I think we've already established that I'm not much of a cook, so it should be no surprise that two of my three baked apples split in half. I bought these cute little dishes from one of the women who grew up in our home (and whose daughter babysits our son - small town!), and she said her mother made baked apples in them. They're signed and dated '73 on the bottom - her mother was a painter, so I'm guessing they were from a ceramist friend. I love all things 70's, and I also like the history of happiness that small objects can carry. When my son asked me about the dishes, I told him that the children who lived here before him ate baked apples from them. He said, "Oh!" in that sweet way toddlers do.
I do not own an apple corer, so I stabbed a knife around the core and popped them out (which is probably why two of them broke). Then I stuffed some raisins in the center and sprinkled brown sugar and a little cinnamon on top. I didn't have any apple juice to pour in the bottoms of the dishes (to keep the apples from drying), so I used orange juice. As per my vintage Better Homes and Gardens cookbook, I peeled the skins from the tops and baked them at 350 degrees for about 25 minutes. My son , squeezed between my husband and me on our small wicker sofa in the sun room, devoured his with some vanilla ice cream. My husband complained that I left the skins on, but I thought mine was delicious, with the skin just a little tart from the orange juice.