There’s something about apple-picking season that feels like a fresh start. The air gets crisp, the leaves crunch underfoot, and suddenly pumpkin-spiced everything is everywhere. But for my family, autumn always meant apples first.

Every year, my siblings and I would gather our families and head to the orchards. Depending on whose house was hosting the post-picking feast, we’d pile into cars and make our way either to Sussex County and Warwick, NY—or sometimes down to Hunterdon County. We started this tradition when my nieces were just little ones, and now they’re off creating their own memories with friends and families.

For me, it’s always been about the laughter between the trees, the apple-stained fingers, and that inevitable taste-test right there in the orchard. And of course—the baking.