chocolate chips.

Years later when I attempted to make seven-layer cookies by myself, I realized that there was no written down recipe. My mom simply added the ingredients without thinking. When I asked her how much of this or that to put onto the pan, I received answers like: “a hand full” or “until the graham cracker crumbs are covered.” She taught me that baking is not always about the precise measurements. Rather, it is about improvisation and experimentation with different ingredients in order to create a dessert that is sweet and delicious.

Seven-layer cookies have become a signature dessert in my life. I will always remember the first time I made them with my mom and sister. Now, my family makes these cookies for holidays, parties, and even just for fun. They are delicious, quick and easy cookies to make. I recently discovered that the staff at the Dobbs University Center, here on Emory’s campus, occasionally makes seven-layer cookies for students to enjoy. Although they do not taste like the ones my mom makes, they are a nice reminder of home.

photo by: treataweek.blogspot.com

A True Italian Experience

Whether from a Pizza Hut or a small restaurant in Italy, pizza is eaten across the world. It can be made with thick crusts, thin crusts, pepperoni, vegetables, and much more. Regardless of the abundance of pizza places, everyone has a favorite. Last year I discovered the best pizzeria in Atlanta, Antico.

During my freshman year of high school, my best friend’s family installed a pizza oven in their house and they began cooking homemade pizza. Her dad quickly became the expert pizza maker: perfecting the crust, combining delicious toppings, and even cooking a s’mores pizza. After one of our weekly basketball games, he suggested that the team go to a new pizza place near Georgia Tech called Antico. Trusting his pizza expertise, four of my teammates and our families crammed in the car and drove to 1093 Hemphill Avenue.

We drove up to a small building with limited parking at about nine o’clock that night. I stepped out of the car and immediately smelled fresh pizza dough coming from inside the restaurant. Once everyone parked, we all walked through the doors. I felt as though I was entering a pizzeria in Italy; it was filled with noise, native Italians, and an aroma of pizza and wine. The restaurant was arranged in a family style with large tables surrounded by multiple people. We walked to the cashier and began looking at menus. We soon discovered that they were written entirely in Italian, so we decided to try different pizzas. The pizza they make originates from Naples, Italy. My family ordered the Margherita and Marinara, as we were advised that two pizzas were sufficient for a family of four. After I placed my order, I walked through the restaurant with my friends.

We discovered that there was a large warehouse in the back with long, rectangular tables completely filled with customers. In the warehouse, there were large bags of flour and chefs tossing pizza dough for, we assumed, hours on end. We discovered that the restaurant stays open until they run out of dough. All fourteen of us eventually found space at a table near the front. Within about twenty minutes, our number was called and my dad returned with two large pizzas.

The first was the Margherita, which had tomato, basil, and garlic on top of a cheese pizza. Then he brought the Marinara, which is topped with san marzano, garlic, origano, romano, and white anchovy. The pizzas were, as you would say in Italian, meraviglioso! The crust, cooked to perfection, was the ideal medium between thick and thin. The cheese lightly covered the whole pizza and melted in my mouth. The toppings added flavor to each piece with juicy tomatoes, fresh basil, and perfectly salted anchovies. By the end, napkins and crumbs were all that remained on the table. Satisfied and full, we climbed back into our cars and drove home, continuing to discuss the amazing pizza place, Antico.

So if you are looking for a good time with some friends and family, a cultural experience, and willing to pay about twenty dollars, Antico is the place for you. Antico is undoubtedly my favorite pizza place in the Atlanta area. Although they do not deliver, you can order pizza online and go pick it up.

For more information visit: www.anticopizza.it

*Photographs from (respectively): anticopizza.it, theroadforks.com