Apple Pie with Caramel & Goat Cheese

I love driving a stick shift, but that love is marred by a fear of hills, and slopes, and anything above a one degree incline. Years ago, when I went out on my fist solo drive in an old red Volvo, I hit every single red light. One of the traffic lights was located atop a steeeep hill and, lucky me, I was the first one to reach it. Staring at the light (wishing it would stay red forever) I recited what I had been taught about releasing the clutch, my palms were sweaty and I could feel everything I'd eaten that day churning around my stomach. When the light changed I cursed it, and everyone behind me for being behind me, then I went about trying to time everything perfectly. With the slow grace of a tank-size red swan, my car drifted back, rather sadly, into another car. Oh, the humanity! The other driver was pleasant enough, but humiliation took over my already threadbare confidence. To this day, for the life of me, I cannot make it up a hill in a stick shift. I have loads of other mental blocks too, but not being able to drive a stick without feeling nauseous is quite the proverbial bee in my bonnet.

Since we're in the springtime of autumn, and because the aforementioned "hill from hell" incident occurred in October, amid a "Twin Peaks" Bravo marathon, I'll always place red Volvos, Dale Cooper, high-waisted late '90s jeans, and apple pies together on the same shelf of shimmering tourmaline.
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