French Apple Pie Cake

I’m a pretty sentimental little bastard, and food ties in nicely with my Sheldon-Cooper-esque, nostalgia-driven obsession with days of yore.

Years ago my parents had one of those old-school dishwashers that you had to roll across the kitchen, and attach it to the kitchen sink in order to kick off the wash cycle.  Later on when they replaced the Mesozoic appliance, my Dad harvested the wooden top, and re-purposed it into a ginormous cutting board, and gave it to me.  It remains one of my most prized possessions, despite the fact that it’s an absolute bitch to clean, as it doesn’t even come close to fitting into the sink.  It has also served well as an ersatz baby gate when friends with kids have visited. 

Despite the fact that it’s so gargantuan, and could likely serve as the barrier door on a nuclear bunker, I’m highly protective of it, and God help anyone who thinks they can use it without my express permission/supervision.

While I’m talking about sentiment (and neurosis), I also have a mug from my late grandparents.  Technically it’s a coffee mug, but since my grandparents were very English, and rather proper, we only ever had tea in their company.  As such, the mug may only contain tea.  In the years since, I’ve managed to find more pieces in the same pattern, and I will allow other beverages to be served in the mugs.  EXCEPT the one from my grandparents.  Yes, I’ve memorized the position of the manufacturers mark on the bottom of the mug, and know which one is sanctified.

So yes, I’m a bit psycho.

However, in amongst the random synaptic firings in my brain I did manage to get one oddity which has proved quite useful: a pretty damned fine memory, if I do say so myself.  And it is that oddly-honed attribute which is responsible for this recipe seeing the light of day.

I remembered this cake showing up in my school lunches a couple times back in elementary school (we’re talking mid 80’s here, people).  At the time it wasn’t so much the cake itself I was in love with, but the caramelized coconut topping.

I called my Mom to ask for the recipe,

“Do you still have the recipe for French Apple Cake?”

“The what?”

“You must remember.  The one with the coconut on top…?”

We went back and forth for a while, and over the course of several phone calls.  My vague descriptions of the recipe card in her handwriting, clearly saying “French Apple…”.  Her phone calls back with random recipes for carrot cake, coffee cake, and then eventually we both gave up, even though it was driving us both crazy by this time.

Ten minutes after we’d hung up, my phone rang again, and I answered, hearing two words that made these wistful little toes wiggle “Got it!”.

Apparently I inherited my obsessive nature from my Mom, as she pretty much conducted an archaeological dig on her vaults of recipes until she found this misplaced (but not forgotten) gem.

French Apple Pie Cake

For the cake:

·      4 cups chopped apples

·      2 cups brown sugar

·      1 cup oil

·      2 eggs (beaten)

·      2 tsp vanilla

·      1 cup chopped walnuts (optional)

·      2 cups flour

·      2 tsp baking soda

·      1 tsp salt

·      2 tsp cinnamon

For the topping:

·      ½ cup melted butter

·      2/3 cup brown sugar

·      ¼ cup cream or milk

·      ½ cup shredded coconut

Preheat oven to 350°.  Grease & flour a 9x13 pan.

In a large bowl mix the brown sugar with the chopped apple.  Add oil, eggs and vanilla, and stir/fold mixture until evenly dispersed.

In a separate bowl sift together flour, soda, salt and cinnamon.

Add to apple mixture, folding immediately until blended.  The batter will be sticky and somewhat stiff.

Pour batter into prepared pan, using a spatula to push batter to edges and corners, and bake for 40-60 minutes.  Test with a toothpick for doneness.  No batter on the toothpick?  It’s done.

Meanwhile, mix topping ingredients. 

When the cake comes out of the oven, switch on the broiler (leaving rack in the middle of the oven).

Spread topping ingredients on the warm cake, and place under the broiler.  When mixture is bubbling and bronzed, remove and allow to cool before cutting and serving.

It turns out my memory did fail me somewhat on this one.  The actual cake is delightful!  Carrot-cakey in texture and moistness.  Capped off with the coconut, DAMN!  Fine little piece of baking it be!

…and a little light S&M for dessert

Pardon me whilst I wax nostalgic for a moment.  I have very fond memories of pretty much living on the beach during the summers of my childhood.  My grandparents lived on the waterfront, and my brother and I would spend every chance we possibly could running around on the sandbar which was revealed at low tide, building sandcastles, terrorizing the living crap out of every piece of sea life we came across, and drinking buckets full of lukewarm Tang which my Gramma would bring down in a plastic pitcher.

There are so many smells that I associate with those long lazy days, that it’s hard to choose a favourite.  Even the stranger ones seem to hit a happy place in my brain: the aforementioned tang of Tang, the saline waft of hot sun on rocks, the sweatiness of creosote on the pilings which lined the front of my grandparents yard, an occasional lilt of wild tea roses, and the omnipresent mingling of dry tree needles, moss and sun-scorched grass.  Then, at this time of summer, there would be the Dominator/trix of all the other smells: The ripening blackberries.

My brother and I would scour the beach for the best, most untouched patches of the blackberries, cramming our faces until our cheeks and chins were stained crimson, and we pooped purple for a week.  We took few precautions towards the thorns, and barely noticed the shred marks, which made our skin look like we’d tangled with a herd of particularly temperamental felines.

So, you can imagine my delight the other day while walking home with my groceries, and that familiar sweetness plucked at my nose.  Baskets of fresh local blackberries had made it to one of my local markets.

