It’s that time of year again. I’ve packed provisions and printed out my e-ticket, my photo ID is in hand, and I’m heading out. If there were a way to do it, there’d be a big red circle on this weekend’s dates in my computer calendar.

In fact, I thought about taking lipstick to the screen — it’s that important an event. Instead I settled for capital letters and lots of exclamation points. Friday’s entry reads “REDNECK POKER!!!”

What? You haven’t heard of this semi-religious rite, the biggest holiday of the fall season? Well, I guess there’s no reason you should have. I’m sorry to say you aren’t welcome to attend. By tradition, this pilgrimage to the Virginia foothills is performed by only a small, exclusive sect of dedicated devotees.

The Poker Group.

I’ve told you about them before — this stalwart band of inveterate gamblers who have been getting together on alternate Thursdays for the past 25-plus years. I left them behind when I moved to California — sort of. Perhaps I haven’t conveyed the gravity, the honor, the lifetime commitment of induction into this august group. Once a member, always a member. Even if you move three time zones away.

I still get e-mail invitations announcing the game’s location every two weeks — and ritually reply-to-all that, alas, I will be out of town that day and unable to attend. It makes me a little sad, but it’s gratifying to know that they haven’t given up on me. For my part, I am equally unwilling to cede my “active member” status. When personal space travel becomes a possibility, I’ll be there for every game.

But until I can strap on a jetpack and swoop in, I’m restricted to long, unpleasant, commercial flights, so right now I only get back once or twice a year. When I can make it, Redneck Poker weekend is tops on my travel plans.

The event was named that by our founding member Laura, in honor of her residence in the outer boondocks of Virginia. She gladly makes the 50-mile trek into D.C. for most of the games, but this annual weekend is her way of luring everyone into a reverse commute to her house in bucolic Frogtown.

The membership will soon be assembling at the old farmhouse for a cozy house party. We’re planning any number of energetic amusements — hikes, horseback riding, kayaking, visits to local attractions — even though I suspect that we will actually spend the entire weekend hanging out on the spacious porch and in the kitchen, cooking and then stuffing our faces.

Oh, I’m sorry. Did I give you the impression this weekend is about card playing? Of course a game or two will break out at some point, but do you really think I’d fly clear across the country just to win back the $40 they managed to wrest from me last time?

Well actually I DO want to win it back — I haven’t forgiven the group yet for bringing in that new wild-card game, with all the crazy rules designed to milk the unwary occasional player. (Me. Moo.)

But apart from the opportunity for revenge, this beloved institution’s real appeal is in offering the two great constants that make life worth living — friendship and food.

Right now, emails are flying back and forth, as members stake their claim on the various meals. It’s going to be a two-day feast.

I was luck enough to draw Saturday dinner, which fits right into my plans. I’m going to sate everyone with classic comfort food followed by a sinfully delicious dessert, all washed down with Napa wines I will illicitly “direct import” in my suitcase. When everyone is all mellow and happy — and if all goes well, a bit tipsy — that’s when I’ll make my move.

I’ll pull out the cards and suggest a friendly game of poker. I’ve got a new game I want to show them. The rules are a little complicated, and it has some wild cards, but I’m sure they’ll like it.

The least they can do is cover the cost of my airfare.

After a simple, satisfying dinner of roast chicken and herbed potatoes, I think the perfect fall dessert — and the best way to get everyone ready to be fleeced — will be individual rustic apple tarts à la mode. I’ve been testing out recipes this week looking for the perfect version — though I confess I am enjoying the search too much to decide just yet! Here’s one leading contender.

Rustic Cinnamon-Apple Tarts

1 recipe pâte brisée (recipe follows, or use your own favorite, with cinnamon added), divided into four discs

2 Granny Smith apples

Juice of 1 lemon

1/4 cup sugar mixed with 1/4 tsp. cinnamon

1/4 cup caramel sauce (high-quality commercial, or homemade)

1 Tbsp. butter

Preheat the oven to 400 F.

Peel, core, halve and thinly slice (1/8 inch) the apples. Toss the slices with the lemon juice and 4 tablespoons of the cinnamon sugar. Set aside.

Take one of the discs of dough and roll it out evenly between two sheets of plastic wrap to form a 7-inch circle. Remove the plastic wrap and trim the dough, if necessary, to even the circle. Repeat with the remaining dough. Place the four pieces of dough on a cookie sheet. Spread about 1 tablespoon of the caramel on the center of each piece, leaving the outer one-inch edge clear. Arrange the apple slices in an attractive spiral on top of the caramel, using about half an apple per tart. Fold the edges of the dough upward and inward to form a side crust, making gentle pleats to take up any extra dough. Be sure that there are no low spots or holes in the side edge — otherwise the juice and caramel will flow out during baking and make a mess. (Ask me how I know this.)

Thinly slice the butter and break it into small pieces to dot the top of the apples. Sprinkle each tart with 1 teaspoon of the remaining cinnamon sugar.

Bake 25 minutes, or until the crust is browned and the apples are cooked.

Serve warm, with ice cream. Heat the remaining caramel syrup and drizzle on top.

Makes 4 rustic tarts – serves either 4 or 8, depending on how hungry you are.

Simple Pâte Brisée

2 cups sifted flour

1/2 tsp. salt

1/4 tsp. cinnamon

1 Tbsp. sugar

10 Tbsp. butter at room temperature

1 egg

2 Tbsp. cold water

In a food processor, mix together the dry ingredients. Add the butter and pulse until just mixed. Add the egg, pulse a few more times, and then add just enough water to make a dough that is pliable but not wet. Pulse until the dough just comes together into a ball. Divide into four parts, patting each part into a disk. Wrap each separately in plastic wrap and allow them to rest in the refrigerator for at least one hour.