Martha, Martha, Martha; a review of Martha Stewart's Cookies

As of late, Martha Stewart, baking and food blogs seem to go hand in hand. With Sunday's launch of the cookie-centric contest at marthastewart.com, it is an appropriate opportunity to take a closer look at the prize up for grabs; copies of Martha Stewart's Cookies (Clarkson Potter, 2008). The latest cookbook from the editors of Martha Stewart Living, it is a comprehensive collection of 175 their most versatile and tempting treats.

With its ingenious imaged-based table of contents, coupled with chapter headings organized by cookie texture, this book speaks directly to cravings and their indulgence. I have read some recipes delightfully described as "everyday", a phrase that evokes idyllic notions of an overfilled cookie jar; these are chocolate chip cookies in a myriad of variations, fudgy brownies, delicate sugar cookies and shortbread. Other recipes range from the festive (from Crumbly and Sandy: Vanilla-Bean Spritz Wreaths) to the elegant (from Crisp and Crunchy: Sweet Cardamom Crackers) to the downright decadent (from Rich and Dense: Chocolate Pistachio Cookies).

In regards to content it should be noted that some of these recipes have been previously published in various publications under the Martha Stewart mantle, specifically the special edition Holiday Cookie series. Some readers could be frustrated by this repetition, while others may appreciate having their best-loved favourites in a trade paperback version.

The layout of the recipes is clear and concise, each featuring a photo of the finished product. Although some follow the expected Martha Stewart aesthetic of colourful but simple styling, others depart from this look entirely. These shots are mid-range to close up photographs against a white background which, in comparison to the charm of the former, do seem a bit austere. That said, the minimalist approach does highlight the characteristic textures of the cookies quite well.

Two appendices, one on packaging and the other with information on techniques and cook's tools, are helpful additions. Inspired presentation ideas show off the cookies beautifully for giving, and the instructions frequently include step-by-step photos. The baking notes serve as a useful introduction to the novice baker and as helpful reminders to those more experienced.

In the name of research, the Peanut Butter and Jelly Bars (above and below) were the first to be made from this book. The luscious batter inspired nostalgic thoughts of childhood. Its rich scent reminiscent of the best peanut butter cookie crossed with Reese Pieces; the sort that has greedy fingers fighting over rights to lick the bowl. The finished cookie lived up to the charms of the dough, with tender cookie underneath, a layer of tangy-sweet jam in between and the salty crunch of peanuts and crisp crumble as a crowning crust. Perfect for a lunchbox or after-school treat, these cookies will surely become a household classic.



Peanut Butter and Jelly Bars
From Martha Stewart Holiday Cookies 2001.

The recipe featured in the book is subject to copyright but is quite similar to this version.

Notes:

• I used a combination of mixed berry jam and homemade mixed berry compote for the filling as I wanted a bit of tartness to offset the buttery-rich cookie layer.

• Toffee bits, coconut, honey-roasted nuts or white chocolate chips would be a wonderful substitution or addition to the peanut topping. For those looking for true excess, a chocolate spread or dulce de leche could be used instead of jam filling.


Martha Stewarts's Cookies is on sale now.

Baking, Sunday style

After weeks of a heat that turned once-lush lawns to straw, this past Sunday dawned misty and gray. A constant drizzle pattered its way through the leaves, and the mercifully cool air smelled of damp earth.

It was a day to spend indoors, in the comfortable routine of business about the house, getting bits and pieces in order and lazily flipping through the weekend newspapers. By far, my favourite sort of day.

As far as food went, our menu was decided by consensus - following only our inclinations without worry of schedules or agenda. Immediate and extended family members stopped by for a cup of of tea, a chat or general diversion.

Some time in the early afternoon I caught wind of collected whispers, mentioned cravings for something as a snack, a cake perhaps. Nothing decadent, just a nibble of something a bit sweet.

Banana bread; this old fashioned loaf seemed the perfect fit for a rain-soaked Sunday afternoon. Studded with moist chunks of banana, their richness undercut by the acid twang of yogurt, this was the sort of loaf that sits on the counter with a knife nearby. For the remainder of the day we snacked, coming back for another slice, another crumb, whenever temptation arose.

