Apple Crisp

Apple crisp is not a dessert, it's a way of life. It's a necessary evil of multiple toddlers. There is really nothing you can do about it except committing to take one for the team and eat up. At the end of a good apple day we have a variety of pre-chewed dessert fodder. I've never been one to be squeamish about eating after my children especially when their leftovers are baked in sugar. (Don't worry, I've never served pre-chewed apple crisp to company.)

My recipe is a culmination of months of crisping apples in a balance of speed and taste. Enjoy!

     Using a 2-quart glass casserole dish that has been generously sprayed, add:
          cut and peeled apples until just over half full
          2 small handfuls flour
          1-2 handfuls sugar (depending of desired sweetness)
          drizzling of lemon juice
          1 small pile of cinnamon
          optional sprinkling of ground cloves, allspice, and nutmeg
     Mix until apples are thoroughly coated and ingredients combined.
     In a separate bowl, combine:
          roughly half a stick of partially melted margarine
          2 handfuls brown sugar
          4-5 handfuls quick oats
     Sprinkle over apple layer. Bake between 350-400 degrees, depending on hunger levels, until your house smells like Christmas.

Playing With Food

Everyone always says not to play with your food, which is a great rule in theory. In practice it sometimes leaves much to be desired by a two-year-old. My pickiest eater, little Cami, settled on salami for the mainstay of her food supply this week. That, along with her newly discovered power over refrigerator doors, has provided under-supervised salami time. During one of these wonderful moments of exploration, as I'm rocking two babies and an offended  toddler to sleep, in walks Cami. She had not only stripped down to her diaper in a burst of toddler rebellion, but she had adhered salami down her chest and stomach using its own juices. She stood there proudly, looking very much like a life-sized gingerbread girl with little salami buttons. Needless to say she knows how far I can reach with three kids in my lap, which isn't very far, and she pranced around keeping me like a dog at the end of a tether. Eventually she loses interest and eats her warm, shiny, oily meat buttons, but really that's just a consequence of the worlds best game of dress up.