Apple ”Pie Hard”
There’s a special kind of magic that only autumn brings. The air turns crisp and golden leaves crunch underfoot, as though the earth itself is sighing in relief after the heat of summer. It’s the season of chunky sweaters, pumpkin-spiced everything, and, of course, the scent of freshly baked apple pie wafting through the house. For me, apple pie isn’t just a dessert—it’s a tradition, a connection to family, and a reminder of the simple times when my dad wasn’t yelling at me.
Every fall, Dad and I had our own ritual. While the pie baked in the oven, we’d settle onto the couch and watch Die Hard for the hundredth time. “It’s a Christmas movie,” Dad would insist, even though it was barely October. I’d roll my eyes, but secretly, I loved it. The explosions, the one-liners, the way Dad’s laughter filled the room at all the same parts every year—it was a time I could count on him not to rage about someone leaving a cupboard door open.
The house would fill with the warm, buttery scent of apples and spice, making it nearly impossible to focus on Bruce Willis crawling through air ducts. When the timer finally dinged, we’d pause the movie and head to the kitchen. Dad would pull the pie out of the oven with a reverence usually reserved for priceless artifacts. And that first bite? It was always worth the wait—a perfect blend of flaky crust, tender apples, and just the right amount of sweetness.
Even now, every time I prepare an apple pie, I think of those afternoons with Dad. It’s more than a recipe; it’s a memory, a love letter to a season and a person who sometimes pulled his shit together. So here’s to apple pies, to fall, and to the moments that stick with us like cinnamon sugar on our fingers—sweet, warm, and tolerable.
Recipe:
Purchase a Banquet Brand Apple Pie.
Bake according to instructions on the box.
Watch Die Hard with father figure.
