Blue Ribbon Apple Pie

I turned sixty-four on Thursday. January 19th. Helen made maple cream pie — my favorite, my mother's recipe, the one she's been making for my birthday since 1981 when she first attempted it and burned the crust and I ate it anyway and told her it was perfect, which it was, because the woman I loved made me a pie and the crust is the least important part of anything.

Sixty-four. I don't feel sixty-four, except when I shovel snow or climb the stairs too fast or try to sit in a low chair and my left leg reminds me that it's been carrying Vietnam's souvenirs for forty-five years and would like, please, to retire. The rest of me feels — I don't know. Like myself. However old that is. Age is a number that other people care about. I care about whether I can still quote Frost from memory ("Two roads diverged in a yellow wood" — yes, still there), whether the syrup season looks promising (it does), and whether the dog still gets up when I get up (he does, though slower than he used to, which makes two of us).

David called. Sarah called. The grandchildren sang "Happy Birthday" over the phone in a performance that was enthusiastic, off-key, and the best thing I heard all week. Teddy sang the loudest. Anna sang the longest, adding extra "happy birthdays" that weren't in the original composition. James babbled, which counted. Ben, nearly three, shouted "HAPPY GRAMPY" and hung up, which was both the shortest and most efficient birthday greeting I've ever received.

Helen gave me a new flannel shirt. Red and black check. I pointed out that I have seven flannel shirts. She pointed out that two of them have holes. I pointed out that holes are character. She pointed out that holes are cold. She wins. She always wins. The new shirt is warm and soft and I'm wearing it now, which she knows because she looked at me and smiled, and that smile is worth more than any shirt, though the shirt is also good.

For dinner I made what I wanted, which was boiled dinner. Not because it's fancy or celebratory or birthday-worthy by any normal standard. Because it's mine. It's the taste of this kitchen, this house, this life. Corned beef, cabbage, potatoes, turnips, carrots. Split the difference on the carrots. Helen's recipe card. My mother's recipe before that. My grandmother's before that. I'm sixty-four years old and I'm eating the same dinner my family has eaten in this room for a hundred years and the carrots are just right — not too soft, not too firm — and the woman across the table is the woman I chose forty years ago and would choose again tomorrow and every day after that.

Sixty-four. Not bad. Not bad at all. The pie was perfect. The crust was fine.

Helen’s maple cream pie will always be mine — burned crust and all — but if your own birthday table calls for something you can make yourself, this Blue Ribbon Apple Pie is the one I’d point you toward. It has the same quality that made my mother’s recipe worth keeping for forty years: it’s honest, it’s from scratch, and it tastes like someone made it on purpose, for someone they love. The crust, as I’ve always said, is the least important part — but this one’s worth getting right anyway.

Prep Time: 45 minutes | Cook Time: 55 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 40 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

For the crust:
2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon sugar
1 teaspoon salt
1 cup (2 sticks) cold unsalted butter, cut into 1/2-inch cubes
6–8 tablespoons ice water
For the filling:
3 lbs (about 6–7 medium) firm baking apples (Granny Smith, Honeycrisp, or a mix), peeled, cored, and sliced 1/4-inch thick
3/4 cup granulated sugar
2 tablespoons brown sugar, packed
2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice
1 teaspoon cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon nutmeg
1/4 teaspoon allspice
1/4 teaspoon salt
2 tablespoons unsalted butter, cut into small pieces
For finishing:
1 egg, beaten with 1 tablespoon water (egg wash)
1 tablespoon coarse sugar, for sprinkling

Instructions

Make the crust. Combine flour, sugar, and salt in a large bowl. Add cold butter cubes and work them in with your fingertips or a pastry cutter until the mixture resembles coarse crumbs with some pea-sized pieces of butter remaining. Add ice water one tablespoon at a time, stirring gently, until the dough just comes together. Divide into two discs, wrap in plastic, and refrigerate at least 1 hour or up to 2 days.
Prepare the filling. In a large bowl, toss the sliced apples with granulated sugar, brown sugar, flour, lemon juice, cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, and salt. Let sit for 15 minutes to allow the juices to release slightly.
Preheat and roll. Preheat the oven to 425°F. On a lightly floured surface, roll one disc of dough into a 12-inch circle. Transfer to a 9-inch pie dish and press gently into the bottom and sides, leaving a 1-inch overhang. Refrigerate while you roll the second disc.
Fill the pie. Pour the apple filling into the prepared crust, mounding it slightly in the center. Dot the top of the filling with the small pieces of butter. Roll out the second disc of dough and lay it over the filling. Trim both crusts to a 1/2-inch overhang, fold the edge under itself, and crimp firmly with your fingers or a fork.
Vent and finish. Cut 6–8 small slits in the top crust to allow steam to escape. Brush the entire surface with egg wash and sprinkle with coarse sugar.
Bake. Place the pie on a rimmed baking sheet (to catch drips) and bake at 425°F for 20 minutes. Reduce heat to 375°F and continue baking for 35–40 minutes, until the crust is deep golden brown and the filling is bubbling through the vents. If the crust edges brown too quickly, cover them loosely with foil.
Cool before slicing. Transfer the pie to a wire rack and let it cool for at least 2 hours before slicing. This allows the filling to set so it slices cleanly. It is worth the wait.

Nutrition (per serving)

Blue Ribbon Apple Pie — A Birthday Pie Worth Every Year