CROMBLES

apple pie?
dope.
apple crumble?
dope.
cinnamon buns?
dope.
pastry?
dope.
all of that all at once?
expert.
look:

this goes to eleven, for sure.
and how are you supposed to eat it correctly?
warm, with a scoop, neighbors.

duh.
c'mon.
you know there's protocol for this sort of thing.
i made my pastry recipe.
i rolled it and filled it with a pasty tasty paste of blended brown sugar,
and vegan butter, and vanilla, and cinnamon, and ginger, and nutmeg.
then i rolled it and re-refrigerated it while i stewed up all the gala apples.
i knew these'd be good because they had long stems,
and that looks sexy.
and i know what looks sexy.
pretty much, if it's got pale flesh and deep red accents,
and is hella juicy and crisp?
well, am i talking about a lady, or a fruit, or both?
ANYway-
i stewed up eight of those apples with a splash of lemon,
a punch of brown sugar,
a glug of vanilla,
a bigger glug of real new hampshire maple syrup,
a pinch of salt,
and cinnamon and nutmeg and allspice and ginger,
until they were soft and thiccc.
with a handful of oats on the bottom of the pan,
and all those apples over that,
and slices of my cinnamon pastry log lookin' fire af,
and acorn pastry bits to highlight the autumnal essence......
well,
at 375 fahrenheit degrees, for thirty five minutes,
y'boi made the absolute best apple excellence in recent memory.

and real talk,  i already swallowed almost all of it.
yeah.
too much is the right amount,
and i'm over here keeping all the doctors away with all these apples, son.
i know i'm not writing out recipes.
ain't nobody using this as a cookbook.
i feel like that's okay.
i'm just journaling and recording events for posterity-
real life documentarianism is subjective,
but also, introspective.
i know when i think back on this amazing apple swirl-up,
i'll remember about all the autobiographical backstory
that led to it's creation.
there's a kind of comfort in the prompts that produce spirit and memory.
that's partly why i ever even started writing here;
never quiet, never soft.....