It’s just as well I am a woman without much blogging ambition because this will not get pinned, Tumblred or tweeted.  Apple Cakes aren’t flashy to look at, but you will love me for sharing this recipe.

And, I suppose, that’s where my ambition lies.  I’m imagining you giving these a go and smiling.  They are lovely.  I made these on Saturday morning and they were gone before lunch.

Like my Mum’s Lemon Meringue Pie, the recipe comes from my mum’s wonderfully be-splattered 1973 edition of Readers’ Digest ‘The Cookery Year’.  You can tweak it.  A few sultanas and sprinkle of cinnamon are all reasonable additions, but I like it best with the smooth apple sauce filling of the original.

For me it all begins with Bramley Apples.  That’s a cooking apple.  The kind that turns to mush when cooked and is unpleasantly sharp if you try to eat one raw.

Until I sacrificed my apple tree for an extension to our kitchen ten years ago I’ve always lived in a house with a Bramley apple tree in the garden.  It’s an old variety, first grown in Mary Ann Brailsford’s garden in Nottinghamshire.   Matthew Bramley bought the cottage in 1846.  In 1856, Henry Merryweather asked if he could take cuttings from the tree and sell the apples.  Matthew obviously gave his permission and the apples still bear the name ‘Bramley’.  And that original tree ..?  Still bearing fruit.

You’ll need about three.

Peeled, cored and chopped.  Later in the year, windfall apples are fine.  You just cut out all the bruised bits.

Two tablespoons of light brown muscovado sugar.

Then, over a gentle heat, soften to a purée.  Once smooth, it needs to cool before you can use it to fill the Apple Cakes.

It’s an old fashioned recipe and asks for Plain Flour, Bicarbonate of Soda and Cream of Tartar instead of Self Raising Flour.  I rather like that about it.  Sift everything together, including the salt, to get it all evenly mixed.

Incidentally, if you bake infrequently you might want to consider using Plain Flour and adding your own raising agent as a matter of course – just like Grandma did.  Baking Powder works well for anything that doesn’t need a ‘fluffy’ rise (like biscuits) but if you want an airy sponge it’s one part Bicarbonate of Soda to two parts Cream of Tartar.

The original recipe calls for margarine, but I can’t bring myself to do it.  Old fashioned, maybe, but I’m still a creature of my time.

Unsalted butter, cut into smallish cubes.  Then, rub in.

What you’re actually doing by ‘rubbing in’ is coating tiny bits of flour with fat – before you add any liquid.  Think of it like a raincoat!  It’s to stop liquid penetrating the flour.  Liquid + flour =  gluten proteins.  And gluten proteins give you tough pastry.  Roughly!!

Or you can pulse in a food processor.  Whichever method you choose – you are looking for something that resembles ‘fine breadcrumbs’.

Add caster sugar and mix.

Then one beaten egg – and mix with a round bladed knife.

It comes together into a ball of dough – ish.  The last bit you’ll need to squish together with your hand.  Since I’ve still not managed to do that while holding a camera …

The original recipe suggests you roll out the dough between sheets of ‘waxed paper’ as it crumbles easily.  Oddly, considering I have a fondness for rolling pastry between sheets of cling film, I don’t.  Until today I haven’t looked closely at the recipe and my mum never did so it never occurred to me.  I expect she’s have thought it a waste of waxed paper ..

Grease “16 patty tins”.  I’m quoting.  I haven’t heard anyone call a shallow bun tin a ‘patty tin’ for years.  16 is a bit annoying, I know, when a standard baking tray is 12.

Cut out 32 circles with a 2½ inch (7cm) cutter.  Knead the trimmings back together and continue cutting until you have 32.  Tops and bottoms are the same size.  Use a palette knife to transfer 16 to the prepared tins.

And add a generous teaspoon of the cold apple purée.

Then cover with the ‘lid’.  It’s self sealing.  You don’t have to do anything but lay the remaining 16 circles over the top.

Sprinkle with caster sugar.

Want a peek mid bake?

