Upside Down Apple Pie -- Because Forty Pounds of Apples Won't Eat Themselves

Apple season in Iowa. I took the kids to an orchard outside Pella on Saturday — one of those pick-your-own places where you pay by the pound and the trees are heavy with Honeycrisps and Jonathans and the air smells like cider and dirt and fall. The kids picked apples the way kids do — enthusiastically, indiscriminately, grabbing every apple within reach regardless of whether it was ripe or the size of a tennis ball or had a worm hole the size of a dime. We came home with forty pounds of apples. I did not need forty pounds of apples. I now have forty pounds of apples.

I made an apple crisp Sunday night that used approximately six of the forty pounds. Peeled, sliced, tossed with sugar and cinnamon and a squeeze of lemon, topped with a crumble of oats, flour, brown sugar, and butter. Baked until the apples are soft and bubbling and the topping is golden and crunchy. Served warm with vanilla ice cream. This is the platonic ideal of fall dessert. If you disagree, I question your values.

The remaining thirty-four pounds are staring at me from the counter. I'll make applesauce this week — Mom's recipe, which is just apples, sugar, cinnamon, and water cooked down until it's thick. I'll make apple butter if I'm ambitious. I'll make apple pie for Kevin because he mentioned once, three years ago, that he liked apple pie, and I remember every food preference any member of my family has ever expressed, which is either a gift or a sickness depending on who you ask.

Dad called to tell me his garden is winding down. The tomatoes are done. The sweet corn has been picked. The green beans gave their last harvest. He's pulling plants and turning soil, preparing the beds for winter the way you prepare anything for sleep — gently, deliberately, with the knowledge that it'll wake up again if you treat it right. He said the sunflowers are still standing, dried and brown, and he's going to save the seeds. For next year. There's always next year with Roger Weber.

I took a picture of Emma holding an apple bigger than her fist, grinning with a gap-toothed smile that I will remember when I'm old. Jack carried his apples in his shirt, the fabric stretched into a basket, serious as a harvest hand. Noah calculated the cost per pound and informed me we overpaid. He's right. He's always right about numbers. I don't care. The overpaying is part of the experience.

We came home with more apples than we knew what to do with — which is exactly how I like it. Noah’s accounting aside, every extra pound felt like a small act of defiance against the season ending, against Dad’s garden going quiet, against all the things that don’t come back the same way twice. Upside down apple pie felt right because it’s a little theatrical, a little celebratory — the kind of thing you make when you want the fruit to be the whole point. Here’s how we made it.

Upside Down Apple Pie

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 55 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 20 minutes | Servings: 8

Ingredients

• 4 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted
• 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
• 1/2 cup pecan halves (optional, for topping)
• 2 refrigerated or homemade pie crusts
• 5–6 medium apples (Honeycrisp or Jonathan work beautifully), peeled, cored, and thinly sliced (about 6 cups)
• 1/2 cup granulated sugar
• 2 tablespoons all-purpose flour
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 1 tablespoon fresh lemon juice

Instructions

1. Preheat and prep the pan. Preheat your oven to 375°F. Pour the melted butter into a 9-inch deep-dish pie pan, swirling to coat the bottom and sides evenly. Sprinkle the brown sugar over the butter in an even layer. Arrange pecan halves over the brown sugar if using—this becomes the caramelized topping once inverted.
2. Lay in the first crust. Press one pie crust gently into the pan over the brown sugar layer. It will overlap the edges—that’s fine. Press it lightly into the bottom and up the sides without tearing.
3. Make the apple filling. In a large bowl, toss the sliced apples with the granulated sugar, flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, salt, and lemon juice until evenly coated. Let sit for 5 minutes so the juices begin to release.
4. Fill and top. Pour the apple mixture into the crust-lined pan, mounding slightly in the center. Lay the second pie crust over the apples. Fold and tuck the edges of both crusts together, pressing to seal. Cut 4–5 small slits in the top crust to vent steam.
5. Bake. Place the pie on a foil-lined baking sheet to catch any drips. Bake for 50–60 minutes, until the crust is deep golden brown and the filling is bubbling through the vents. If the edges brown too quickly, tent loosely with foil after 30 minutes.
6. Rest and invert. Remove from the oven and let cool for exactly 5 minutes—no longer, or the caramel will stick. Run a thin knife around the edge of the pan, place a large serving plate firmly over the top, and flip in one confident motion. Lift the pan away slowly. Spoon any caramel left in the pan back over the top.
7. Serve. Serve warm, ideally with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. The caramelized brown sugar and apple juices will have melted into a glossy, golden topping that makes this pie look like you planned it this way all along.

Nutrition (per serving)

Calories: 420 | Protein: 3g | Fat: 18g | Carbs: 64g | Fiber: 3g | Sodium: 280mg