The following is a public service announcement:
Hey kids. Maybe that last post got you really hungry for baked apple chips. Maybe you dug into your produce drawer, pulled out some Empires, and are ready to make some magic in the kitchen.
During this process, you’ll need to slice your apples pretty thinly. That may require the use of a mandoline slicer. Your slicer should come with a food holder that functions as a barrier between your hand and the extremely sharp blade.
FOR THE LOVE OF ALL THAT IS HOLY, USE IT.
Or you may lop off the tip of your finger like I did. [insert eyeroll here]
If you make your husband use it, you need to as well.
Your digits will thank you.
That is all.
Except to tell you I’m okay. It wasn’t a huge deal, but it could have been.
Apples are one of the many fruits I can’t eat raw, so I no longer get to enjoy biting into a juicy New York State gem when it’s apple picking season in these parts, and that, friends, is a durn shame. Cuz there are some mighty fine apples grown in these parts.
Apples fall into the same category as stone fruits (and strangely, pears) that make my mouth itch if eaten fresh. If they’re canned or cooked I’m good to go. So applesauce is safe, as is anything packed in syrup, juice or in pie form (Mmm. Pie.). It’s something called pollen-food syndrome. Whatever. I’m just glad there’s a workaround for these, unlike the ridiculous list of foods I can’t consume due to other issues (I’m looking at you, The GERD).
Anyhoodles, I used to love eating dehydrated apples as a kid, and as much as I enjoyed those, trying these a few months back was life changing:
So I decided to look into making my own. Turns out it’s simple! Well, mostly.
First, there’s just one ingredient: Apples! So choose your favorite, flavorful variety (read: most anything except Red Delicious, which are anything but delicious. I call them erasers, because they taste like what I imagine gnawing on a pencil eraser would.) Wash them, dry them, core them, and tell them they are about to take yummy to a Whole. Nuvva. Level.
Second, you need to slice them about 1/8 of an inch thick (a mandolin slicer works really well for the job), and place them in a single layer on parchment paper in a 225 degree oven.
They bake for an hour and a half, flip like a bikini babe on the beach, then bake for another hour. Zero SPF needed here, but if you’re a fan of sprinkling, dust them with a kiss of cinnamon before baking. I prefer mine plain, because they’re scrumptch au naturale.
Full disclosure: there was a bit of trial and error involved.
Here is a before and after photo of my first attempt:
Not so great. Well, they started out great, but I kept returning them to the oven until they eventually morphed into crispy critters.
This was because I checked them and could NOT figure out why they weren’t crisping up in the oven. I didn’t realize they would firm up and get crispy once you took them out.
Behold the second attempt:
Delish! I did have to toss them back in one last time at about 200 degrees for a few minutes (after they cooled down and didn’t all seem firm) to get all of them to a crunchy state.
I think it depends on how thick your slices are and possibly the temperament of your oven or the phase of the moon, maybe. I dunno. Try it for yourself and let me know if you love them as much as I do!
When winter arrives in these parts, Rummy loves nothing better than a good romp in the snow. She gallops around the yard, kicking up plumes of swirling powder as her bucking hind quarters attempt to clear the drifts.
There are days, though, when the temperatures dip to the teens or below, that she’s all business in the out of doors. This morning was one of those days:
She got to the edge of the deck and decided, “Nah. I’mma just circle around a bit and go right here, mom. There’s snow here, so that’s cool, right?”
No. It is not cool, Rum. Not cool. *sigh*
Fancy meeting you here! [sweeps cobwebs off shoulder] Happy 2018! What have you been up to so far?
I’ve been hiding indoors from the cold and beating myself about the head and neck. Well, not literally. It’s more of an internal dialogue thrashing, really. The January doldrums certainly don’t help the negative mind chatter.
I did get a wonderful pep talk from a friend yesterday, though, and that helped to stop the negative tides from repeatedly pelting my over-feely feelers.
Then a Facebook friend posted a Little Things video on FB today, and it spoke a truth we probably all could stand to hear now and again. It was about the manner in which we speak to ourselves, and that most of what we say to ourselves we would never dream of saying to another human being. The woman asked some friends what kind of mean things they say to themselves. She then offered them a childhood photo of themselves and asked what they would say to her (or him). The words were much kinder.
The me (and you!) of today probably do deserve gentler words than we typically offer. I remember telling a boyfriend once, when he offered an unsolicited negative opinion on my clothing selection, that “I’m perfectly capable of tearing myself down, thanks. I don’t need your help.”
So say some nice things to yourself today and every day of the year. Compliment that outfit you put together or the fact that you did a load of wash. Go you!
I’ll get you started: You there! Nice person who noticed I’d posted something for the first time in ages and toddled on over here for a gander–I think you’re pretty awesome! And not just because you’re here reading this. Well, that helps, because it tells me what a kind, supportive person you are. But you’re also just plain groovy.
I went to update my neglected site the other day and discovered, much to my horror, that my blog was no longer. It had disappeared from the Interwebs. Gone!
They tried to warn me of the impending disaster, but I had also neglected the email address associated with that account. Whoops! That inbox is a bit of an electronic scary pile–you never know what bills might be hiding in there until you start digging. Not a great system.
After contacting my Web hosting provider, I discovered that I am not always the best at adulting. To say I’m disorganized is an understatement. Which I pretty much already knew, but I don’t always having such shining examples of why I should figure out how to get my shiz together. This one was a doozy.
Shout out to the nice folks at Bluehost, whom I highly recommend for any Web hosting needs you may have. The content was gone, but they were able to find some backups to regenerate the content on my site. After a small hiccup in the regeneration process, they were able to make it happen, and I’m elated to be back and in one piece!
So a few things. School is on again, and the kids have to be there over an hour earlier than in years past. It. Is. Exhausting. I’m a night owl, so this is a huge transition for me, too. So that’s going on this week.
In other exciting news, I got to see a blog buddy this week as she drove cross country with her hubby to their new home on the east coast. Yay! Meet ups are the best!
I’ve updated my latest ear worm and book over in the right column here. I’m also listening to my annual fluff read (audio book) of a Janet Evanovich “Stephanie Plum” novel, which are always fun.
On the boob tube, they finally loaded Blacklist on Netflix, so Mr. Wombat and I can watch this past season. We fell behind and had to jump ship, so we’ve been waiting for them to become available. It’s nearly time for Outlander and Poldark to begin, too, so THAT is a bunch of eye candy I’m looking forward to. Finally, if you’re not watching The Good Place, get on that STAT! It’s on Netflix and Hulu (and bootleg versions of it are on Youtube), so no excuses!