{"id":151557,"date":"2013-10-10T00:00:00","date_gmt":"2013-10-10T00:00:00","guid":{"rendered":"https:\/\/gracious-khorana.45-76-20-142.plesk.page\/localmex12013x110x1salted-caramel-apple-dumplings-with-dried-cherries-hazlenuts-and-ginger-htmlx1\/"},"modified":"2023-06-26T17:12:12","modified_gmt":"2023-06-26T17:12:12","slug":"salted-caramel-apple-dumplings-with-dried-cherries-hazlenuts-and-ginger","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/localmilkblog.com\/2013\/10\/salted-caramel-apple-dumplings-with-dried-cherries-hazlenuts-and-ginger.html","title":{"rendered":"Salted Caramel Apple Dumplings with Dried Cherries & Hazelnuts"},"content":{"rendered":"
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I pulled up to the orchard, and my nerves were trembling most pleasant, my spine shivering. It was a long drive by myself to get there, a long drive past the Ocoee River spent exploring my own winding, narrow back roads, places not a little treacherous, tiny white crosses dotting the shoulder. I listened to glitter & entropy on the radio, living, for a moment, in a strange glow. I felt great love for the tiny lavender flowers and golden rod bending out of the rocks on my left, the river rushing to placid rushing to placid on my right. It was all me, and I was all it. I was rushing placid rushing and deeply occupied with traversing my own lascivious landscapes while I traversed the literal landscape. These are the things we do alone, and I love to wander in familiar, damp underground tunnels, lost in my favorite stories to tell myself. My face gets warm, every nerve in my body lights up, and I feel a lash of energy whip through me. I like driving alone. Especially in the Blue Ridge Mountains when the end game is fruit. The fruit. Apples. Apples for pies, for apple butter, for crunching, for chicken & pork. And for salty caramel dumplings, mostly.<\/p>\n


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When I drive alone, I don\u2019t like to stop. I always think I might just drive right into a different life, a new dimension of the scintillating multiverse. A whole other planet. It\u2019s a feeling that\u2019s always with me, a whisper I live with. The universe saw fit to give me a house on a precipice to live in. It\u2019s beautiful here. And I won\u2019t jump or fall today, not that I think there\u2019s a difference between the two. Not today. Today the river, the flowering rocks, the smoky ridge, and all the spoils of orchards keep me.<\/p>\n

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So I do stop. At Mercier Orchard. And I go about living normally, wholly & wholesome. I pull into the lot and as soon as I open the car door the smell of fried pies hits me, all butter and fruit and spice. You can taste it. And I\u2019m glad to be a real girl in a living world<\/p>\n

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I made my way past the pond, the sun just starting to set over the orchard. Children ran, parents bickered, and everyone walked to their cars with great bags of apples, of barely blushed Cameos, the pink of their skin streaking into yellow. Of brown speckled Golden Delicious and proud Fujis and everything so ripe. I caught the last tractor into the orchard and wandered from the hill down into the valley, lost and alone in the trees and dust, fallen apples scattered and littering the ground, half rotting. Being alone in the trees was so good, those nerves could really bounce around out there. I had room to be a hot ball of light for a moment before it all got sucked back in to my ribcage. I picked an apple and ate it, juice running down my fingers. I licked it from the inside of my wrist, feeling full and flush and so ripe on the bough. Easy picking.<\/p>\n

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I filled my bag with Cameos and only Cameos. They\u2019re full, firm, and tart. Good for baking. Good for baking whole wrapped in that flaky pastry crust of Thomas Keller\u2019s I always use, changing the liquid and fat and method here or there, but always keeping the ratio the same. Because it never lets me down and is oh so easy. So tender. In between concupiscent reveries born, perhaps, of some archetypal orchard (I saw no snakes), I dreamt up ways to cook forbidden fruit. There\u2019d be hazelnuts and dried cherries because they\u2019re special. Smoky, salty caramel. Sugar and spice. Stuff I\u2019m made out of. Right. And a big dollop of my homemade ginger cr\u00e8me fraiche. Lightly whipped. D\u2019accord.\u00a0<\/i><\/p>\n

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