Yogurt banana bread
This recipe yields a meltingly moist loaf with a cake-like texture. However it may look though, do not be fooled. This bread is not the overly sweet, dessert variety. The perfect partner to coffee, it is much more subtle in its charm.

Ingredients
1 cup all purpose flour
1/2 cup whole wheat flour
1 1/4 teaspoons salt
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon ground cinnamon
1/4 teaspoon ground nutmeg
3 large, ripe bananas, mashed
1/2 cup well-drained yogurt (see note)
4 1/2 ounces unsalted butter at room temperature, plus more for greasing the pan
3/4 cup granulated sugar
1/4 cup firmly-packed brown sugar
2 eggs
1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Lightly butter a standard, 9"x5"x3" loaf pan.

In a medium bowl, sift together the flours, salt, baking powder and spices.

In another bowl, mix the yogurt and banana together until well blended. Set aside.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with the flat beater, beat the butter and sugar on medium speed, scraping down the sides of the bowl, until light and fluffy. It should take 3 to 4 minutes. Add the eggs, one at a time, with the mixer on medium speed and beating well after each addition. Add the vanilla and beat to combine.

Add half the flour mixture to the butter, beating on medium-low until blended. Scrape down the sides of the bowl, add the bananas and sour cream, beating until distributed. Add in the remaining flour, still stirring on medium-low until just combined. Transfer the batter to the prepared pan.

Bake in a preheated oven for about 1 hour and 10-15 minutes, until a cake tester inserted in the centre comes out clean the bread pulls away from the side of the pan. Cool in tin for 10 minutes, then turn out to a rack to cool completely.

Makes 1 loaf.

Notes:

• I used well-drained 1% yogurt.
• For the loaf pictured, the pan was the darker metal kind. For that reason, I reduced the oven temperature by about 15 degrees F to keep the exterior tender and golden. If this is the case with yours, you may need to adjust the cooking time accordingly.

To enjoyable excess

I am passionate about a lot of things. Food, fashion, family and film are all consuming pleasures of mine. But there is something I'm equally fanatical about which might seem somewhat unexpected. I love words.

Language, jargon, definitions - I find all of these simply fascinating, and have for as long as I can remember. Back in school, in Linguistics and Latin classes, lectures on morphology and derivatives were red letter days on the calendar.

Yes, I know. I'm a geek.

But I cannot help myself. I adore nuanced meanings, the way that one right word can say so much more than paragraphs and paragraphs of the wrong ones. A well-chosen phrase can be a study in succinct economy or art itself.

Mellifluous is as poetic as its definition. While lush is lovely, verdant is all the more exuberant in its profusion.

Lately though, one word has been (excuse the pun) on our lips most often - surfeit. With the local trees and fields heavy with fruit, the early summer harvests of berries, currants, sweet peas and cherries are gracing our table. Truly nothing less than luxuriant abundance, we're most often seen feasting on this bounty of beautiful produce out of hand.

However, when recently bestowed with not one, not two, but three baskets of garnet-hued cherries, I felt the little jewels deserved a bed of buttery cake to fully appreciate their depth and colour. Sweet and plump, the gorgeous orbs almost melt, turning luscious and silky while staining the almond-rich batter with their juices.

One taste, and even words aren't necessary - just enjoy.

Almond butter cake with cherries

Ingredients

1 1/2 sticks (12 tablespoons) unsalted butter, at room temperature, plus extra for greasing the pan
1 1/2 cups of granulated sugar, plus extra for preparing the pan
4 large eggs
2/3 cup sour cream
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 teaspoon grated lemon zest
1 cup ground almonds
1 1/4 cups all-purpose flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
2 cups fresh cherries, pitted and split in half
1/3 cup flaked almonds
1 1/2 tablespoons Demerara sugar (optional)

Preheat oven to 350°F (175°C). Generously butter a 10" springform pan, and set aside (see note).

In the bowl of a stand mixer with the paddle attachment, or with a hand beater, cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Lower the speed and add the eggs, one at a time, beating until fully incorporated. Scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed.

In a small bowl, combine the sour cream, vanilla extract and lemon zest.

