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‘Tis the season for sticky

October 27, 2011

Earlier this week The Pioneer Woman posted a recipe for caramel apples on her cooking blog.  Not just any caramel apples…salted caramel apples.  And from that moment on I have been chased by the thought that I must…have…salted…caramel…apples.  Or I shall die.

Sorry for the bit of melodrama, but that’s just how bad it’s been.

As much as I want these salted caramel apples, I recognize the cruelty of making them when the Sparkette has a mouthful of braces.  So I went off to Walmart hoping to find some Marzetti’s caramel apple dip.  They were out but had some other brand, so I took a leap and bought it.  Actually, I was so desperate that I probably would have settled for just about anything at the time.  I knew I had apples at home in the produce drawer, so I didn’t buy any of those.

Once home I sliced up a Granny Smith apple, warmed up a bit bucket of caramel dip, and sat down with my slices, the dipping bowl, and my little tub of kosher salt.  I love Granny Smith apples.  The sweet-tart thing does it for me.  But as I dipped my apple slice, sprinkled it with salt, and took a bite, I was profoundly disappointed.  The caramel was ok.  Not wonderful, but not bad, either.  The problem was the apple.  It was dreadfully dull and flavorless.  The peel tasted like paper as I chewed it.  The inside had little taste at all.  I ate it anyway because I wanted a salted caramel apple, dagnabit.  But it didn’t come close to scratching the itch.

This evening I decided to grab a Fuji apple instead of a Granny Smith.  Fujis are tasty if you like a sweet apple, and their texture is far better than, say, Red Delicious, which I’m pretty sure are strip-mined somewhere in Washington state.  If all apples tasted like Red Delicious, I’d not likely ever bother to eat another apple again.  So I went through my snack preparation with that Fuji.  I sat down, dipped, sprinkled, and bit.  Blah.  Even worse than the Granny Smith I’d had a few days earlier.  I munched about half of it, wondering if something was wrong with my taste buds, or if something was wrong with the apples.  And then I did what all red-blooded Americans do.

I complained about it on my Facebook status.

I was hitting the post button when the door opened and in walked Mr. Sparky with a bag from Publix.

“I got you some Granny Smith apples.”

The man can obviously read my mind.

I washed one up and cut into it.  Just cutting into it I could tell it was firmer and fresher than the apple I’d cut into earlier in the week.  I took a bite.  Oh, yeah…puckery sweet-tart.  Perfect for carrying caramel dip and kosher salt to my mouth.  Happy!

It was about that time that the Sparkette announced that she doesn’t like caramel.

I will be dipping apples next week.

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