Cooking and castle-building

"There is, for example, one made without under-crust, in a deep plate, and the apples laid in in full quarters; or the apples, being stewed, are beaten to a mush and seasoned and put between the double paste ; or they are sliced thin and cooked entirely within the covers ; or they are put, without seasoning, into their bed, and when baked, the upper lid is raised and the butter, nutmeg, cinnamon, and sugar are added, the whole well mixed, and the crust returned as if nothing happened. But oh, be careful of the paste ! Let it be not like putty, nor rush to the other extreme, and make it so flaky that one holds his breath while eating, for fear of blowing it away. Let it not be plain as bread, nor yet rich like cake. Aim at that glorious medium in which it is tender, without being too fugaciously flaky ; short, without being too short; a mild, sapid, brittle thing, that lies npon the tongue, so as to let the apple strike through and touch the papilloe with a more affluent flavor. But this, like all high art, must be a thing of inspiration or instinct. A true cook will understand us, and we care not if others do not ! " Do not suppose that we limit the apple-pie to the kinds and methods enumerated. Its capacity in variation is endless, and every diversity discovers some new charm or flavor. It will accept almost every flavor of every spice. And yet nothing is so fatal to the rare and higher graces of apple-pie as inconsiderate, vulgar spicing. It is not meant to be a mere vehicle for the exhibition of these spices, in their own natures ; it is a glorious unity, in which sugar gives up its nature as sugar, and butter ceases to be butter, and each flavorsome spice gladly vanishes from its own full nature, that all of them, by a common death, may rise into the new life of apple-pie ! Not that apple is longer apple ! It, too, is transformed ; and the final pic, though born of apple, sugar, butter, nutmeg, cinnamon, lemon, is like none of these, but the compound ideal of them all, refined, purified, and by fire fixed in blissful perfection." "Now," remarked Emeline, "let us see if this is equal to H. W. B.'s ideal pie ! " As she pressed the upper-crust gently with the pie-knife, the merest drop of candied juice appeared between its parted lips ; and, although she lifted a piece to another plate with a quick, dexterous movement, a spoon was needed to dip from the pie-dish some juice, unavoidably spilled in the operation. Helping each of us in a similar manner, Emeline ate a minute in silence, and then said, with a satisfied air, — "Had brother Beecher eaten one of your pies, Kate, before he wrote that essay on apple-pie, he would not for the world have mentioned nutmeg, allspice, or cinnamon, in connection with applepie. He would have known they were of the earth earthy, mere 'inconsiderate, vulgar spicing;'good enough, perhaps, for uncultivated or depraved tastes ; but not like this, hinting of orange-groves and fairer climes, — a combination of flavors and fragrance unknown to common mortals, who have never enjoyed such a perfect pie as the one now before us. Do tell us how this was fashioned, created, built up into such completeness ? " "Then, I suppose you wish to know, in the first place, how the crust is made?"