In another bowl, sift together the almonds, flour, baking powder and salt.

Add half the flour to the butter mixture, beating until blended. Add the sour cream mixture, beating again and scraping down the sides of the bowl. Finish with the remaining flour and stir until just combined.

Spread the batter evenly in the prepared pan. Sprinkle over the cut cherries, the almonds and the Demerara sugar (if using). Bake for approximately 40 minutes, or until lightly golden and a cake tester comes out clean.

Notes:

• For the photograph, I used two 11"x8"x1" removable bottom tart pans. The cakes took about 30 minutes to bake.
• Alternatively, lightly toast the almonds in a dry pan before topping the tart.
• Other fruits, plums and apricots for example, can be substituted.

Getting to know you

Seven years ago Sean gave me one of my most treasured possessions. It was my birthday, and he had found a copy of the out-of-print, rather unknown, favourite book of my childhood.

Whereas my original copy had long ago lost whole sections out of overuse, this new copy was pristine perfection; the story intact and whole again.

Flipping through the pages, my enthusiasm for a tale of little mice and their adventures to a faraway land came rushing back. With the glee of a six-year-old, I pointed out the illustrations that had inspired me the most, explained to him the nuances of each character and hugged the book like the long-lost friend it was.

What made this gift all the more special, was that Sean and I had not known each other in childhood. It was only through my mentioning the book that he realized the importance to me. Having it now was a window to that youth, an opportunity for him to know the girl I had been.

Lucky for me, we have many ‘relics’ of Sean’s early years - our son Benjamin now plays with some of the same toys and is even measured on the same growth chart against which his father stood tall. But beyond all these, one of the most meaningful of legacies are the recipes I have been given by his family.

Whether it be the cheesy pasta salad that appears at every family gathering, or the apple cake that heralds fall, or Grandma's famous (and decadent) butter tarts, each of these recipes is inextricably tied to memories from the family I now call my own. Though unshared by me, I feel a part of those reminisces with each bite, and hopefully in the future, with each time I serve them.

Munching on a bakery-bought cookie a few days ago, I came to think of the recipe for Oatmeal Date Cookies from my dear Mother-in-Law. Passed down from her mother, it was the recipe noted with the scribble “Sean’s favourite” in the margins of their church’s fundraising cookbook.

Chewy, fat and unapologetically old-fashioned, these are the stuff of cookie-jar glory. I have dressed them up a bit with shards of almond butter toffee and chocolate chips; but that was just my mood that day. These are the perfect canvas for whatever strikes your fancy - white chocolate and dried cherries, perhaps? It doesn't matter the specific flavours of your childhood, as long as you remember to visit them once in a while.

Almond toffee oatmeal cookies
My own variation, based upon a recipe by my husband's maternal grandmother. They may look like your typical oatmeal cookies, but the salted toffee adds and unexpected depth of buttery flavour. I prefer some of the toffee pieces on the smaller side, so they melt into the batter when baking.

Ingredients

For the almond butter toffee
1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon granulated sugar
1/4 cup unsalted butter
2 tablespoons water
1/8-1/4 teaspoon salt
1/3 cup flaked almonds

For the cookies
1 cup all-purpose flour
1/2 teaspoon baking powder
1/2 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1/2 cup butter
1/2 cup firmly-packed light brown sugar
2 tablespoons dark corn syrup, golden syrup, honey or maple syrup
1 egg
1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1 1/2 cups old-fashioned rolled oats
3/4 cup chocolate chips
1 batch almond butter toffee, crushed into bits

To make the almond butter toffee

Grease a half sheet pan (13"x18") or cookie sheet.

Combine all ingredients, except the almonds, in a small, heavy bottomed saucepan. Over medium heat, stir until the butter is melted. Reduce the heat to medium-low and continue to cook, stirring occasionally, until a candy thermometer reaches 300ºF (150ºC). This will take about 25-30 minutes. If you do not have a candy thermometer, carefully drip a small amount of the sugar mixture into a cup of cold water; if it has reached the right temperature it will collect into a hard ball.

