1. The oven should be heated up to 180 degrees. Sift the flour and baking soda. Melt the butter.

2. Connect the oil, the flour with the soda and sour cream. Stir until smooth.

3. To take shape and lightly grease with oil. The dough with your hands to put into shape, to form ledges.

4. Apples peel and cut into thin and small pieces.

5. Evenly spread the apples on the dough and sprinkle with lemon juice to avoid darkening.

6. Prepare cream: whip the cream with the sugar (add the sugar gradually, tasting, and that will be very sweet if the apples are sweet), egg and flour. Pour custard apples and sprinkle with cinnamon.

7. Bake an Apple pie for 50 minutes at 180 degrees, until it is baked you can enjoy the work of Marina Tsvetaeva: *** Yesterday, even in the eyes looked, And now — all the glances to the side! Yesterday, before the birds were sitting— now larks — the crows! I'm stupid and you're smart, Lively, and I dumbfounded. O cry of women of all ages: "My dear, what have I done?" And her tears are water, blood and Water — blood, tears amylase! Not a mother and stepmother — Love: don't wait no trial, no mercy. Taken cute the ships, Pulls their way white... And the moan is along of the whole earth: "My dear, what have I done?!" Yesterday — legs were lying! Equated with the Chinese power! At once both ruchenki unclenched— Life had the rusty penny! Infanticide in court I Stand — doghouse, timid. I and hell tell you: "My dear, what have I done?!" I will ask the chair, ask the bed: "what is suffering and in poverty?" "Otselul — the wheel: Another kiss",— responsible. Accustomed to live in the fire, He threw — in the steppes of the icy! That's what you are, honey, did me. My darling, you I do? All ignorant — do not contradict! Re-sighted — it is not the mistress! Where the senses Love, it rises Death gardener. Itself — that tree shake! In time ripe Apple falls down... Over all, I'm sorry for everything, My dear, what have I done! 14 Jun 1920

BON APPETIT!