Dear Reader: I have not posted for a very long time. This has been due mainly to the fact that I tend now to eat such uninteresting breakfasts that have all been essentially so similar, that there is simply not sufficient variety to merit commentary here. However, there have been some wildly enjoyable breakings-of-form that I have not shared with you, and for that I apologize. In fact, perhaps I will go back through the archive and attempt to reassemble the circumstances surrounding a breakfast or two and recreate them for you here. Meanwhile, I do have some news.
There I was, walking around the North Carolina State Farmer's Market - late afternoon on a Friday - in the off-season. Very few things caught my eye. I had purchased a three-dollar bunch of spring garlic, which awaits creative use. But then. I walked past a very non-descript bakery. You know the type - more blank space behind the glass than not. A marquis that offers things like Mountain Dew and chips. State Fair kind of fair. But then. Behind a clear hard plastic case, I saw a stack of some kind of dark golden brown pastry. You could tell there was crispness there. Fattiness otherwise known as greasiness. There were even some occasional dark almost black spots. So not machine made. They approximated the shape of large calzones - but it was clear that they were a sweet.
I had to inquire.
Turns out they are called "Apple Jacks." I have seen hand pies and popovers, turnovers and individual pies - but I had never seen an Apple Jack. The nice man behind the counter when asked kindly explained that they are made using a recipe of his great great grandmother. I am not cynical, but I did wonder slightly if that was merely a line, a selling point - but on some more true heartfelt level I believed I was in the presence of a familial legacy. The man explained that one of the special ingredients was powdered (as opposed to granulated) sugar. He said that this made it a sweet dough. He also said he used dried apples. And that he also makes them in peach and sweet potato. All of this seemed too specific, too knowledgeable, too detailed to be mythology.
What he did not know was that two of the details, the powdered sugar / sweet dough pitch - as well as the dried apples aspect - were both strikes
against the pastry. But I had already purchased it. I held it, wrapped in its waxed paper cover held within a white paper bakery bag, swathed in a white plastic grocery bag that thanked me for having made my four dollar purchase.
Here's the thing. When I took it home, I made some hot tea. It was perfect. Crunchy outer shell, the perfect chew, the apple filling not too sweet, generous but not overfilled - and the crust delivered the salt notes that were required to elevate its status to Pie Hero.
Now, I admit that mistakes were made. Ultimately, for example, I ate the whole thing. You will note from the picture that I provide here that the thing was huge. That is not a small pastry plate - it is a large honking dinner plate - and the Apple Jack barely fits on it.
Nevertheless, I regret nothing.
p.s.: I will preemptively fully acknowledge that this post is peripheral at best to breakfast. For example, the pastry in question was consumed in the late afternoon. It is fully disclosed here that it had not been the first meal of the day. But it has great breakfast potential. And that is all I feel I need to say in this regard. Thank you for your time.