Meanwhile, in a skillet over medium-high heat, spread the almonds in a single layer. Toss the nuts occasionally to prevent scorching. Once they are light toasted brown and aromatic, remove from pan and set aside.

Mix nuts into butter toffee mixture. Working quickly, spread the toffee over the prepared half sheet pan in a thin layer. It will not fill the entire pan. Set aside to cool completely.

When cooled, break the toffee into irregular bits. I find it easiest to put pieces into a large, loosely sealed food storage bag and pounding the toffee into submission with the bottom of a skillet. You should end up with about 3/4 cup of nubby gravel.


For the cookies

Preheat the oven to 350°F (175°C).

In a medium bowl, sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Set aside.

In the bowl of a mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, or with a hand mixer, cream together the butter, brown sugar and corn syrup until light and fluffy. Scrape down the sides of the bowl as needed. Add the egg, beating well. Mix in vanilla.

With mixer on low speed, add flour mixture and mix until just incorporated. Using a rubber spatula or wooden spoon, stir in the oatmeal, chocolate chips and crushed toffee.

Drop 2 tablespoons of dough into mounds (I use a disher that is 1 1/2” across) onto parchment or silpat lined cookie sheets. Space mounds about 2 inches apart. Bake until lightly golden around the edges, but not crisp, about 10-12 minutes.

Cool on sheets for 5 minutes; transfer to a wire rack to cool completely.

Makes 2 dozen.

Notes:
• If anyone would like Sean’s Grandmother’s original recipe for Oatmeal Date Cookies, please leave a comment to that effect; I would be happy to oblige.
• Due to the buttery toffee, these cookies will melt and spread while baking. If you would like to reshape them, take a wide glass or bowl and swirl the slightly cooled (maybe after 10-15 seconds out of the oven) cookies in a circle. The edges will collect together neatly, as pictured.

There are no small parts, just small ingredients

While it is lovely when expectations are met, the greatest performances are sometimes those that are stumbled upon and steal the show entirely.

To more succinct in this particular case, stumbled upon means came home in our grocery bag.

I had intended to make something to satiate a craving for smoked salmon. I had decided upon a sandwich. I had thought I would thinly slice some red onion, sprinkle over some capers and be done with it.

But then the tomatoes arrived; Sean had gone to the store for provisions, and came back with some of the most gorgeous little beauties from the market. Golden yellow, sunset orange and robustly red, the pint of mixed varietals demanded the spotlight.

Their delicate scent courted centre-stage status; a paltry sandwich seemed too gauche for their charms. And so, the smoked salmon was relegated to the chorus line, providing the backdrop to a tomato salad-crowned tartine.

Like any good production, this light lunch offers a play of dramatic contrasts. Heavily silken folds of salmon are undercut with the twang of fresh chèvre and astringent lemon. Juicy tomatoes rendezvous with their long-time companion sweet basil, and take a tumble with saline capers and spiky, fiery red onion.

While I refrained from a standing ovation, an encore is surely deserved.

Smoked salmon and tomato salad tartine
Please forgive my lack of truly specific quantities; you can treat the list as if each item includes the modifier "or thereabouts". This is one of those dishes for which personal taste is paramount. Choose the proportions that work with your taste to best balance the salty, sour and sweet elements.

Ingredients

For the tomato salad
1 1/2 cups small tomatoes (cherry, grape, strawberry), cut into halves or quarters
1/3 cup small diced red onion
2-3 tablespoons capers, rinsed
Basil, cut into chiffonade
Fresh parsley, minced
Lemon zest
Salt and freshly ground black pepper

For the sandwich
4 tablespoons cream cheese
4 tablespoons chèvre (unaged, fresh)
2 teaspoons Dijon mustard
4 slices country bread, or 2 slices halved if large
4-8 slices smoked salmon, depending on the size
Lemon juice, freshly squeezed

In a small bowl, combine the ingredients for the tomato salad. Toss gently and season with salt (judiciously) and pepper.

Combine the cream cheese, chèvre and Dijon mustard. Beat until fully-blended and light. Season with pepper.

Lightly toast bread slices under a preheated broiler.

Spread cheese mixture over bread. Top with sliced smoked salmon and a squeeze of lemon juice. Pile tomato salad over all and enjoy.

