Apple Economics

Madame's Nightshirt

Mrs. Peperium

 Apple Slump

 

This past summer I read a perfectly beastly book; The Peabody Sisters of Salem.  I picked it up because I was hoping to connect some genealogical dots of my own and ended up connecting the dots on what happened to Boston, the state of Massachusetts, and eventually all of America : The Peabody women destroyed everything in the path of their petticoats. While I would love to prattle on about Elizabeth Peabody, her mother who went on the game, Elizabeth's three mentally ill daughters, her son-in-law (the original Christopher Buckley) the revoltingly effete Nathanial Hawthorne (My Gawd, what a pansy pants!) or her other son-in-law, the obnoxiously superior Horace Mann who took his mentally ill Peabody bride on a 6 month tour of the English penal system for their honeymoon with the Julia Ward Howes, but I lack the time to truly delve into the whacky deliciousness that gave America Barack Obama. Besides, I promised Basil I would drop politics for the remainder of the election cycle. 

But I do not lack the time to discuss another woman from Massachusetts who Basil; Louisa May Alcott.  Until I read The Peabody Sisters I believed Louisa May Alcott to be pure unadulterated hot stuff.  Now I realise that she was a bit off in the head too and dabbling in that intellectual bosh called Transcendentalism which was really a fancy name for a type of ambitious man who did not to know what to do when he was alone with a woman.  The root of this ambitious man's problem is that to achieve his professional goals he chose not to do it in a man's world but rather do it by hanging out with 'educated' women who hated men, but, unfortunately was too impressed with himself to figure this out.  But again, I promised Basil I 'd stop talking about what is wrong with the Peggy Noonans, Kathleen Parkers, David Brooks, and Christopher Buckleys of the world, so back to Louisa May Alcott.  

Louisa, as almost all can recall, wrote Little Women.  And dear readers none of you should for a moment not find it hard to believe Little Woman was an inspirational book.  It was. Naturally I identified with Jo - the sister who had to stand with her back to the wall with her hands behind her at dances refusing partners because she had singed the backsides all of her party crinolines by standing to close to the fire place at previous dances and soiled all of her gloves beyond repair and her family was too poor to buy her new ones.  Yup, that was me in a nutshell.  And like Jo, I even had my own real life best friend who was a guy (Laurie) who most, if not all, assumed I'd marry.  I can't say I ever assumed I'd marry him.  But I will admit to serious confusion to watch Jo turn down Laurie's offer, let her sister marry him while she attempted to have a career and then marry an odd, intellectual foreigner of German descent (maybe Hungarian?) and then go on to live a happy life on straightened finances.  That confusion was completely cleared up by the end of my first date with Mr. P but again I am digressing.  Anyhoo, my fond memories of my girlhood attachment to Little Women caused me to not only marry a foreigner (trust me where I come from the midwest is considered foreign -look at Christopher Buckley's assessment of Sarah Palin if you require any more assistance), but to do two other things as well.  I attempted to read Pilgrim's Progress but quickly put it down as the naughty bits lacked the satisfying bang for your time that other writers like uhm...let's think a bit...oh, writers like Ian Fleming gives his readers and I attempted one of Louisa's favorite recipes; Apple Slump.

It was in the early years of our marriage when Mr. P and I were on one of our Fall holidays in Maine. I was thumbing through my Gourmet magazine in front of the fire and came across Louisa's recipe.  I've always had a very simple approach to cooking - keep it simple.  I do not rely on the latest in fancy ingredients, the latest in kitchen gadgets and gizmos as well as the latest in cooking trends. I leave all that to the transcendental cooks who are in search of emotional highs on their dinner plates rather than looking for them where they should be; in the privacy of their bedrooms with their God-given spouses but again I digress. Louisa's recipe is simple.  I made it that very evening to conclude a dinner of a roasted joint of meat.  Mr. P adored it.  And so did I. It's not fancy at all but it is satisfying.  The apples must be good ones and you must like the baking powder biscuits to enjoy it.  Apple Slump is basically tart apples sliced and scented with cinnamon and nutmeg, enhanced with dark brown sugar  and baked until soft with a fresh (and sweet)  baking powder biscuit dough topping.  

Some time after first making Apple Slump, I was home in Michigan watching the old C-Span morning round table show as I ironed Mr. P's shirts.  That day the guests were P. J. O'Rourke and Steve Forbes who was running Forbes at that time.  Understandably the two of them made me laugh very hard. But Steve Forbes did something more. Steve Forbes helped me to understand economics. I'll repeat that.  Steve Forbes helped me to understand economics.  And I was thankful.  So that very afternoon I sat down and wrote him (on my best stationary) at his office in New York City thanking him for making me laugh and a little smarter.  A few days later the FedEx guy rang my bell and when I opened the door handed me a package from Steve Forbes at his office in New York City.  Imagine my surprise when I opened the package to find a note (on his best stationary - the Queen of England and Steve must employ the same stationer) saying I had made his day and if that weren't enough, he had enclosed a silk scarf.  Yes, you read that right, a silk scarf.  Naturally that required a note and a present in return from me. So, I wrote him a thank you note and included Louisa's recipe for Apple Slump as I thought he might find it more to his tastes than the economic ones.

