Apple Scraps: From Core to Creation

The aroma of cinnamon and baked apples had, for a glorious half-hour, managed to subdue the usual symphony of barking, tail-thumping, and the occasional clatter of something falling off the counter. Glorious, I tell you. But alas, all good things must come to an end, especially when you have a perpetually enthusiastic Chihuahua named Coco and a hyperactive Chiweenie called Peanut, neither of whom understand the concept of "quiet enjoyment."

"Amy! Amy! The crunchy bits are done!" Coco announced, her tiny body vibrating with excitement as she nudged my leg. She punctuated her announcement with a series of sharp, insistent barks. Peanut, never one to be outdone, added his own frantic yips and a flurry of tail wags that threatened to knock over my carefully arranged cooling rack.

Rex, my ever-patient, ever-amused husband, chuckled from his perch at the kitchen island, a half-eaten apple in one hand and a mug of something steaming in the other. "Sounds like the culinary critics are ready for their review, darling."