Hands wrinkled from years and years of life and experience gently wash this year’s harvest of apples. Next these hardworking hands pulled out an apple corer from an old wooden drawer, and with great care began removing the cores from the pile of red delicious apples.
“Grandma, what are you making?” a small girl, barely tall enough to see over the granite countertops, asked.
“I’m making baked apples, dear,” She replied with a tender smile. ” Do you want to watch?”
” Oh, yes please, grandma! I always love how it smells when you cook!” Annie exclaimed she bounced up and down.
“Here’s a chair for you to stand on, my little pumpkin.” Grandma said as she picked up an old wooden chair and set it in front of the counter.
Little Annie stood on her chair, watching her silver haired grandmother as she bustled around the kitchen, preparing the filling for her much prized baked apples. Once she had gathered all her ingredients she began dumping a little of this and a little of that into a saucepan. As her tapioca pudding mixture began to heat up, she mixed it vigorously with a whisk to keep it from burning. While the mixture bubbled, the warm homey smell of cinnamon and brown sugar began to fill the house. Annie breathed in deeply enjoying the comforting scent of grandma’s.
“Do you want to help me fill the apples?” Grandma asked as she handed a spoon to Annie.
Annie nodded vigorously, sending her brown curls bouncing. Grandmother and grandaughter worked together in the kitchen, filling the center of the apples with the tapioca mixture. Once that step was finished, Grandma and Annie added an oatmeal crisp topping they had mixed up together, to the center and top of the apples. When that was done, the apples were placed carefully in the oven and left to bake. While they baked, Grandma and Annie sat at the kitchen table, sipping hot apple cider and talking about the things grandmother and granddaughter do. As Annie chatted with her grandmother, sipped her cider, and smelled the warm, sweet smell of apples and cinnamon; she couldn’t help but smile. There was nothing as comforting and happy as grandma’s house. She just knew if everyone had a grandma like hers the world would be a better and happier place.
The timer on the oven finally let out its high pitched warning that time was up. Grandma rose from her chair and grabbed an oven mitt. She opened the oven and peered inside. The apple skins had began to split, and the filling was bubbling, a sure sign they were done. She pulled them out of the oven and set them on the counter to cool a bit. While she waited, she pulled some vanilla ice cream from the freezer and grabbed a couple of bowls out of the cabinet. After the apples had cooled off a little, she placed an apple for each of them into the bowls. She then put a scoop of vanilla ice cream on top, and set the bowls on the table. Once again they sat at the table chattering away. As Annie savored her baked apple, she was even more convinced that Grandma’s had to be the happiest place on earth.