I was told there would be punch and pie.

Put your hands together for people that bake.

I love stock photography.
 Everyone got the memo on cheering except for the lady on the far left in dark gray.
That's a tentative smile at best, she's not even sure why she's here.

Right now, give bakers a round of applause, because we take our dessert making friends and pastry chefs all over the world for granted. Really guys, baking is hard. Once upon a time, I spent many stressful years in chemistry labs. I remember my organic chemistry professor instructing our class to make a substance called Methyl Red, so you can imagine the stuff titrating into my beaker was required to be... the color of RED. He circled the room to see a whole lot of people producing that exact solution. When he got to my station, this hilarious character said, "So, are we distilling milk?"... and I was given an F for that lab. F, not for Fantastic.  As it turns out baking, like chemistry, is actually science, and I'm not sure I passed it last night in my attempt to make my first apple pie.... ever. You can see for yourself below:

I want to say I followed this recipe closely,  Old Fashioned Gluten-Free Apple Pie, like a good student. It sort of started out that way...

Thinly sliced Granny Smiths, put some sugar on it with additional spices and such.

I'd had a glass of wine after this was done, feeling 1/2 way to freedom and whatnot. Sliding into my second glass of wine, I started making the dough. 

I'm finishing that second glass now, and note the beginnings of a Snowpocalypse. 

I decided the reason the dough wasn't going so smoothly <bah dumh bum!> is related to the fact that  my arms are killing me from using an old ass electric mixer that reeks of an electrical fire when it gets rocking along at speed 2... so I take out my birthday caramel vodka from my fabulous neighbors and sip on that:

Well now, I'm definitely feeling fine. A little too fine. I've gone over the OBL (Optimum Buzz Line)
Now there's more shit everywhere and the Hanky dog is hunting butter clumps on floor.
 I soldier on.

Suddenly, a miracle! What appears to be a formed ball of dough! 

But you know me, there's always a hitch in the giddy up.

Top: Hmm. Sorta dry looking ball there
Doh! I forgot an egg. Too late?
Bottom Left: Nope I'm adding it.
Bottom Right: Atrocious sticky hand selfie taken by aggressively punching the camera with my nose.
I'd make an excellent seal.

Whatever, it worked.
Captain Hindsight to the rescue.

Top Left: Tah Dah. Some crust!
Top Right: It appears I've used all the lid dough on one pie. Is this other one a crumble now?
I haphazardly tossed dough pieces at it and thought it was artistic.
Bottom: Oh damn. That's a lot of dough.

And that's exactly what the gym manager said today when he saw me carry a few pieces into the place to give to a friend. 

"Damn, that's a lot of dough." 

I really couldn't disagree. It's 27% apples and crust for days. 

And this is why I can't express with enough gratitude the gift of baking, which belongs to a select few. Or anyone who isn't blasted drunk in their kitchen manhandling the original GE 1960's hand mixer. <WHHIIIIRRRRRRRRRRR>.

-Your going to need a gallon of ice cream to choke that crust down,

Judy