Needless to say, I picked some up, and brought them home to mingle with some fresh-from-the-yard blueberries which were just waiting for a purpose.

Thus S&M Crisp was on the dessert menu for that evening.  So titled because the berries were black and blue, and also as a small homage to those summer days long since past when my brother and I would endure excruciating pain for those moments of blissful berry-induced nirvana.

S&M Crisp

Preheat oven to 375°

Filling:

·      Blueberries and blackberries.  Yeah, ummm…I really don’t know a specific quantity. I conferred with my Mom on this one, and she’s in agreement that it's up to you.  You could use enough berries to make up anywhere between 2 and 4 cups.  Depending on the pan you use, and how thick you want the fruit layer.

·      1-2 Tbsp cornstarch

·      2 Tbsp sugar.  You may need more sugar depending on the sweetness of the fruit.

 Toss the fruit with cornstarch to coat, and then 2 Tbsp sugar.  

Crust:

·      3/4 c brown sugar

·      3/4 c flour

·      3/4 c oats

·      1/4 c softened butter (maybe a Tbsp or so more for blendability)

Smoosh crust ingredients together in bowl until blended.  I just use my hands.  Way easier to knead it together than have a brain aneurism with a spoon or spatula.

Bursting berries, ochred oats and failed photo focus

Sprinkle pieces of crust mix on top of prepared fruit, and chuck into preheated oven for 30-40 minutes.  Remove when crust is handsomely golden.  It’s also a good idea to place a cookie sheet underneath if you're using a shallow pan, as the fruit juices can blurp over the sides.

 

Okay, so I took the easy way out and bought the berries rather than put myself through the iron maiden of a blackberry patch.  However, this is my mothers recipe, and since I haven't given her credit for it until now, I think that's enough of an exercise in potential masochism to make up for it.

My friend Manuela was on hand to partake in the devouring of this little pan full of happiness.  She later recreated this at home, creating a vegan version by substituting a soy butter for the real butter.  I think the bible speaks of butter omission as one of the greater sins, but for vegans and/or the lactose intolerant I guess it's good you have non-cramping options.

Photo and vegan alternative courtesy of Manuela

Do what you love... just make sure it's easy.

There’s a lot to be said for doing/creating what you love.  Whether as a career, as a hobby, or even in what you prepare in the kitchen, that sense of joy which only comes from willing purpose or accomplishment is key.

Trust me on this one.  As one who possesses a disastrous attention span, yet a creative spirit which has been said to be in a state of perpetual overdrive, I can safely attest to this.  The fact that you’re reading these words is my testimony to this sentiment.  Do I make money from this?  No.  Am I a professional?  No.  My love for all things food-related, as well as the written word are what compel me to put fingertip to keystroke, and a hope that maybe someone somewhere will glean something from my prattle.

Accomplishment doesn’t need to be synonymous with elaborate.  In fact, the simplest, almost seemingly stupid efforts can often yield the greatest accolades.  Don’t believe me?  Remember that school project you busted your ass on?  You stayed up late at night perfecting your diorama, sugar-cube castle, potato-powered lightbulb, and the kid who got all the attention was the one who rubbed a balloon on his head and stuck it to a wall.  Meanwhile your potato did little more than ooze starch and attract flies.  Or as I mentioned in the previous post: kids who play with the box the expensive toy came in.

Which brings us to todays post.

On occasion my husband takes treats in for his coworkers.  Usually it’s as a form of enticement to lure people into one of his teaching sessions.  He would often be up, late at night, scouring through recipe books, and would then disappear in a dense cloud of flour and icing sugar.  Emerging only sometime after midnight, with a pan of sugary bribery cooling on the counter. 

He got great reviews, but as with all things, there were the naysayers: “I could do this better…” “Oh yeah, well I make a _____ which is amazing…”

The gauntlet was thrown down.  A friendly bake-off was suggested, and my hubby promptly found himself in a very distracted room of inattentive, tittering, scheming would-be bakers.

Cut to the night before said bake-off.  Hubber was tired, and uninspired.  Every recipe in the “dress to impress” repertoire required a few hours of time which would inevitably cut in on the precious downtime of the eve.

I threw this little suggestion his way as a saviour of sanity, sleep and effort.

Hello Dolly Bars

½ cup butter

1 cup graham crumbs

2 cups chocolate chips

1 cup coconut

1 cup walnuts

1 can sweetened condensed milk

First of all you’ll want to make a crust.  The butter and graham crumbs listed above are for making a quick graham crust.  If you’re feeling somewhat ambitious, I’d recommend making a shortbread base instead, and partially baking it before adding the other toppings (as shown here).

*patpatpatpatpat*

If proceeding with the graham version, melt the butter, mix with graham crumbs and pat into a 9x13 inch baking pan.

Next scatter the chocolate, coconut and nuts over the base.  Most recipes encourage you to do it in layers, but I like to mix them together in a bowl first, and add the condensed milk to the mixture.  If you prefer the layer option, simply do so, then pour the condensed milk evenly over the top.

Bake at 350° for about 25 minutes, or until the condensed milk has bronzed itself into caramel.

Please also note that there is absolute flexibility in these ingredients.  Pecans often replace the walnuts.  Sometimes butterscotch chips make up about half the chip ratio.  Just have a good quantity of your fillers on hand and it’s kinda hard to go wrong.

By the way, he won.  Which I take as “WE won”.  Credit where credit is due, after all.