Simple.
Oh, a number of times has this adjective cropped up in my blog posts. In my anniversary post, I decreed fancy twists on simplicity the sole ruler of culinary empires, that gourmet cuisine stems from ungarnished beginnings.
Simple is what, by chance, drew me to this recipe.
This weekend, I searched recipe cards to find something to make for my father. His notorious love of all things fruits and vegetables led me to the crossroad of apple and cinnamon. Torn between 4 different types of apple cinnamon cake (four step apple pound cake with almond streusel, fluffy apple crumble bars, peanut butter-apple snack cake, and earl grey apple loaf), I mulled over the recipes, read each word carefully, played around with measurements, thought Can I change this from a 9x13 pan to a loaf pan?
The hours pedaled away, the shadows on the patio table changed, and I was no closer to deciding what to make. On a whim, I checked another blog, Smitten Kitchen, an old favorite of mine, and found a recipe labelled "Mom's Apple Cake."
How funny, I thought, my mother used to make apple cake too.
At first glance, the recipe seemed straightforward: only two bowls, no stovetop required, which, as much as I appreciate brown butter, is a heaven sent on a hot summer day.
As I read over the recipe, I noted how similar the ingredients were to my own mother's cake recipe. Could it be the same? I wondered and decided the only way to find out was crack eggs and preheat the oven.
So I set out the ingredients on the kitchen table and sat down on a rickety off-white chair and started peeling apples.
When we were little, my mother used to make a cake, much like this one, in a large cake pan. She would nestle peeled apple slices on half the cake. My father has always been fond of apple in cakes. On the other half, my mother would let my sisters and I shower the batter with rainbow nonpareils. And every time she made the cake, the house would roar in celebration. Eager to take part in the preparation, I picked up a teaspoon, tugged on the ends of my mother's dress, and asked, "Can I help?"
I'd happily mix the sugar and butter together; mother would grate orange zest, afraid my tiny hands would face the savagery of the sharp grater blades. And after we had scraped down the bowl, making sure every last drop of batter was in the cake pan, I'd sit by the oven, buzzing with excitement to see the cake in all its raised baked glory.
My mother had the recipe memorized. She never glanced at a card or used a measuring cup but the cake was magic each and every time. She cracked eggs with clean lines, no crumbling shell pieces to scavenge the batter for. She never made a mess: the flour never puffed onto her apron, milk never splashed on the counter.
Her cake was my first baking expedition. I remember the joy; I remember the mystery, the curiosity.
So imagine my joy yesterday when I scooped the batter into the bundt pan and noticed the similarity of its consistency. Just like mom's.
Imagine my joy at how the flavors swirled in the heating oven, a sugary scent wafting through the house. Just like mom's.
Imagine my joy when I took my first bite. Just like mom's.
This apple cake is a song; it sings the same lyrics of my mother's cake. It is dense, a pound cake that smells of sugar, cinnamon, and juicy roasted apples. The inside a soft pillow, the outside delectably crunchy. The bottom is a perfectly cracked golden brown. The hint of vanilla and the touch of orange are the notes that bind the plain flour and sugar together.
The crunchy edges of the cake, the fluffy interior, and the apples hidden within are a friendship bracelet of their own kind. By far, the best kitchen pairing.
Maybe I'm bias because this cake is not just flour and sugar to me, it's nostalgia: a small apartment kitchen and inklings of after school memories.
Or perhaps, maybe, bias doesn't need to be factored into the equation. Perhaps there is no equation.
Simple.
Do yourself, your family, and your friends a favor and make this cake.
I hope you wait, smiling, by the oven door, just like I did.
Thank you for reading. Enjoy your baking.
-Susan
The link to the recipe on Smitten Kitchen's blog: http://smittenkitchen.com/blog/2008/09/moms-apple-cake/print/
