An apple pie with only 3 apples and in 10 minutes, it drives me crazy!

 

An Apple Pie With Only 3 Apples and Ready in 10 Minutes (And Yes, It Drives Me Crazy)

There are two kinds of people in this world:
those who believe apple pie must involve a full afternoon, twelve apples, a rolling pin workout, and at least one emotional breakdown…
and those of us who just want something warm, sweet, and comforting right now.

This post is for the second group.

Because somehow—somehow—an apple pie made with only three apples, thrown together in ten minutes, manages to taste like comfort, rebellion, and a small miracle all at once. And honestly? It drives me a little crazy.

The Apple Pie Myth We All Grew Up With

Apple pie has a reputation problem.

It’s been romanticized to death. The movies. The cookbooks. The grandmother lore. The idea that apple pie is this sacred ritual requiring:

• A mountain of apples

• Perfectly even slices

• Homemade crust (from scratch, obviously)

• Hours of your life you’ll never get back

We’ve been taught that if it isn’t complicated, it isn’t real. If it’s easy, it’s cheating. If it’s fast, it must be bad.

But here’s the thing no one tells you:
Most apple pies don’t need that much effort.
And some of the best ones absolutely do not care about your rules.

How Did We Get Here? (A Very Short Breakdown)

Apple pie became symbolic. It’s not just dessert—it’s tradition, nostalgia, and identity wrapped in butter and cinnamon.

So when someone says:

“I made an apple pie in ten minutes with three apples.”

People react like you just insulted their ancestors.

But taste doesn’t care about tradition.
Your cravings don’t care about purity.
And your stomach definitely doesn’t care how many apples were involved.

The Day I Made This Pie (Against All Logic)

It was one of those days.

You know the kind:

• You want dessert

• You don’t want to go to the store

• You don’t want a project

• You’re tired, slightly irritated, and emotionally hungry

I opened the fridge.

Three apples.

Not five. Not eight.
Three.

And instead of saying, “Well, that’s not enough for apple pie,” I said something far more dangerous:

“Let’s see what happens.”

Why Only Three Apples Actually Works

Here’s what nobody admits: most apple pies are overstuffed.

Too many apples mean:

• Excess water

• Soggy bottoms (tragic)

• Apples that steam instead of caramelize

With three apples:

• Every slice gets attention

• The flavors concentrate

• The apples actually cook, not drown

It’s not a compromise.
It’s a strategy.

The 10-Minute Reality (Yes, Really)

Let’s be clear:
This is 10 minutes of prep, not baking time.
I’m not a wizard. I’m just efficient.

What You Actually Need

• 3 medium apples (any kind—don’t overthink it)

• 1 ready-made pie crust (store-bought is fine, relax)

• 2–3 tablespoons sugar (white or brown)

• ½ teaspoon cinnamon

• A pinch of salt

• Optional: butter, lemon juice, nutmeg

That’s it. No secret ingredient. No moral superiority.

The Actual Process

1. Preheat the oven (this is the longest step emotionally).

2. Slice the apples—not perfectly, just thin enough.

3. Toss them in a bowl with sugar, cinnamon, and salt.

4. Dump everything into the crust.

5. Fold or cover.

6. Bake.

That’s the whole scandal.

Ten minutes. Three apples. No drama.

Why This Pie Feels Illegal

There’s something unsettling about how good it is.

It shouldn’t work.
It doesn’t follow the rules.
And yet—there it is, bubbling and golden and smelling like autumn and forgiveness.

It’s the baking equivalent of realizing:

• You didn’t need that toxic relationship

• You don’t need to hustle every second

• Simple doesn’t mean inferior

And that realization?
Yeah. It messes with you.

The Flavor: Surprisingly Intense

Because there are fewer apples, the sugar and spice cling to each slice instead of getting lost.

You taste:

• The apple

• The cinnamon

• The buttery crust

Nothing is diluted. Nothing is wasted.

It’s focused. Intentional. Almost smug.

The Texture Is the Real Secret

With fewer apples:

• The filling sets better

• The crust stays crisp

• You don’t get that watery apple soup situation

Every bite feels planned, even though it absolutely wasn’t.

Why People Get Weirdly Defensive About This Pie

Tell someone you made apple pie with three apples and watch what happens.

They’ll say things like:

• “That’s not enough.”

• “That’s not traditional.”

• “That’s more like a tart.”

What they mean is:

“This challenges something I believe.”

Food is emotional.
And this pie quietly threatens the idea that effort equals worth.

This Pie Is for Real Life

This isn’t a holiday pie.
It’s not for impressing guests.
It’s for:

• Tuesday nights

• Sudden cravings

• “I just need something warm” moments

It’s the pie you make when life feels heavy and you don’t want to negotiate with flour.

Variations (Because You’ll Make It Again)

Once you accept that this works, you’ll start experimenting.

• Add a handful of berries

• Drizzle caramel

• Sprinkle oats on top

• Add a splash of vanilla

The base stays the same. The chaos evolves.

The Emotional Aftermath

Here’s the part no one warns you about.

After you eat it, you’ll feel:

• Slightly smug

• Mildly rebellious

• Confused about why you ever did it the hard way

You’ll question your past choices.
You’ll eye your other recipes suspiciously.

If apple pie can be this easy…
what else have we been lied to about?

Why It Drives Me Crazy (In the Best Way)

It drives me crazy because:

• It works when it shouldn’t

• It’s better than it has any right to be

• It breaks rules without asking permission

And once you taste it, you can’t un-know it.

Final Thoughts (And a Small Warning)

Make this pie once, and you’ll never fully respect complicated apple pie recipes again.

You’ll still make them—sometimes.
But you’ll know they’re optional.

This pie doesn’t try to be impressive.
It just shows up, does its job, and leaves you happier than expected.

And honestly?

That’s kind of perfect.