Bake in a pre-heated oven at Gas Mark 6/400ºF/200ºC for 15 minutes.  That’s a moderately hot oven in ‘ye olde speake’ – so I bake on the fourth set of runners in the Aga Roasting Oven for a reduced 10 minutes cooking time.

Leave to cool for a couple of minutes before easing out with a palette knife.

Leave to cool on a wire rack.

The pressed glass cake stand is optional, but it feels right.  What is important is to eat them ‘fresh’ as they go stale quickly.

Eat.

Apple Cakes – Makes 16

(Recipe taken from the 1973 edition of Readers’ Digest ‘The Cookery Year’)

• 1lb/450g cooking apples
• 2 tablespoon of soft brown sugar
• 8oz/225g plain flour
• 2 level teaspoons of cream of tartar
• 1 level teaspoon of bicarbonate of soda
• Pinch of salt
• 40z/115g unsalted butter
• 4oz/115g caster sugar
• 1 egg
• Caster sugar for dusting

Peel and core the cooking apples and place in a saucepan with 2 tablespoons of soft brown sugar.  Cook over a low heat until you have a smooth purée and leave to cool.

Pre-heat your oven to Gas Mark 6/400ºF/200ºC.

Grease your ‘patty tins’ – that’s a shallow bun tin – with melted butter.

Sift together the flour, cream of tartar, bicarbonate of soda and salt.  Cut the butter into pieces and rub into the flour until you have something approaching fine breadcrumbs.

Stir in the sugar.

Using a blunt knife, mix in the beaten egg to form a soft dough.  Knead lightly and roll out on a floured surface to an eighth of an inch (there is no symbol for that!)/3mm.  Cut out 32 2½”/7cm circles.

Lift the bases into the greased tins and add a generous teaspoon of the apple purée.  Place the remaining 16 circles on top.  It’s self sealing so you have to do nothing but lay them over the purée-filled bases.

Sprinkle with caster sugar and bake for 15 minutes.  (Aga – Roasting Oven – fourth set of runners for a reduced 10 minutes.)

Leave to cool briefly before, using a palette knife, removing to a wire rack.  Serve on the day you bake.

Eat.

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Still cooking in ‘real’ time (must stop that) … but that means, here in the UK, it was Mothering Sunday yesterday.  In fact, for us we’d also decided to celebrate my eldest son’s 22nd birthday – a little late – so the seven of us would be together.

Dom is nothing if not predictable regarding his choice of ‘birthday’ food.  Roast beef it was – and I took out a second mortgage and bought a rib.  For those of you worrying I was over-looked – I woke up to a sausage ciabatta with caramelised red onion.  (Thanks Liddy!)

Roast Potatoes always seem a bit-too-much when combined with Yorkshire Pudding.  Since I’m not allowed to cook Roast Beef without Yorkshire Pudding, I tend towards Dauphinoise Potatoes.  I don’t go there if I’m serving my beef with Cauliflower Cheese or cauliflower in a white sauce, but since I wasn’t …

This is also lovely with Roast Lamb, by the way.

Potatoes cooked à la Dauphinoise is a ‘classic’ and is a speciality of Lans-en-Vercor, Villard-de Lans, Autrans and Sassenage.  If you’re a purist you’ll want to butter a gratin dish, rub it with a peeled garlic clove, arrange slices of potatoes and cover it with single cream.  Gratin Dauphinois is made with a mixture of milk, cream and eggs.

I’m not a purist.

It starts with potato.  I prefer a ‘fluffy’ potato, because I like a softer texture Dauphinoise.  Exactly the same as I use for chips and mashed potato.  Peeled.  Roughly, I use about 100g of potato per serving.  It’s super rich – and since I’m cooking for people I care about I don’t want to lead them into temptation.

A mandolin makes easy work of slicing the potatoes into 4mm discs.  Cutting the slices evenly means the potato will cook in the same time.  That’s important as a Dauphinoise which is a combination of mushy and under-cooked potato isn’t worth the calories.  Next best would be a food processor.  By hand .. best of luck!

