As American as…

Brett and I live next door to an old lady named Olivia. Whenever we leave the house, she sees us, because for most of the day she sits on a stoop across the street. She beckons us to come over. Sometimes it's just to say hello, but usually she also wants to know:

1. Have we eaten breakfast/lunch/dinner (depending on the time of day)?
2. Are we about to go dancing to find pequenas (girlfriends)? If not, why not?
3. Are we interested in buying this lovely eggplant/lettuce/whatever?

Yesterday it was #3 — her friend had a bunch of fresh apples from the orchard. Except I'm not exactly sure they came from the orchard, since they look just like the apples I used to buy on Santiago (the main island). Probably they're from Spain or something like that. But I bought a bag of them anyway, because I wanted to make a pie.

Not too bad, eh? Especially for my first time making crust. That said, the taste was only about 80% as good as the gold standard (my mother's pie crust). It was flaky, but not flaky enough. Pie experts, do I need more butter or flour or something else?