I started my day very early on the patio. Just me, Sadie (dog) and my coffee. It's a nice break from when I sit at the kitchen table and Pippin (cat; aka Sir Pipster, Pippadew, Pip-a-dee-do-dah, Pipadoodle, etc.) wants to share my coffee. By dipping has paws in my mug. I know where those paws have been.
And then the hawk came. And dove into the last of the Snow on the Mountain. Scurrying. Rodent-hunting. The hawk flew over me creating a ruckus and a windstorm. I went inside. And surprise - no Pippin. I worry because he's lost a few of his 9 lives already and is always by my side in the a.m. I go cat-hunting. And in the back of the basement I find a cat mouse-hunting.
I go upstairs to work. Matthew (son) goes downstairs to work. Pip may be the court jester but he has patience. We don't hear from him for 3 hours. And then Matthew notices that Pip has emerged from the basement. With a live squealing mouse. Which he intends to carry upstairs to my work room. Which is a definite "No Mouse Zone."
Matthew goes after Pip, Pipster drops the mouse. The terrified mouse feezes. Matthew covers him with tupperware (yes, probably the same tupperware Paul (husband) uses to change oil and then expects me to put food in it) and Matthew takes Mighty Mouse outside to freedom. Matthew has always practiced "catch and release" with rodents. Someday I will tell you a tale about Matthew, Kirsten and me and 1 mouse. I wrote a short play about it. It had 100 productions the first year. People relate to mouse tales. Anyway, I'm thinking the mouse beat Matthew back into the house. I flee. (The old adage, "if there's 1 mouse, there's probably 7 more...)
To the orchards. The downside of being a freelance writer/playwright is that sometimes there are very lean months. The upside is - in the middle of a perfect weekday - you can flee to the orchards.
And sample apples.
I brought home the sweet Minnesota Honeycrisp. Cortland apples for baking and MacIntosh for sweet-tart breakfasts. In the eve I will have some with sharp cheddar cheese while the kids dip their slices in caramel.
I think these are Yeats, "Golden apples of the sun."
I want some.
So I buy a peck... or two. Enough for the requisite, healthy apple-a-day and enough for cake. Remember the cake (with Amaretto?).
I love pies but I've always had an affinity for apple cake. The lush, white meat stands out. Not hidden by spices. It's an apple and it proclaims itself in cake.
And so I made it. Not even a mouse (or 7 mice) will stand in the way of me and my kitchen.
And you should make it. One bowl, easy and did I mention it has Amaretto in it?
Look at the moist crumb. Sweet but not cloying. Light but fulfilling. Do yourself a favor, bake the cake!
I didn't change one gram of Proud Italian Cook's recipe. I didn't even add extra Amaretto. But you can always have some Amaretto on the side ...
Which is why I have linked to her. The recipe is here. And everywhere else I linked. Try it. You'll like it. Don't wait for a mouse to visit your house to have an excuse.