
If you recall, I spent last fall on the hunt for an apple cake recipe to call my own. I tried a French apple cake and served it with caramel sauce; I made another that was packed with apples and loaded with an obscene amount of crumb topping. And this September, as soon as the stone fruits and berries gave way to apples at the grocery store, I picked up right where I left off in my quest for apple cake perfection. This year I was thinking walnuts and cinnamon, butter and maple.
My persistence is paying off–this cake’s a keeper. It’s a lightly spiced tube cake, with a moist, tender crumb. You hit an apple chunk in most bites, a walnut in every other. All of that goodness is sealed in with a maple and brown butter glaze that is the literal and figurative icing on the cake. It’s decadent but homey, easy yet impressive, and definitely a cake I’ll make over and over.
I’ve been really into brunch the past few weeks. Life has felt a bit frantic lately and carving out time for a leisurely morning meal on the weekends is a good way to make the day at least feel like it’s stretched out in front of you, even if the minute your plate is empty you’ve got to run off and go about other business.
One surefire way to determine the success of a recipe is to eat the dish every night for a week and if you find yourself craving more after it’s gone, you know you’ve got a winner. For instance, you know a batch of baked shells is worth sharing with the world (and by “the world” I mean my mother and the three other kind souls that read my blog) when you single-handedly take down three-quarters of the pan and, when they’re finally gone, you find yourself wishing for just one more dinner’s worth. Forgive me for a moment while I lament the fact that these little beauties will not be my dinner again tonight.
When I was 20, I spent a semester in Florence, Italy. I arrived a fairly committed vegetarian but within a week or 2, there I was, debating the merits of Prosciutto di Parma versus Prosciutto di San Daniele at the market, working up the nerve to try a tripe sandwich, and being schooled on how to chop chicken livers with a mezzaluna to make the ubiquitous crostini toscani. Needless to say, it was an exciting time in my life.