My father-in-law is one of those people who will appear to be doing nothing more labor-intensive than puttering around in the kitchen, moving a bowl over here and a carton of milk over there...and will then all of a sudden sail over to the table carrying a tray of expertly baked goods. And then he'll whip up some from-scratch icing in the time it ordinarily takes me to locate a fork. And then the bowls go ahead and clean themselves. Or that's what it seems like, anyway, because I never see him do it, and then poof: clean.

I don't get it. When I bake, or cook, or do anything at all in the kitchen, there is always a flour avalanche, or a vanilla mishap, or a stick of butter that I forgot to remove from the refrigerator in time to soften and that must be cursed at for awhile. Not my father-in-law; with him, it's all (seemingly) effortless production of delicious things.

And that makes him a very fun person to visit on a cold winter day, when he without fail produces a big tray of this apple crisp. Thanks, Tom!