Recently I committed a sacrilege, something I never thought I'd be able to do.
You see, I am the third generation in my family to love and make Virginia Apple Pudding. It is simple to make, and is kind of like a cobbler but with more topping. The batter is poured on top of melted butter, with cooked Golden Delicious apples centered on top. After about forty minutes in the oven the batter rises up over the apples in a warm, buttery wonder. The outside crisps and the middle is soft and slightly gooey. Nothing fights the cold better.
This time I made Virginia Apple pudding with pears, instead of apples. My mother would shake her head in shame, my grandmother worse. It was good, definitely. But it wasn't the same. Which just goes to show you, why mess with a good thing?
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