Makes 4 pieces.

Reality bites

Aside from some cursory mentions and to answer specific questions, I have rarely felt the desire to write about this site on this site. Maybe it was because it seemed too self-referential, or maybe it is because I enjoyed the romantic notion that my writing was part of a conversation rather than a post on a computer screen; either way I always felt better in ignoring the technicalities of food blogging and website management.

However, due to a technical glitch, I have had to republish certain articles from my archives. My day has been spent resurrecting old posts, my eyes now sore from scanning old files and rearranging templates.

Since I enjoy the illusion that hides the work that goes into the site and my writing, I must admit I do believe that many of us subscribe to a similar fantasy in regards to the lifestyles behind food blogs. While I can only speak for myself definitively, I am sure that there are others who would admit that not every dish that graces our table is camera-ready, or that every meal eaten out is from a starred restaurant.

How very fitting it is then, that while rooting around for some files to reconstruct the archive I came across this picture for a Mixed Berry Ricotta Fool. A dish made up completely of odds and ends from other dishes featured here, it is a good dose of honesty - I mean, how often does one mention, let alone write about, the humdrum reality of leftovers?

Not every meal I cook is meant for publication; most days (especially in these last few months) I have not been able to enjoy the luxury of planning multi-course meals or experimenting as much as I used to. More often than not the focus of my cooking is to resolve the grumbling of stomachs and the solution lies in whatever is in the fridge. Far from glamorous I know, but closer to the demands of the everyday.

I will admit though, as much as I can recognize this actuality, I have little desire to write or dwell upon it. As shallow as it seems, I would like to continue my daydream that every author behind every site I read is living an utterly fashionable life, that every city is exciting every day, that almost every meal is a success, that any failures are dealt with aplomb and are simply fodder for a rapier wit.

But please do not draw back the curtain on the dirty dishes and take-out meals and the midnight snacks of saltines and peanut butter. While I do believe a good measure of self-awareness and accepting oneself, leftovers and all, let's not go overboard.

My apologies to subscribers of this site for old posts appearing on the site feed. I hope you don't mind the trip down memory lane.

Mixed berry ricotta fool
My own creation. Luscious, yet light, this recipe delivers a perfect balance of flavours and texture.

Blame it on lack of sleep (an infant will do that to you), but while I have the photo, I have no recollection of where I put the exact recipe. The following are estimations.

Ingredients:
1/3 cup of mixed berries
3 tablespoons ricotta
Honey, I believe I used about 1/2 teaspoon, but go with your taste depending on the tartness of the fruit
1/8 teaspoon vanilla
A few grates of lemon zest (optional)

Crush the berries with the back of a fork or in a mortar and pestle to form a coarse purée.

In another bowl, combine ricotta, honey, vanilla and nutmeg (if using). Fold the berry mixture through the ricotta, until marbled well but not completely blended. Check for sweetness and adjust honey if needed.

Spoon on slices of baguette, scones or to top waffles and pancakes.

Serves 1.

Notes:
• Omit the lemon zest and use a few grates of nutmeg for a background note of spice.
• Alternatively this fool can be mounded on split strawberries for a quick snack, multiplied to fill prebaked tart shells, in a napoleon of puff pastry, or between layers of sponge cake. It also makes a simple summer dessert when served in a cup with shortbread or sugar cookies alongside.

Speaking of ...

Sometimes I just get on a kick; I will become obsessed with an ingredient or dish, and eat nothing but variations on a theme. Last year at this time I was all about asparagus. This year, it seems my seasonal love affair is with peas. Since we’re already on the subject, I thought I would present another new favorite recipe for these little darlings.

Pea and ricotta crostini
Fresh with the brightness of lemon and rich with the supple texture of ricotta, these crostini are great as an hors d'oeuvre or starter. Alternatively, serve them as a garnish with a spring minestrone or other broth-based soup.

Ingredients
1 cup petit pois/peas (defrosted if frozen)
3 tablespoons ricotta cheese
Lemon zest (see note)
1-2 teaspoons olive oil
Salt and pepper

To serve
Toasted slices of baguette
Parmesan shavings or shards

In a small pot of boiling salted water, blanch the peas. Cook until tender, approximately 1 to 2 minutes (depending on their size). Once cooked, remove peas to a bowl of ice water to stop the cooking process and set their colour.

