My brother brought baked stuffed apples to our Thanksgiving feast. The mixture of flavors and textures made them absolutely delicious. He served them as a side dish, but they could also be served as dessert.
The recipe came from a Christmas magazine put out by Hy-Vee, an Iowa-based grocery store chain. I can hardly wait to make them. The apples were plenty sweet, so I’ll cut the amount of sugar in the syrup by a substantial amount.
Baked Stuffed Apples
2/3 cups water
2/3 cup sugar (I will cut this to 1/4 cup)
9 tablespoons butter or margarine
3/4 teaspoon vanilla
1/2 cup dried cranberries
1/2 cup pecans, chopped
6 tablespoons brown sugar
1/2 teaspoon cinnamon
6 apples (Gala, Rome Beauty, Jonagold, or Granny Smith)
Heat oven to 350° and grease the bottom of a 9 x 13 baking dish. Combine water, sugar, and 3 tablespoons butter or margarine. Heat and stir until sugar dissolves and syrup comes to a boil. Add vanilla and set aside.
In a medium bowl, combine cranberries, pecans, brown sugar, and cinnamon. Cut in 6 tablespoons butter or margarine until combined. Set aside.
Cut apples in half across the equator. Cut out core. Stuff apples with cranberry filling, packing tightly and mounding on top. Place apples in baking dish. Pour syrup around apples. Cover with foil and bake for 25 minutes, Remove foil and bake 15 minutes more. Don’t overbake!
This is the last blog about last week’s writing conference. I promise. But before I close the book on the subject, please scrutinize the photo above and notice my presence on a conference panel of real, live, published, legitimate authors. As you can see, they even let me hold the mike and talk.
Of course, there’s a reason why everyone’s laughing. Before I answered the first question, I stopped the proceedings and asked a member of the audience to take a picture of the panel. I needed proof for my sibs that I was not telling tales again.
See, when we were kids, I lived in my own little world. My mother indulgently called my propensity for story telling “an active imagination.” My dad rolled his eyes. My creativity-impaired sibs, called it lying. Boy am I glad they weren’t in kindergarten with me. They might not have appreciated the stories I invented and told about them during show-and-tell. I thought of it as my personal comedy gig which grew more inventive and outrageous as the weeks rolled by.
So maybe they do have a reason to doubt my recent speaking and writing claims. And maybe I do have a reason to gather evidence to dispel their doubts. Anyway, I’m thankful that Shelly Beach humored my request instead of kicking me off the panel. Of course, after pulling a stunt like that, she may never invite me back, which is another reason I’m tickled to have this picture. It my most shiningest moment of fame since kindergarten – and it may be my last.