I’m firmly in the camp of don’t rinse.  I want the starch to thicken the cream.

I always pre-cook my sliced potatoes in the creamy milk because it removes potential trauma of under-cooked and/or curdled Dauphinoise.  I use a mix of milk and double cream because I rarely have single cream in my fridge and it’s become a habit.

And I like a hit of garlic – which I grate in.

I bring the creamy milk to a boil.  Season with salt and pepper, to taste.

And add the potato slices.  It’s worth putting them in with a bit of care as they can often stick together.  You want each disc to be coated in the creamy mixture.  The cream should just be able to cover the top of the potatoes if you push them down with the back of a spoon.  Over the lowest of low heats, cook until the potatoes are almost cooked.  Mine go into the Simmering Oven of my Aga and I leave them there for 15 minutes.  On a hob, you’ll need to give it a bit of care or it’ll catch on the bottom.

Pour the almost-cooked potato slices into a buttered dish.  Traditionally, you’d be aiming for a 5cm depth.

I’m a real convert to ceramic-coated saucepans for ‘milky’ sauces.  Even so, here’s the bottom of my pan.  If any of the slices have ‘caught’ leave them behind.

Then it’s into the oven.  I use my Aga Baking Oven.  Conventionally, it’s Gas Mark 2/150ºC/300ºF.

For about 45 minutes – 1 hour.  Mine was slightly less than 5cm in depth and took just 30 minutes on the rack at the bottom of the Aga Baking Oven.

Eat.

Dauphinoise Potatoes – Serves 7

• A generous knob of unsalted butter
• 2 garlic cloves, peeled and grated
• 100ml/3½oz full fat milk
• 300ml/10fl oz double cream
• 700g/1½lb ‘floury’ potatoes
• Salt and Pepper, to taste.

Pre-heat the oven to Gas Mark 2/150ºC/300ºF.

Butter your ovenproof dish.

Peel and evenly slice the potatoes to about 4mm.

Put the cream, milk and grated garlic into a saucepan and bring to a boil over a low heat.  Season with salt and pepper, to taste.

Without rinsing the potato, add the slices to the cream and milk.  Press down.  The potatoes should be just covered.  Bring slowly back to the boil and simmer on the lowest-of-low heat for about 15 minutes until the potatoes are almost cooked.  The starch in the potatoes will thicken the creamy milk.

Transfer to the buttered dish and bake for 45 minutes to 1 hour until the top is browned.

Eat.

(Any leftovers can be re-heated at Gas Mark 1/140ºC/275ºF for 40 minutes or so.  Served with a crisp green salad it makes a lovely vegetarian lunch.)

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The great thing about Guacamole is there is no one recipe for it, which means you can’t be wrong.  Aztecs were eating this in the sixteenth century and it seems like the only thing you absolutely have to have is avocado and salt.

I like mine ‘chunky’, which is definitely a reaction against the commercially produced gloopy stuff.  Given a choice, I also prefer mine on top of a bowl of chilli con carne … but here I’m serving it up as a snack.  I’ve no idea what big sporting something is on TV at the moment, but my boys are watching it.  I really wish I liked sport.  I see other people enjoying themselves, but I just don’t get it.  I grew up with a mum who loved watching it.  Any televised athletics meet and all of Wimbledon meant we didn’t get fed as my mum had to sit inches from the screen exhibiting a noisy enthusiasm which mystified me.  But, and this is a big but, I really don’t mind other people doing their thing.  I simply hit the kitchen, shut the door on it all, and provide snacks.  I’m a committed ‘feeder’.

The only knack to making great guacamole is getting a ripe avocado.  They’re like pears in that they don’t ripen on the tree.  You harvest them unripe and have to wait.  A brown bag and a banana (apparently there is a reason for that but  I’d have to google to tell you and you might as well do that yourself) will speed the process up if you are in a hurry.  Otherwise, buy your avocado and store at room temperature. Colour can be misleading.  It’s the squeeze.  Probably the best way to learn is to buy unripe avocado and give a daily squeeze.  A ripe avocado will give to gentle pressure.  Once your avocado is ripe you can slow the process down by popping them in the fridge.  If the surface is pitted it would suggest the fruit is bruised and/or overripe – so not what you want.  Hass is generally considered the best but, honestly, I buy what there is.

