When daisies pied, and violets blue, etc.

Well, this morning the Montauk daisies budded up to almost opening, and there are tiny pies happening, so Shakespeare described my kitchen this morning.  

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Yes, I know his pied daisies meant something different, but I can take poetic license, too, if he can.

Anyway, here's the making of the tiny apple pies.  
 

and at the same time a recipe of bread, wheat and white, rising.

They'll all bake later today, just heat the oven once.  That cloth is in fact clean from the laundry, though it looks a bit weary.  You know how the cookbooks tell you to use a CLEAN cloth, as if you were going to throw the dog's blanket over your bread.

The filling for the pies is: Staycrisp, I think that's the name, apples from the farm, two, sliced up on the slicing side of the grater.  I never used that before, always looked at it wondering what it's for, then realized, oh, cheese, apples, slicing, maybe.  Works fine.

That's macerating with sugar and molasses (equivalent of brown sugar which I don't have in the house) and a big spoonful of cornstarch.  I may add in a bit of cinnamon, fresh ground.

And the wonton wrappers are thawing ready for use.  I've made half moon pies in the past, but this time maybe I'll make round ones, full moons, nice single serve equivalent.  There will be a follow up if this works out.


Speaking of which, last Friday night's dinner with Handsome Son worked out a bit too successfully.  

 I used the ravioli from the freezer, all of them, and a big red sauce with farm tomatoes, homemade pesto and hot Italian sausage. Parmigian to shake over, and hot peppers.  Incidentally, the thawed ravioli tend to stick together, but they separate fine in the boiling water, so you can just put a clump of three or four in at once, and it works.

It entirely filled a great big earthenware serving bowl, the one you see on the left with the cooked ravioli waiting for the sausage and sauce, and I thought I was set up for the week in addition to a generous dinner for Son.  Famous last words.  He enjoyed it to the point where I have eked out two more small dinners for me.  And this is a slim guy.

We had the shortbread for dessert, and he said, after tackling several of them, did you make these? Gosh, they're as good as from the shop.  I choose to believe he means from a high end bakery, rather than the supermarket shelf...