Saving Thanksgiving with Grandma Scanlan's Apple Pie

 

Many of us know Ann Schmelzer, Program Manager for Regional Development at the Indiana State Department of Agriculture. She is often at the forefront of the local food initiatives around the state and navigates that terrain with her characteristically calm and commanding demeanor. But you never really know someone until they are put under pressure to perform in an environment that is somewhat alien to them. By her own admission for Ann that environment would be the kitchen.

Several years ago on Thanksgiving Day--the mother of all cooking holidays which is known to instill fear in the hearts of even the most accomplished cooks--Ann's calm demeanor was put to the test as she faced what looked like a baking war zone in her Mom's home. What happened? Well, I could tell the story but it's much better coming from Ann herself.
  

“It was my junior year and high school and my mom and stepfather had finally decided that we were going to do Thanksgiving at home instead of our usual sojourn to Chicago.  Junior year was notorious at my preparatory school for being particularly grueling, and I was looking forward to four days of blissful rest and recovery. Thanksgiving morning there was a knock at my bedroom door far too early by teenage standards (circa 7:30 a.m.), and it was my mom standing outside whispering “Annie—Annie, you have to get up.”  Of course I rolled back over pretending to hear nothing.  Surely this was a bad dream, surely my mom would have the common decency to leave me alone on Thanksgiving morning… but the soft knocking and whisper came again.  This was no dream. 

My mom came into my room as I looked at her through sleepy, irritated eyes.  She said “Annie, you have to come downstairs and fix the pies.  They have to go into the oven now so that we can put the turkey in there later, and I can’t get them to work.”  I recall thinking at the time “What do you mean you can’t get them to work?  It’s pie-making not rocket science…”  (I was only 16--at least I didn’t say it out loud) 

When I came downstairs it was like walking onto a floured battle field.  There was flour everywhere!  And in the middle of the flour-insanity sat a lumpy, watery, pathetic-looking wad of dough that would have been far better suited to use for caulking the bathtub than pie crust.  In my mom’s defense, she was never allowed in my grandmother’s kitchen throughout most of the Thanksgiving Day preparations.  For whatever reason, (probably the privilege that comes with being the first grandchild) I was allowed to stay in the kitchen.  Every year, starting from about the age of four or five, I had watched my grandmother prepare the pies while playing quietly (so as not to get shooed out) with the leftover dough.  I don’t ever recall paying particularly close attention, but when I walked onto the scene in the kitchen that morning I immediately threw the “pie crust” in the trash and started over.  I worked diligently, with my mom looking on saying things to me like “that wasn’t in the directions… or that, or that”. 

The pies came out looking, smelling, and most importantly tasting just as they always had, much to everyone’s relief.”

 

Ann saved Thanksgiving and has been making the family pies ever since.

The apple pie recipe that Ann made that morning has been in her family since the 19^thcentury. Her great-great-great grandmother brought it with her when she emigrated from Germany to the United States and it has graced every holiday table since then. In fact, according to Ann’s mother, Kathy Bielmeier, it’s the ONLY pie served at their family gatherings.

So, if you want a no-fail apple pie for your Thanksgiving table, click here for the recipe courtesy of Ann Schmelzer, Kathy Bielmeier, and Eileen Scanlan (aka Grandma Scanlan).