Oh, I'll see if I can get my mother to bake an apple pie. She doesn't used canned apples. She slices up Jerusalem apples (the only kind that grow in the hot East County) really thin and leaves the skin on them. She dashes cinnamon all over them and adds a touch of sugar; otherwise the apples would be too tart to eat. She makes her crust from scratch. You've never tasted such flaky, light crust in your life. She says it's because she mixes the dough with her hands. All I know is that my crust never tastes as good as hers. My part, since I was very little, is to use a dull knife to cut cinnamon and brown sugar into a cube of butter until a fine sweet crumb topping results that can be piled onto the top of the pie until all the apples are hidden. While it cooks, the smell of apples and cinnamon fills the house and out the doors. You can see people walking by who stop and sniff the air because the odor is so aromatic. And when she takes the hot pie from the oven, it bubbles with the syrup that results from the juice and the sugars blending and cooking. Yet, when it cools, you can slice off a nice solid piece that holds together if you hold it in your hand. You don't use folks and plates with this pie unless you're indifferent to tradition or you insist on putting ice cream on it. I don't. I like to have it on a napkin in my hand and bite off pieces in my mouth and get messy with it as my mouth gets glazed with the juice and powdered with the crumb topping. It tastes tart and sweet at the same time and is just incredibly satisfying to chew nice and slow so that you get the flavor of the apples and cinnamon, and that taste lingers after you've swallowed and before you take the next bite. So, can I bring the pie????