Give the avocados a rinse under cold running water.  Then slice in half and scoop.  Or quarters and peel.  I tend to start at the narrow end and slide the knife around the stone.  I don’t understand the ‘knife’ trick to remove the stone because a ripe fruit will yield its stone easily.  I just slot a spoon underneath.  (The exception to that is if you’re intending to use just the one half of the fruit.  In that case, leave the stone in place and wrap tightly in cling film.  Air is the enemy and an empty ‘stone-hole’ won’t help.)

Since I’m making Guacamole and am going to squish it I use a knife to cut a hashtag formation across the flesh before scooping it all out into a bowl.

The traditional method of making guacamole, I gather, is to use a molcajete.  I don’t have one.  For the curious, a molcajete is a three-legged round bowl carved out of basalt.  The pestle is made of the same lava rock and is called a tejolote.  I have got a pestle and mortar, which might be a reasonable substitute but I tend to make Guacamole in industrial quantities so it’s not big enough.  My avocado chunks go in a big bowl.

Of all the optional added extras, I like to add a little onion.  I choose what’s labelled in the UK ‘Continental Salad Onions’.  They look like a fat spring onion.  Liddy, my daughter, really likes to add tomato and I’m neutral to negative.  Out of season tomatoes taste of nothing.  Chilli – yes.  Lots.  I tend to go for Jalapeño Chillies because they are easy to find.  The only way to gauge the ‘heat’ is to cut a nibble off the end and try it. Lime  juice – I use the bottled stuff because I’m not prepared to pay for fresh limes unless I’m using the zest.  I also have no objection to lemon juice if I’m all out of lime. Garlic – no. Coriander (that’s cilantro in NA speak) – absolutely.

With one eye on the traditional method of pummelling everything in a molcajete I put a spoonful of salt, coriander and chilli into my pestle and mortar.

Bash to a mush.  Then add a squeeze of lime juice.  I now have a liquid-ish paste to coat all the avocado chunks.  Add that to the avocado.  Then it’s in with my fingers and I squish.  I thought a fork looked more photogenic, but it isn’t what I do.  Besides I had to have a clean hand to take the photo.

I never use a processor because it’s all too easy to end up with baby food.

Chillies, continental spring onions, coriander and seeded tomato go in next.

And mix together gently.  Add a little more lime juice to taste.  I think Guacamole should taste ‘zingy’.

And fresh.  It really doesn’t keep well. I usually make and serve immediately.  If you really do need to put it by for an hour or so, then  cover it tightly in cling film.  You need to exclude all air so make sure it touches the surface of your Guacamole or you’ll come back and find an unappetising brown sludge.

Eat.

 

Guacamole – a bowlful, easily doubled.

• 1 large ‘continental salad onion’, chopped finely
• 3 Jalapeño chillies, chopped finely (use less if yours are particularly fiery)
• Large handful of fresh coriander, chopped (about 40g)
• 3 large ripe avocados or 5 small ones (Hass is generally considered the creamiest)
• 1 tomato, finely chopped – optional
• Malden sea salt, to taste
• Lime juice, to taste

Begin by making a spicy paste.  Into a pestle and mortar, put a heaped teaspoon of salt, Jalapeño chilli, coriander and Malden sea salt. Grind, then add a tablespoon of lime juice.

Place cubes of ripe avocado in a bowl and add the spicy paste.  Using your fingers, mash to the consistency you want your Guacamole to finish with.

Fold in what is left of the Jalapeño chillies, the coriander and the ‘Continental spring onions’.  Taste.  Add more salt and lime juice, to taste.  I rarely add salt and often add an additional tablespoon of lime juice.

Best served immediately.  (If you must prepare ahead, it will survive for a limited amount of time if you cover the surface of the Guacamole with cling film and store in the fridge.)

Eat.

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