Yankee Chef

Take the pip (seed) of an apple and walk around in a circle of the opposite sex, squeezing it between the index finger and the thumb while chanting: "Pippin! Pippin! Paradise!

Tell me where my true love lies"

The person that the seed "randomly" hit when it shot out from between the fingers was your potential lover. By carrying on this short poem, you will be continuing a tradition that has been repeated over and over again by our forebears for centuries.

Makes about 4 dozen

2 1/2 cups flour

1 tablespoon cinnamon

1/2 teaspoon nutmeg

1 teaspoon baking soda

1/2 teaspoon salt

2 sticks (1 cup) butter or margarine, softened

1 cup firmly packed brown sugar

1 cup granulated sugar

3 eggs

2 cups quick-cooking oats

1 large apple, peeled, cored and chopped

1 cup whole, fresh cranberries

Place cranberries in a small saucepan, cover with water and boil over medium-high heat until they are popping, about 5 minutes. Remove from heat and drain well: set aside.

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. In a large bowl, mix flour, cinnamon, nutmeg, baking soda and salt well and set aside. With tabletop or hand mixer, beat butter and sugars together on high until fluffy and creamy looking. Reduce speed to low and add eggs and vanilla, mixing well. Slowly beat in the flour mixture until well blended.

Stir in the oatmeal, apple and cranberries, combining until apples and cranberries are evenly distributed.

Drop by the rounded tablespoon onto an ungreased cookie or baking sheet. Bake 11-13 minutes, or until lightly browned. Remove to cool in pans for a couple of minutes, transferring to racks to finish cooling.

If you happened to be by yourself and wanted to know what your "love future" beheld, press the apple seed on your forehead as hard as you could stand and then let go. Start reciting the following verse.

Wherever in the verse you happened to be reading at the time the seed fell off, was your "love future."

One, I love.

Two, I love.

Three, I love, I say.

Four, I love with all my heart.

And five, I cast away;

Six, he loves.

Seven, she loves.

Eight, the both love;

Nine, he comes.

Ten, he tarries.

Eleven, he courts.

Twelve, he marries;

Thirteen wishes,

Fourteen kisses. All the rest are witches.


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