The apples were bruised. Not badly—just soft around the edges, like something that used to be crisp but got tired.
Mae had left a note on the fridge that just said, “Pie?”
No question mark. Just the word. And that was enough.
I hadn’t made a double crust in a year. Maybe more.
Last time, it was too hot, the dough cracked, and I cried alone in the laundry room while the filling boiled over.
This time, it was cold enough to try again.
What the Original Looked Like
Her Highness doesn’t fuss.
Two pâte brisée rounds—chilled. Stacked like linen.
Twelve Granny Smith apples (she counts), lemon zest and juice, cinnamon, nutmeg, a whisper of clove.
Sugar, but not too much. Flour to catch the juice. Dabs of butter like punctuation.
She dots, she crimps, she vents. She brushes the whole thing with egg like it’s getting ready for a gala.
Then she bakes it for an hour, unbothered.
It cools beautifully.
I do not.
The Way It Happened in My Kitchen
I had eight apples. One was mealy. I used it anyway.
Didn’t have nutmeg, so I scraped the edge of an old jar and hoped for the best.
Zested the lemon into a chipped green bowl I’ve had since Mae was teething.
The dough was still cold from the night before. Rolled better than I deserved.
Pressed it into the pie tin like smoothing out a map I hadn’t looked at in years.
The apple mix smelled like that one fall Mae got sick at school and I left work early.
I’d forgotten how strong cinnamon can be when you’re already emotional.
Topped it with the second crust—less perfect than I wanted, more honest than I expected.
Cut vents. Brushed egg. Sprinkled sugar with a pinch I didn’t measure.
Baked it while the rain started, quietly.
The Bit I Got Wrong (And Liked More)
I didn’t peel every apple perfectly.
Some slices were thicker than others. Some too thin. Some curled like ribbon.
And I didn’t wait for the pie to cool. Cut into it warm.
Juice ran everywhere. It didn’t set.
Didn’t matter.
What I Did With the Rest
Mae had a slice for dinner. Said nothing, just took a second.
I stood at the counter and ate mine with a spoon.
Left the last piece in the tin overnight. Cold the next morning. Still good.
Maybe better.
Would I Make It Again?
When the light slants just right, and the house is too quiet—yes.
If you want something sturdier, the pie crust itself holds up on its own. I wrote about that last week when I was feeling braver.
FAQs
Yep. Wrap it tight, tuck it in the fridge, and forget about it for a day or two. It rolls out better when it’s had time to think.
No—but it changes the texture. Peeled gives you soft and silky. Unpeeled is a little chewier. I’ve done both. Depends how tired I am.
Granny Smith is Martha’s go-to, and it does the job. But I’ve used Honeycrisp, Fuji, a weird one from Mae’s lunchbox—I like a mix. Keeps it interesting.
Absolutely. Especially if your apples lean sweet. Just taste the filling before you commit. (Yes, raw. Yes, with your fingers.)
Technically? Yes. Emotionally? I’ve never waited. You’ll get a bit of a collapse, but sometimes that’s the point.
Check out More Recipes:
- Martha Stewart Turkey Meatballs
- Martha Stewart Turkey Chili
- Martha Stewart Chocolate Chip Cookies
- Martha Stewart Pie Crust
Martha Stewart Apple Pie Recipe
Description
Warm, messy, and soft around the edges—like forgiveness in a crust.
Ingredients
Instructions
- Preheat the oven & roll the dough: 375°F / 190°C. Roll both crusts out on a floured counter. One goes into the pie plate. The other stays chilled on wax paper like it’s waiting for its cue.
- Make the filling: Peel, core, slice the apples. Thick, thin, doesn’t matter. Toss with sugar, lemon, spices, flour. Stir until coated and it smells like late October.
- Assemble the pie: Spoon filling into the crust. Dot with butter. Lay the second crust on top. Cut slits. Fold and crimp like you’re sealing a letter to someone you miss.
- Brush and bake: Egg wash the top. Sprinkle sugar like a blessing. Bake for 1 hour. Don’t open the door too early. Let the house smell like before.
- Cool if you can: Or cut while warm and let it fall apart. Sometimes things don’t have to hold together to still be right.