mj (12/23/82)
#N:pur-ee:3900006:000:981 pur-ee!mj Dec 22 14:24:00 1982 First, a commentary: Dried Apple Pies I loathe, abhor, detest, despise, Abominate dried apple pies. I like good bread, I like good meat, Or anything that's fit to eat; But of all poor grub beneath the skies, The poorest is dried apple pies. Give me the toothache, or sore eyes, But don't give me dried apple pies. The farmer takes his gnarliest fruit, 'Tis wormy, bitter, and tough, to boot; He leaves the hulls to make us cough, And don't take half the peeling off. Then on a dirty cord 'tis strung And in a garret window hung, And there it serves as roost for flies, Until it's made up into pies. Tread on my corns, or tell me lies, But don't pass me dried apple pies. Unknown Regardless of the tone of the poem, does anybody have a good recipe for the above? Please, no flies (yukh!) ________ Mark A. Johnson Purdue University decvax!pur-ee!mj (317) 743-8443