Apples

I know, I know...I seriously need to find a more creative title for this post. But at least I'm actually posting, right??? Right?

Anyway, I hate apples. Mostly. The last time I sat down and ate a raw apple, I threw it up just seconds after I had swallowed the last bite. (Of course, I was pregnant, but I don't think that counts as much, because I only threw up twice throughout my whole pregnancy!) I will tell you one thing, throwing up freshly eaten apple hurts!

I don't like apple juice. I don't like apple sauce. I don't like apple flavored candy (except Sour Punch Straws, sour green apple...yum!). I don't like apple tarts. And I can only eat apple pie if I pick out all the chunks of apple.

Unless I made the apple pie with my dad, then I can apparently eat a whole dang pie all by myself!

A couple weeks ago, I was at my parents' house during the day to visit with my dad. After we chatted for a while, he asked how long I was able to stay. I told him that I had several hours, and then he announced he wanted to make a pie. (He knows that I am an awesome pie crust maker.) My little sister had gone apple picking with her friend about a month before and they still had a couple dozen small apples sitting on the counter. The apples were soft. They weren't rotting, but they were soft. My dad figured the only thing we could do with them, other than throw them away, was make pie! So, he washed, cut, peeled and sliced all the apples. I measured, mixed, cooled and rolled the pie crust. Then we put together brown sugar, white sugar, flour, cinnamon, butter and apples inside the crust and created a lattice top on the two pies with the leftover crust dough. Shortly after the pies came out of the oven, I needed to go pick up the hubby, so I took one and left.

That evening, I tried a piece of apple pie with a small scoop of vanilla ice cream. I was nervous. Afterall, I didn't want to run to the bathroom to upchuck the apples! I took a small bite. It was tasty. I took another bite. It was tasty, too. I was surprised that I was tolerating the apple. And I was surprised that the pie was the best I had ever had....and my dad and I didn't even know what we were doing! I called my parents right away to tell them the pie was a success. And to ask if they liked it, too....they hadn't even tried it yet. So I told them to stop waiting and try a piece of miracle pie!

Over the next week, I ate all but two pieces of the pie. (I left two for the husband. Oh, I did share bites with Bug, too). I didn't even vomit! In fact, I enjoyed every bite!