One year
A recipe, a remembrance, and gratitude
This week marks the one-year anniversary of the release of Enemies in the Orchard.
I’m so grateful for each reader, and especially for those who have reached out to say the story meant something to them. As an anniversary gift, I’ve heard from a handful of teachers over the last few days who have told me about reading excerpts aloud in class or about students borrowing a copy from their libraries.
More than book sales or marketing statistics, I love the image of the book in the hands of a reader. And as an educator, nothing beats knowing the story comes alive inside of classrooms.
When I worked on the book’s manuscript, I hoped a teacher’s guide with family favorite apple recipes, would be included in the back of the book. The teacher’s guide was made available online instead, but since it's apple season, and I just made my first apple crisp of the season, it seems like a good excuse to share my recipe here. (Disclaimer: I’m more of an estimator than a measurer, but I don’t think you can mess up an apple crisp if you use fresh, locally-grown apples!)
Dana’s Apple Crisp
Ingredients:
Apple Mixture:
6-7 apples
1/3 cup white sugar
1/4 cup flour
2 t. cinnamon
Topping:
1/2 cup flour
2/3 cup oats
2/3 cup brown sugar
(optional) 1/3 cup pecans, whole or chopped
1 stick (1/2 cup) butter
pinch of salt
Preheat your oven to 350 degrees. Peel and slice the apples. (Or don’t — leaving the skins on can add color and texture. And it’s a lot faster.) I like to mix varieties when I bake, but Cortlands are my favorite early-season baking apple. Later in the fall, you might use Jonathans, Braeburns, Galas, or Northern Spies. Drop apples directly into your greased baking dish or pie pan and toss with 1/3 c. white sugar and 1/4 cup flour. Sprinkle in about 2 T. cinnamon.
In a small bowl, combine 1/2 cup flour, 2/3 cup brown sugar, and 2/3 cup oats. Add pecans, if you’d like. You can also skip the oats if you prefer — my grandma did. (And she probably added extra butter.) Cut in one stick of diced cold butter. Add a pinch of salt, especially if your butter is unsalted. Mix with a fork until the butter is distributed and you have pea-sized crumbs. Pour the crumble on top of the apple mixture. If it seems like you have too much topping, you don’t. No one ever complains about too much crunchy topping.
Top the apples with the topping and bake for 50 minutes. Serve with ice cream; Butter Pecan is our family favorite. According to my husband, it’s just as good, if not better, warmed up the next day.
In Memory
In my book’s acknowledgments, I thanked Elizabeth Felicetti: “my writing soulmate, who checks in on me daily and helps me make my writing a priority. I am spoiled by her consistency, ruthless encouragement, and sharp humor.”
Elizabeth died a few weeks ago, and I miss her terribly. I wish we could be celebrating this year anniversary—and I wish she were sending me drafts of the new books she was working on.
I wrote about Elizabeth on the Reformed Journal blog recently. It’s strange sending words out into the world without having her read them first. She would have been first to share this newsletter.
Beginning Again
My husband asked me tonight how I feel one year after my first book’s release. Publishing is an exciting, but strange journey, and it’s easy to be tossed about by emotions. I try to be intentional about turning my mind from the anxiety, anticipation, and apprehension of reviews, ratings, and sales reports to dwell instead on the quiet and more tender gifts—a thoughtful question at a book club, a kind note from a reader, a heartfelt comment from a stranger on GoodReads.
In my yellowed and well-worn copy of Bird by Bird: Instructions on Writing and Life Anne Lamott reminds me:
I just try to warn people who hope to get published that publication is not all it is cracked up to be. But writing is. Writing has so much to give, so much to teach, so many surprises. That thing you had to force yourself to do—the actual act of writing—turns out to be the best part. It’s like discovering that while you thought you needed the tea ceremony for the caffeine, what you really needed was the tea ceremony. The act of writing turns out to be its own reward.
So, at the year mark, I’m celebrating not only the gifts that come from having written but from the act of writing itself. I’m grateful that I get to play with words. That the 26 letters of the alphabet provide endless opportunities for us to discover, delve, and dig. I’m grateful for stories that shake me. I’m grateful for the books that line my shelves, that fill my bed stand, and tower on my to-read pile. I’m grateful for words.
Here’s to the next chapter.
Dana
