By Hand Daily Prompt
There are a few foods in this world that if placed in front of me would result in me jumping up and hugging the person who presented them. Just about anything that has cranberries in it, a really good muffin, and the ultimate food in my book Apple Pie. I’ve only had the opportunity to have one made for me once. The giver was not a fan of doing anything in the kitchen, she knows how to cook but just doesn’t enjoy the experience. So for her to put the time and effort into it was something very special to me.
The last time anyone had made something for me was almost 20 years before, when I was in high school. Money for teenagers was spent on other things, so for some 17 year old girl to come up with the idea of making something for dinner rather than going out was a novelty. In all of the ensuing years, I had never come across someone who was willing to take the time. I’m a good cook, so it always fell on me [and I’m okay with that!]
The apple pie was perfect in appearance. Just the right color of brown on the crust. Nothing oozing out of the sides indicating that the person eating it might in some way be slighted out of the rightful taste pleasures. Even when you cut a piece, it held together like few pies ever would. It was visually the best looking pie I had seen in some time.
Whitney didn’t want to share in the pie. She felt she had made it for me and wanted me to enjoy it in my own way, in my own time. So as she watched me take a fork to the plate, the smile on her face was palpable. I couldn’t wait to try my bite. Shoving the fork into my mouth I could tell the instant I felt the apples hit my tongue that something was a little off. Maybe it was just this first bite. No the second bite was just the same. The pie that I was drooling over for the way she had taken the time to make it for me was not quite right. The smile on my face remained the same. Someone cared enough to do something outside of themselves, no way was I going to ruin that.
I finished my slice and later the rest of the pie. It took me two years to ask her how she made the pie. She told me her father kept bags of prepared apples cut and frozen so she just mixed them into the crust. There is easy way to ask “Do you know if there was any sugar in those apples?”, but I found a way. Whitney assumed they were right from the start, never thought about it. I told her that there was nothing wrong with what she did. I loved the fact she did it at all! I then told her the story about a girl in my junior high that confused 1 cup of sugar with one cup of salt when making orange juice. [true story, was even during some school project where the vice-principle was attending!]
That pie might have not tasted quite the way one would expect. It was prefect in every manner simply because she had made it!