The apple pie (alongside mom, of course) became the symbolic food of a nation

Flaky, golden crust. Apple juices bubbling through its vents. The scent of cinnamon. Apple pie is my comfort food, and the only thing my family always cooks together: rolling the dough, fluting the crust’s edges, peeling and chopping the apples. My mom, the keeper of our oven’s flame, has hinted s...

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