Today I found myself making a dessert I have made many times, starting in high school. It's a delicious recipe for Sour Cream Apple Bars. The first couple times I made the recipe, I did the math wrong and doubled the butter. Once my mistake was discovered, everyone decided they liked it that way better. So I guess it's kind of my recipe now. I was mindlessly going through the motions of mixing the batter together. Things started to get interesting when I started cutting the apples.

The recipe called for "finely chopped" apples. So I started cutting the apples in a way that I was quite familiar with - slice the apple long ways, turn them on their side and slice them long ways three or four more times, then chop them down the length. This leaves you with teeny-tiny little apple pieces. I cut up half an apple before I realized what I was doing. I was following the silly little diagram from camp.

See, I worked in a camp kitchen for two years. We had this amazing recipe for tuna salad that called for finely chopped apples and celery. The head cook had drawn out diagrams of how she wanted them chopped. It took forever. It was quite the day we decided to do things our way and use the food processor. We got a very pointed look and a good talking to when we were discovered! Remembering this made me smile. We were always trying to get away with things and push the limits that year. Brown sugar, anyone?

I then remembered cutting up forty apples or so for lunch at camp that same year. I actually enjoyed the challenge of forty green apples bobbing along in a sink and a limited amount of time to get them all cut into eighths (and peanut butter scooped into souffle cups). It made me think of the time that Aaron was cutting apples with me and somehow the knife slipped and, whoo, there was a lot of blood! It seriously squirted over five feet, probably closer to ten. I have never seen blood squirt that far. I found the whole thing rather hilarious, other than the fact that Aaron was hurt. Thankfully, his finger recovered and there really wasn't any blood on the apples.

My thoughts turned to the apple orchard where we bought the apples. We've been going there since I was in high school. I remembered all the amazing caramel apples we've eaten from there and how much I love going to the orchard. I thought of the Highland Festival we went to one year and all the cool displays and shops that were set up for that weekend.

A memory of standing in the SEND House kitchen came to me. I was standing in front of the built in trash can, eating apple peels. I don't really remember who was with me, but I'm guessing Amanda was there, because I highly doubt I would have started eating apple peels on my own volition. However, now I eat the peels sometimes when I peel an apple. It's quite tasty.

I thought of Kenya (it always seems to come back to Kenya anymore). I remembered how amazing the apples tasted when I splurged those two times and bought them. Mmmm. Ah, crisp, amazing flavor. They were small, but they were so delicious. They reminded me of home and of my favorite time of year.

So many memories, over so many years - all brought to mind by cutting up an apple.