I am now the owner of a pumpkin, a peck of apples, and a mind full of adventure from my amazing Saturday.
And let me assure you, it was quite amazing.
It started for me somewhere after waking up between ten-thirty and eleven A.M., which in itself is a small miracle, for I have early classes. The day further progressed into a spiral effect of awesome-ness as me and a few of my friends went on an apple picking trip sponsored by CAB (Campus Activities Board) to Berlin Orchards. While it sprinkled the entire time, and my sneakers and jeans up to my knees got soaked (I lack common sense and knelt down in the grass after some of my apples rolled out of the bag), it was still loads of fun. For only $3 I got ten pounds of apples, not to mention I discovered this really tasty type of apple called Jonagold. I also bought a small pumpkin and some apple crisp mix, which my friends and I used later.
Much, much later.
It was roughly 6:10 P.M., the dining hall was lively, the rain outside had slowed to a light sprinkle and two brave students decided to find the one missing ingredient for their apple crisp: butter. My friend Gordon and I ventured out to the Lobby Shop in Hogan first, thinking that because they sell eggs, milk, soap, and several varieties of cheese that we’d be able to find 1/3 a cup of butter. As it turns out, there was none there. We considered several options, including asking random people if they had butter, making our own butter from Half and Half, and running up and down Hogan in search of one of the three buses that run through Holy Cross. There was a wedding reception going on in Hogan 3, so hopefully the people there thought nothing of the pair of students dashing breathlessly through the door, looking for the nonexistent bus.
Eventually, we ended up calling a few friends (because there is safety in numbers) to make the trek down the hill to the gas station. When the gas station didn’t have butter either, one of us noted that there was a convenience store across the street, where, lo and behold, we bought a box of I Can’t Believe It’s Not Butter. As our little group made the hike back up the hill, we saw the bus leaving with its occupants away from Holy Cross.
We arrived at Hanselman kitchen at 8:40 P.M. and proceeded to make one excellent apple crisp. We ate it with cider and I got to keep the wooden spoon that came with the packet of apple crisp mix.
Some people party on Saturday nights; my friends and I go on epic butter quests.
