As the leaves turn from yellow to brown, the smell of homemade apple pie fills permeates my house. I love opening the door to the smell of butter, cinnamon, apple, and sugar. Apple pie lends a level of nostalgia to the holidays that makes the endeared Thanksgiving pumpkin pie jealous. I’ve heard what sound like fairy tales of my grandmother Ruth’s fried apple pies and her homemade apple pies. I never got to taste these fabled treats, but my mother has kept their memories alive. Unfortunately, she does not have the recipes to pass along – since no one expected her to die so young. The dollops of butter carefully placed on the top of this pie are an ode to the memory of my grandmother Ruth. According to my mother, I still haven’t perfected the amount of cinnamon.

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