baby sweetie pies.

puff puff pastry.
i push and i pull and i roll and i chill.
i do all of that,
with some sugar folded into the mix,
just so i can combine creamchee' and butterish and flour,
with a splishsplash of vanilla, and a pinch of salt,
into the dough that makes the whole thing possible.
the whole thing?
yeah.
without that puff puff jauns,
i'd just have blops in a pan.
wait.
let me explain-
piecrust is the most important part.
it is, because it hold everything in place, and sense of togetherness is what
separates pie from pulpy poopies in a pile.
word up.
therefore,
i needed some expert activation to form the base for all my apple operations,
lest i start out with weak sauce and only worsen from there.
....and that's not cool, at all, y'all.
oh, yeah,
and i s'pose i'm really trying to tell you all about the apple pies i made,
only, they're open topped, like tarts,
except they're also baby-sized,
which i guess that makes them tartlets, doesn't it?.
just check the teleport:

NICE!
wouldja just look at those cute little things?!
so big, and so small, at the same time.
i used sliced and stewed granny smith greenskins,
because that's what was here in the house-
cooked down with dark brown sugar, and a pat of butts,
and dashed with cinnamon, nutmeg, allspice, and ginger, and salt,
plus a squeeze of lemon, and a little vanilla to mellow it all out.
uh-huh.
i got puff puff cups, i got squooooshy apple blops,
and then, i cooked the crap out of sugar and buttery pats,
and coated each and every one of those little delights in caramel.
yuuuuuup.
and that's not all.
how could it be, when too much is the right amount?
i added some toasted sliced almonds on top,
after i zapped the crap outta them-
with a little vanilla to make 'em sticky,
and also to let all the ginger and cinnamon toasting right alongside them
in that hot hot pan adhere here and there and everywhere,
which in every way improved the overall level of hottness
in each flat oval of nuttiness.
...and that's a real thing.
so,
i popped those almond sprankles on top,
and then i wondered how to keep them there securely.
it occurred to me that the answer was on there already.
mhmm.
y'know what THAT means?
it means more caramel.
because MORE is usually the right answer when treats are involved.
truth.
are they good?
yeah.
they're pretty good.
i like apple pie the best, anyway, so i'm biased.
eating lots of little ones,
as if i'm a giant, and the whole village was having a bake-off,
and i crashed it, crushed it,
and carried away all the winnings?
yes.
i can imagine that's what's happening,
even though everything else already really is.
*
the strangest lulls,
the longest gaps,
the hardest styles,
for miles and miles.
that's what's going on between being here at the Folk Life & Liberty Fortress,
and taking up space at the tattzappin' tattshack down the road.
i'm sticky, i'm icky, i'm stuck between an (albie) rock,
which is in itself a barbarian boulder-sized burden,
and a molto molto hard place and time,
there's only work,
and more work,
and then a little bit more work to do, always,
at all times, and in all places.
of course, there's no sleep sandwiched in there anywhere.
i'm wide awake,
it's morning,
and i'll be heavy-lidded and mud-lipped by mid-afternoon,
but i'll still have miles and hours
and so many stairs to climb before i'm finished.
it'll take more than tricks and treats to see me through to tomorrow,
but i'm still grateful for the time i have been given.
the only thing worse than not enough time,
and it being a hard time, at that?
uh-huh.
that's correct:
no time at all is waaaaaaay worse.
a bad day is better than no days at all,
and that's a fact;
never quiet, never soft.......