It's weird making something that you're absolutely sure you're going to dislike.
I hate apples. Maybe it's because a poisoned apple almost murdered my favorite princess. Maybe it's because one of my most hilariously embarrassing childhood memories involves urine getting confused for apple juice. Maybe it's as simple as they don't taste good with a weirdly soft yet crisp texture that I don't find appetizing.
My entire life, whenever I revealed to someone how much I dislike apples, they were confident that they would be able to convert me. They insisted that I was eating the wrong type of apple or preparing it incorrectly. Each time, this person failed miserably. It became almost like a game to me, humorously watching the shock and disappointment on their faces when I told them of their failure. The only person who ever came close was Jacqueline Cutler, the journalist I interned for in college, who introduced me to the Asian apple pear. However, those are considered more pears than apples, so it doesn't count.
George is the latest player in my secret apple game. Knowing each other for over a decade, this isn't his first time playing, but he felt confident. In our discussion about what new thing to cook for this month, apple pie came up. George was convinced that my distaste for apples would go away if I took the time to make the pie myself. I accepted the challenge.
It is hard to make something when you have no idea what it's supposed to taste like, so, during my mom's birthday dinner, I tried a bite of the apple pie from the diner we were at. It was gross.
To make the entire experience more favorable, George and I were going to go apple picking at a nearby farm and then make the pie. Initially, I would buy a premade pie crust and make the filling at home. However, yet another rainy weekend prevented us from our fun date, so I decided to make the crust after all.
I followed a recipe that called for a food processor, but I was confident that our small Nutri Bullet blender would suffice. I was wrong. The container was not nearly big enough and didn't have the right shape to mix the dough correctly. A quick Google search told me that I could use a fork and my hands, and I tried it, but it felt like it was going too slow, so I decided to use a potato masher in the placement of the fork. It was useless. Eventually, I turned to the handheld mixer, and that worked best. After many failed attempts at troubleshooting, I managed to make something that resembled a dough. I wrapped it up and put it in the fridge for an hour.
Later, I peeled and sliced seven apples. Then, I cooked the sugar caramel sauce thing the recipe called for, poured it over the apples, and let them soak a bit.
It came time to drape the dough over the pie pan, and it was a struggle. The dough was so dry and crumbly that I couldn't roll it out at all. Google helped again, telling me to add drops of water to make the dough usable, but then it became somewhat sticky. I don't know how, but after over an hour of fumbling with the dough, I managed to drape it over the pie pan, add the filling, and create the classic lattice pattern. It wasn't the prettiest pie, but it wasn't the ugliest pie either.
After cooking for an hour and cooling for another, it was finally time to try it. Nope. Not for me. George and my dad thought it was good, but the bottom dough was undercooked. My mom liked it. My sister thought, "The bottom is too doughy, the apples were too soft, there was not enough sauce, the top dough was too crispy, but it was pretty."
The reviews were mixed, but two things are certain. George lost the game, and I still hate apples.