Mom’s Apple Pie Recipe
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Category: |
Category: |
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Ingredients: |
Ingredients: 2 - Pillsbury frozen pie crusts (bring to room temperature)6 cups of thinly sliced apples (Mitzu, Granny Smith, and a few McIntosh)
3/4 cups white sugar
2 tablespoons flour
3 teaspoons ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 teaspooon nutmeg
My glass pie dish that was my grandma Gorski’s
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Directions: |
Directions:Spray pie plate with non-stick vegetable spray. Lay one of the pie crusts in the pie plate and press. Set the other pie crust in the refrigerator layed flat until ready to use. Using my counter-top apple slicer peeler corer, prepare all the apples and put in my Grandma Gorski’s big yellow Tupperware bowl (the one used for the sweet rolls). Mix all other ingredients in a mixing bowl and sprinkle on the apples. Mix with hands until all covered. Put in the pie dish. Take the other pie crust out of the refrigerator. Put on top and crimp the edges of the pie together. Using a sharp knife, cut four leaf shapes out of the middle of the pie for vents. Lay the cut out dough in the middle of the holes to form a circle. This is my signature pattern, You can also do a lattice top by cutting the dough in strips and alternate weave on the top and crimp. Place dish on cookie sheet. Use metal outer crust guards to prevent crust from burning. Finally, brush crust with milk and sprinkle with white sugar. Bake at 400 degrees for about 45 minutes or until apples are soft but still a little firm - in other words like pasta - al dente. Cool to room temperature and serve with ice cream or homemade whipped cream. |
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Number Of
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Number Of
Servings:8 |
Preparation
Time: |
Preparation
Time:1 hour |
Personal
Notes: |
Personal
Notes: I love making apple pies for your father and you and your sister. I remember going to canada for Columbus Day and going apple picking. Your Nonno would always get a bushel of apples. When you were little he pulled you on the little red wagon. You loved eating apples, especially Jessica. Your Nonno would take out his knife (that your dad and I picked out for him for his first Christmas present when we first got married) and cut off pieces or apple and hand them to you when you were little. Walking through the orchard he would tell you stories of Italy and how it was for him growing up in Italy. I will never forget those trips. The leaves were in full color, the air was crisp, the sun was shining, and the orchard smelled like opening a jar of my Grandma’s homemade applesauce.
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