An Ode to Apples

Nothing screams "Autumn" like a bucolic day of picking apples in the countryside. This was an activity that I did pretty much every year growing up...our favorite place to go was an orchard owned by an order of somber but well-fed monks. The orchard was on a rolling hillside with mountain views (if only the gray Maine weather would warm up enough for the fog to burn off).



It had been a few years since I've been able to do this, and it was love at first bite once again. Apples are always my favorite fruits: they are usually consistently good year after year. I love the fleeting sweetness of good plums, peaches, cherries, and berries but I feel like apples will rarely let me down. A decent apple is usually better eating than a rock-hard peach or pucker-inducing plum. Their consistency is comforting to me.

Also, you can't make a bong out of a peach. It just doesn't work.



A trip to Rose Hill Farm in Duchess county fit the apple-picking bill nicely.

















While it was late in the season for apples, and many of the trees were picked bare, what was left were these enormous apples high on the tree. It took some work to get to them, but you could make a pie with two of them. I munched on one for 20 minutes before my jaw started aching and I had to give up without making much of a dent in it.



Once I get over eating as many fresh apples as I can, I move on to the kitchen. Nothing smells better than apples bubbling away in the oven, or stewed on the stovetop.

Want a recipe? I made these apple muffins over the weekend and they were just fabulous. It's my own; I based it on my Grandmother's blueberry muffin recipe and took it from there.

2 cups all-purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flower (because, um, it's healthier than white and a small amount usually doesn't effect the texture too much. You can replace it with 100% white, or use cornflour or whatever)
3/4 cup sugar (I got creative and used a bit of brown and white...honey would also be good)
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
6 tablespoons unsalted butter, melted and cooled
2 large eggs
3/4 cup milk
Grated zest and juice of 1 lemon
1 tablespoons vanilla
2 1/2 cups peeled, cored and diced apples (2 giant ones, or 3 or 4 smaller apples)

Crumble topping:
1/4 c oatmeal
1/4 c cold butter
1/4 c flour
1/4 c brown sugar

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees.

Line 12 large muffin cups with paper liners and spray the top part of the pan lightly with vegetable oil spray. (I had a bit more batter and made a little apple cake as well.)

Combine or sift together the flour, sugar, baking powder, and salt in a large bowl.
Whisk together the melted butter, eggs, milk, vanilla, lemon zest, and lemon juice in a separate bowl until well combined.

Add the egg mixture to the flour mixture and stir just until the dry ingredients are moist and blended. Do not over mix. Fold in the diced apple.

Make the crumble: Cut the butter into chunks and crumble with the oats, flour, and brown sugar until crumbs form.

Scoop the batter into the prepared muffin pan with a large ice cream scoop (1/3-cup scoop). The batter will come to the top of the paper liner or pan. Top with a bit of the crumble.

Bake 25 to 30 minutes, until lightly golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the center of a muffin comes out clean.

Remove from the oven and cool for 5 minutes. Turn the muffins out of the pan and serve immediately.

Cows, Chickens, Pigs and the 'Gunks

We spent a fun day in the Shawgunk Mountains outside of New Paltz. The 'Gunks are a huge draw for rock climbers from all over the East Coast, but there is great hiking as well.

It was so hot and hazy, I couldn't get a clear picture of the cliffs.



They are really stunning- the landscape goes from rolling hills to dramatic white cliff faces.

We happened upon a county fair. I couldn't resist going in to see the livestock.



It was so hot out.





Out of all the animals, the goats seemed the least phased about the heat.









This cow was named Bertha. She was enormous- by far the biggest cow there.



She was super sweet and gentle though. I saw more children run up behind her and grab her tail (WTF, bad parenting skills!) and she barely flinched.









There were piglet races. They were motivated purely by Oreo cookies.





This Mule was really sweet- she really loved her ears scratched. I was happy to oblige.







Some locals told us about a swimming hole nearby called Spit Rock on the Mohonk preserve.



It was a really unique place. I love finding a good swimming hole. I don't think I've ever found one like this in New York state, and it wasn't labeled on maps or anything. New Hampshire and Vermont really has a good deal of quality ones. Western Maine is full of them, including one where you can slide down a 12 foot waterfall into the freezing cold pool below. That one is always a fun bravery test.



The pool was very cool and dark and deep, and you swam right up to the waterfall and let it power wash you.



It's the perfect anecdote to a sticky day.

Back from alpaca la-la land

I'm back from vacation, swamped with catch-up work and other nonsense, and desperately trying to cling to my vacation aura.

Two weeks is a long time to be gone (not long enough?) and I did have quite a few adventures while I away. The weather was gorgeous pretty much the entire time- sunny warm days and coll fall-ish nights. Perfect for getting back into warm knitting projects and fondle fiber animals.



Have you ever seen anything more awesome in your life? I have a weird urge to try to bite it. It's that cute.

These are cria Huacaya alpacas at Winters Gone Farm in Wiscasset, Maine. I do love the mid-coast area, and bonus points that this wonderful little farm is there. I would highly recommend stopping by if you are anywhere near them.



Judi, the owner, has a delightful little store on the premise. Most of it was Peruvian made alpaca coats, sweaters, socks, hats, and gloves. All very nice, but that wasn't what I was after. She also had yarn spun from her herd of alpacas, which seemed nice. And yes, she had roving.



That's four ounces of light fawn roving, amazingly soft and fluffy and just waiting to be spun up. Sadly, we arrived on motorcycle and it had to be packed down to nothing in order to make the journey off the farm. It's fluffed back up nicely and seems to have fully recovered.

The farm was beautiful- they encourage you to walk around and pack a picnic. They have a trail that goes around the pastures in the woods, a pond, a little bird sanctuary and lots of places to sit and relax and watch the exciting alpaca action.



The farm is actually very close to Halcyon Yarns in Bath. We passed it right by- there's no way I could go there and not try to squeeze something else on the bike. Trying to bungee cord a loom onto the back would have been a tad awkward.