Baked Apple

It must be autumn.  The variety of apples is amazing.  My neighbor brought me some King Apples yesterday.  I’ve not seen those since I lived in Portland.  It’s funny how some apples can’t be shipped and are only passed on with a secret coded hand shake.  I will be making Apple Crisp with part of the box, but I decided to try making Baked Apples with some.

Unfortunately, they did not photograph as well as I would have liked.  The problem is, they photographed as they looked.  What is it with me and brown food?  This is a recipe from Grandma O’s recipe box.  If she finagled the recipe just right, she could eat one, even with her diabetes.  Of course, she needed to use Saccharin.  This was the 50’s before cancer was a big deal.

Ingredients

4 large baking apples, such as Honeycrisp

4 tablespoons (1/2 stick) butter, softened

1/2 cup brown sugar

1/2 cup oatmeal

3/4 teaspoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

  1. Preheat the oven to 375 degrees F.
  2. Wash and core apples, leaving enough of the core at the base of the apple to contain the filling.
  3. Combine the butter, brown sugar, cinnamon and in a small bowl. Roll log shapes of the mixture and press enough into each apple to fill the core.
  4. Fill a 2-quart baking dish with enough to cover the bottom. Place the apples upright in the dish. Bake until the apples are soft and the filling is browned, 1 hour.
* From the Recipe Box:
 
It’s just G and I living at the cabin, so I only baked 2 apples in a bread pan.  I ordered an apple corer, but I wasn’t impressed with the end result.  I guess I don’t have the hand strength to control the depth of the core.
 
Grrrr, more brown food.  G put so much whip cream on it, you couldn’t see the apple.  I’m not a major whip cream fan so mine ended up naked and brown.  The flavor was good, but I’ve got to say, it’s a wee bit on the ugly side.
 
If you’re trying to identify everything in the picture, good luck.
 
and remember:   Teddy Roosevelt said it best:  Complaining about a problem without proposing a solution is called whining.   Big kiss, Lynn

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