Apple Pie Memories

The apple is one of the most versatile fruits.  You can make sauce, cobblers, crisps, stuffed, baked, fried, fritters, and the list goes on and on.  My favorite has always been apple pie.  There is something so wonderful about the smell of apple pie baking in the oven that reminds me of family. 

My mother would bake her pies the day before Thanksgiving.   I had the job of peeling the apples.  She made peeling the apples into a contest. The object of the game was to try to peel the apple from the stem to the blossom without breaking the peel.  If you do this carefully, the peel ends up being several feet long.  My mother would usually win, but she would just smile at me and say: "try again, don’t give up." 

After the apples were peeled, she would take one and cut it in half.  Then, she would have me count the seeds.  This was one of the most important parts of our baking; for she would then tell me a poem that she learned in her childhood. (My mother always wrote things down in notebooks): It went like this:

2 seeds:  You will be married early
3 seeds:  You will inherit a legacy
4 seeds:  You are going to have great wealth
5 seeds:  You are going to take a sea voyage
6 seeds:  You are going to win great fame
7 seeds:  You will get your fondest wish

I don’t remember how many seeds I counted over the years as a child.   I believe it must have been seven, for I have received my fondest wishes as an adult.  I’ve been able to peel apples with my own daughters, passing on the tradition.  Life has gone full circle; my mother is gone and my daughters have grown.  But the smell of apple pie baking in the oven always reminds me of home.