I am in the perfect marriage.
I love to bake. My husband loves to eat what I bake.
You can see how, mathematically, that works out pretty well for me.
So with two apple trees in the backyard heavy with fruit (well, all the fruit sort of dropped off one of the trees last night, so maybe it's just one treeful now), I've got all sorts of applicious plans.
A couple weekends ago, it was a perfect Dutch Apple Pie.
Last weekend, it was Apple Crisp.
I had big plans for this Apple Crisp. I'd been thinking about it all week, saving it as a weekend project even though apples were just flying off the tree. I made sure I had quick-cooking oats and brown sugar.
So on Saturday, I was set. I made my Apple Crisp in the afternoon, and set it next to the Costco take-and-bake pizza that would be dinner, so Matt would see what an awesome wife he has. After the pizza was finished cooking, I popped the Crisp in the oven. We even found some vanilla ice cream in the freezer to serve with it.
Oooh, I waited. Apple Crisp ala mode.
I served Matt a bowlful, and then settled in to my own delicious dessert. And after two bites, I remembered something utterly and tragically dismaying.
I really don't like Apple Crisp.
How could I have forgotten! There's something about the oatmeal-cookie-over-apple-pie dessert combo that makes me instantly, achingly full and regretful of every bite I took.
I walked out to the living room and sadly handed my bowl to Matt, who had already finished his.
And I have been walking around, bitterly disappointed, ever since. I'm still working on how it's possible that I'm over 30 years old, and still can't keep my food preferences straight.
Most of all, though ... I was
really looking forward to that Apple Crisp!