In a mortar and pestle, or a small food processor, mash the peas to form a coarse paste. Stir in the ricotta and lemon zest and enough olive oil to reach the desired consistency. Season to taste with salt and freshly ground black pepper.

To serve, mound purée onto slices of freshly toasted baguette and garnish with parmesan cheese.
Makes about 1/2 cup of purée.

Notes:
• I use just a few grates of lemon zest - about 1/8 of a teaspoon or so. It is really to taste, so trust your own judgement. Alternatively you can use a squeeze of lemon juice instead.
• This purée can also be tossed with cooked pasta for a quick supper. In this case, I would add some chopped parsley, whole watercress or torn arugula and additional cheese, with olive oil to loosen.

Plain January Jane

The grey days of January have settled in, and I’m just about ready to wrap myself up in flannel, hunker down and coast my way through the rest of the month. I’m in no mood for fancy; I want goose down, cuddly sweaters and angora socks.

On that same note, there are foods that fit this mood. Without fanfare, they routinely deliver. Simple and to the point, these wallflowers of the recipe file are perennial favourites, but not always the life of the party.

Such is the case with these muffins. Reasonably healthy and utterly flavourful, they offer up a great sense of accomplishment after only a modest amount of effort. Truly, if you can produce warm baked goods in less than 10 minutes of prep time, do you not feel rather smart? I say, all the more time to spend cozied up with that goose down.

While some plans may prevent me from participating, I encourage everyone to check out Sugar Low Friday, hosted by the ever-fab Sam of Becks & Posh. The one-time event will be held on January 27, 2006, details to be found through the link.

Banana-Cranberry Bran Muffins

Ingredients
1 1/4 cups (300 ml) unbleached all-purpose flour (you can also use whole wheat)
1 tablespoon (15 ml) baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt (2.5 ml)
1/4 cup canola or vegetable oil
1/3 cup honey or granulated sugar (or up to 1/2 cup if you prefer sweeter and depending on the bananas)
1 egg
1 cup (250 ml) milk
2 ripe bananas, mashed
1 1/2 cups (375 ml) flaked bran cereal
1/2 cup (125 ml) dried cranberries

Preheat oven to 375ºF (190ºC). Lightly grease a 12 cup muffin tin, or line with cupcake liners.

In a large bowl, sift together flour, baking powder and salt.

In another bowl, whisk together egg, honey or sugar, egg, milk and bananas. Stir in cereal. Add wet ingredients to dry and stir until just blended. Stir in cranberries. Divide evenly among prepared muffin cups.

Bake for 20 minutes, until a tester inserted in the centre of a muffin comes out clean. Leave muffins in tin to cool for 2-3 minutes, then remove to a rack to cool completely (or serve hot).

Makes 12.

Notes:
• These muffins do not rise a lot while baking, and so are more like little flat-topped cakes. If you prefer a larger, domed muffin, I would recommend dividing the batter between 6-8 muffins instead. Be sure to space them evenly in the tin and adjust the cooking time accordingly.
• A raisin bran cereal could also be substituted, as could fresh or frozen berries. Frozen berries will colour the batter a bit, due to their juice.
• Depending on your bananas, you may find you need to hold back a bit of the milk. I usually use between 3/4 cup and 1 cup.

Celebrating the start of something good

As I was discussing with a friend recently, fall has a very specific personality to it. While I love summer for all its brightness and enthusiasm, this time of year seems bring along a sense of hospitality. The market is still filled with colour, albeit from a kaleidoscope of rainbow hues to a wash of sunset shades. Now is the time to start braising meats and revisiting classic cold-weather comfort food. It is this idea of hearth and home, of generosity and bounty, that truly makes autumn my favourite season.