And imagine my surprise, when the FedEx guy rang my bell a few days later and handed me another package from Steve Forbes which had in it another note from him on his best stationary as well as another silk scarf.  

A short time after this, I told my father about my correspondence with Steve Forbes.  He listened my tale and when I concluded he said, "You actually sent a recipe to Steve Forbes?" 

Me:"Yes."  

My Dad: "For Apple Slump?"  

Me: "Dad, all day long he deals with economic slumps.  I thought he'd like a change."

 My  Dad: "You're a nut."  

A few years later, Steve Forbes was in town after his unsuccessful presidential primary run to help the local Republican candidates. A generous friend, who knew of my correspondence with Steve and sat on a prep school board with him, arranged for me to attend his luncheon.  I sat two seats away from him and do you know what? His suits are nice as his stationary. Gosh, was his ever a delight to behold.  (And I did behold it, particularly the shoulders, wow!)  Anyhoo, since it was a luncheon for Steve to press the flesh and I did not have the flesh the Republicans needed (money), we did not get much of a chance to press ours together.  But afterwards, when I downstairs and waiting for the valet to bring up my up car, I saw Steve making a beeline for me so I paused from taking, (considering my outfit) what could only be perceived as a most unlady-like jump into my Jeep, and he and I chatted.  We recalled our correspondence, and he laughed.  I expressed my sincere regret his run was not successful but hoped he would soldier on.  He said he would and he asked me for my new address.  I gave it to him and he tucked it into his breast pocket.  I did my most unlady-like jump into my Jeep and sped off wondering if the FedEx man would ringing my bell soon.  But no he didn't. And I forgot all about Steve Forbes...that is until about Christmas time.

 

At Christmas a very large and thick card with elegant handwriting addressed to me fell through mail slot.  I picked it up and opened it without looking at the return address.  I pulled out a card that had a professional Black&White photograph of a group of pretty young ladies all in evening gowns, smiling.  "How did I ever get on the trunk show list for Nieman Marcus?" I wondered as flipping the card open to read it.  Imagine my surprise when instead of reading of the private showing of Nieman Marcus's winter evening gowns, I read the Christmas greetings from the Forbes family. The young ladies pictured on the front were his daughters.  

And I had never contributed a dime to Steve's campaign.  

That is a major social accomplishment in today's world. I had just sent Steve a recipe.  So, if I am a nut like my Dad said I am, then I'm Steve Forbe's kind of nut.  Or Louisa May Alcott's Apple Slump recipe is really as good as I say it is.  Take your pick.

Apple Slump

For the apples

6 tart apples,

(I use MacIntosh)

peeled, cored, and sliced

1/2 cup  dark brown sugar

1/4 tsp nutmeg

1/4 tsp cinnamon

1/4 tsp salt

Topping

1 1/2 cups flour

2 tsp double-acting baking powder

1/2 tsp salt

1/2 cup sugar

1 egg, beaten

1/2 cup rich milk

1 stick unsalted butter, 

melted and cooled

Toss together the apples, sugar and spices and place in a buttered baking dish. Bake at 350F for 20 minutes.

While this is baking, prepare the topping, mix together the dry ingredients. In separate bowl, mix the egg, milk and butter and add this mixture to the dry ingredients, stirring till just combined. Spread the topping over apples and bake at 350F for an additional 35 minutes -until golden brown across or it shall be doughy in the middle. Serve alone, like Louisa would and I do.  Or with whipped cream or ice cream. Makes 8 generous servings.

Oh, and Mr. P and the children love leftover Apple Slump for breakfast.  They enjoyed it this morning.

Comments

[MCNS]

Outstanding!

By the way, there must be a separate story on how you burned the backside off your party crinoline. Do tell.

[The Maximum Leader]

Okay... I loved this tale. I voted for Steve Forbes a few times and would gladly do so again.

I'll have to have Mrs Villain give this recipe a try. She does all the desserts. I never try to make them up.

[Mrs. Peperium]

Elk, there are several different as well separate stories of my burning my backside...

Maxy. guess what? You can vote for Steve this year. Yes you can. He's one of McCain's financial advisors You can see his fingerprints all over McCain's health care plan as a variation on the one Steve put in place at Forbes back before Clinton took office. Steve has a very good piece today (from Forbes) over at realclearpolitics...

[The Maximum Leader]

I would prefer not to vote for a Forbes proxy - but the man himself...

[Mrs. Peperium]

Me too. But the reality of politics is that sometimes you have to go with the best you can get.

[Old Dominion Tory]

What a delightful story, Mrs. Peperium. Alas, the only time I ever have received any communication from Steve Forbes is when it is time for me to reup my subscription. Perhaps, if I enclosed my pasta sauce recipe in the same envelope as my check, we might become pen pals.