It was with this thought in mind that I started thinking about what to do with the apples I had from Schouwenaar Orchards and Vineyards. It was the weekend after the official start to fall, and I was looking for something that was homey and comforting. As I padded through the house in my slippers and robe, my gaze fell across the most recent edition of Everyday Food Magazine. Curled up to our breakfast counter, perched on a stool and with hands wrapped firmly around a warm mug, I flipped through the pages until I came upon an in-depth article on apples — with recipes both savoury and sweet, including one for an applesauce cake.

Remembering a favourite recipe for homemade applesauce using apple cider, I switched my mug for a peeler and started to work. Using a mix of Redcort, McIntosh and Galas, I happily worked away, and soon the kitchen was filled with the smells of mulled spices and the cooking fruit. What a perfect way to start a Saturday.

Once it had cooled I was left with a slightly tart, but sweetly balanced, sauce. With this success boosting my confidence, I turned to the cake recipe. As I’ve mentioned before, I'm not one to leave well enough alone — so I gave into my need to fiddle and started scribbling notes.

I had just received the thoughtful gift of miniature tube pans from my mother, so they had to be used, no doubt about it. The magazine called for light brown sugar only, but instead I included a bit of Demerara sugar, wanting the depth of almost burnt sweetness it brings. I also omitted the cardamom, as my cider applesauce was highly spiced. In one batch, I switched out the honey for maple syrup, for no other reason that I thought the spicy caramel taste would bring another note to compliment the apples.

Apple cider applesauce
Well-flavoured and slightly tangy, this is a great simple applesauce to use alone or in cooking. It has more character than store bought varieties, and comes together quite quickly. As an added bonus, your kitchen will smell heavenly as it cooks. You can use a mulled cider for this recipe, but may want to omit the cinnamon called for.

3 pounds apples, peeled, cored and cut into ½” slices (or thereabouts)
1 cinnamon stick or ½ teaspoon ground cinnamon
1 cup apple cider
2 teaspoons freshly squeezed lemon juice
Honey (optional)

In a large saucepan, combine apples, cinnamon and cider and bring to a boil. Cover and reduce heat, let simmer for 40 minutes, stirring occasionally. If the sauce looks too dry at any time, add a few tablespoons of water.

When apples are tender, remove from heat and discard cinnamon stick (if using). Stir in lemon juice, and check for sweetness. If needed, add honey to taste, to balance flavours.

Makes approximately 4 cups.

Notes
• Sugar can be used instead of the honey, but should then be added before the apples are fully cooled so that it can dissolve. I find honey a much more mellow sweet, and enjoy the resiny depth it adds.

Applesauce Cake
Inspired by the recipe published in Everyday Food.

Non-stick cooking spray
3 cups all-purpose flour (spooned and levelled)
2 teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 ½ teaspoons ground cinnamon (you may omit this if you used a heavily-mulled cider in the applesauce)
1 cup unsalted butter, softened
1 ½ cups packed light brown sugar
½ cup Demerara sugar
¼ cup maple syrup or honey
2 large eggs
2 cups apple cider applesauce (or store-bought)

Icing/confectioner’s sugar (optional)

Preheat oven to 175° C (350°F).

Generously coat twelve 1 cup capacity miniature tube pans (usually in available in sheets of six), or a 10 inch tube pan.

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

In the bowl of an electric mixer (or using a handheld), beat together butter, brown sugars and maple syrup/honey until light and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, beating until well combined. The mixture should be pale and airy. With mixer on low, gradually add spoonfuls of the flour mixture, mixing until just combined. Beat in applesauce.

Spoon batter into prepared pans, smoothing the tops. Bake until a toothpick or cake tester comes out mostly clean (slightly wet) when inserted in the middle of the cake, 12-18 minutes with the miniature pans, or 50-60 using a traditional tube pan. Be sure not to over bake.

Cool in pan on a wire rack for 10 minutes. Invert onto a cutting board or baking sheet, and then again onto rack, top side up. Allow to cool completely. Serve either top or bottom side up (I liked the bottoms), with a light dusting of icing sugar.

Notes:
• Can be served alone, or with a scoop of cinnamon ice cream or a dollop of maple whipped cream.
• This cake keeps well, wrapped in the fridge. The flavours will mellow and blend.
• This batter is also good when baked in muffin tins - served with a bit of sweet butter, they make a lovely snack or breakfast.