Nourish Me

how to make an apple cake

Head out into the garden, along the boggy side where the mint grows in its almost wild state. If you're lucky, the cockatoos may have left some fruit on the secret tree in the back corner.  

You only need three, maybe four just to be safe,

but pick the tree clean anyway, 'cause they'll be back soon enough.

Little blighters always are.

Peel, core, then weigh those apples, because Nigel says so. (Sarah, darling, scroll down to the very bottom of the page) His wholemeal, apple and marmalade cake from Tender | Volume II is worth taking your time over. Trust me.

Break the eggs. Faff around with your lightmeter and the laundry sink for a bit, before whisking, and continuing on your merry baking way. 

And there you have it; a sophisticated, lusciously damp cake with the kind of crumb that people will chase around a plate, that also keeps very well, and owes quite a lot of its charm to the dedicated use of wholemeal flour. 

The kind of cake I love.

 

(the suggestive tomato is just a bit of fun...)

 

 

lately

I have of late been less enamoured of Nigel Slater than once I was, nothing major, nothing to write home about, just a vague sort of backnote of, hmm, maybe boredom? Can't help but feel he waxed a little too lyrically in his latest books, and some of his flowery descriptions made the No-Bullshit Australian in me squirm ever-so slightly.

Still, I love the man, always will, for it was he who taught me how to really cook, and even though this plum cake from Tender | Volume II was epically boring, he, along with David Tanis, are the only two cookery writers for whom I break a strict no cookbooks on the bedside table rule.  

This morning I found this humble little quote from Nigel,

I still get a buzz out of sharing recipes. Some people write stories, others tell jokes, I just let people know about something I made for supper that they might enjoy, too. That's all it is. A meal shared with strangers. And I can't think of anything I want to do more.

And that is why I adore him. Boring plum cake 'n all.  

Out of step

Hard though it is to type these words, type them I must: Nigel Slater's new fruit book, the second volume of his seductively presented Tender series, was a disappointment. When it arrived, I fell upon it, hungry for his words, his food, for him, but there's some beat I've missed in his writing this time around, something that means we've fallen out of step a little.

Saying it aloud (well, the internet equivalent of aloud) feels wrong, as though it diminishes the utmost respect I harbour for him, but it's good to know he's not, well, entirely infallible. There are others of his to adore.    

The makings of the cake above are from Appetite, a recipe called, "a simple cake to serve with summer fruit" which is the one cake I find myself thinking of most often. It's perfect, as the name suggests, with summer fruit, but it's actually just plain old perfect with any fruit. The cake below is, "A frosted marmalade cake" from The Kitchen Diaries, my frosting being made with blood orange juice, as that's what I had, and if there's one thing Nigel has taught me, it's to not fuss about such things. Gives it a dark glow which I quite like anyway.

So while I concentrate on building stronger wrists to hold Tender | Volume II (and Volume I whi I'm at it), I'll start working at cracking the spine by lusting, as I am wont to do, over Jonathan Lovekin's extraordinary pictures. For me, the charm - and he's very charming - of Slater lies equally with the imagery of his long term collaborator. There's a photograph of elberberries - a cluster of tiny, shiny, deep black pearls, held together by a delicate crimson stalk - on page 865 that makes my heart leap for the possibilites that the tree AOF and I planted in the country a few weeks ago will bring.

Friends that come bearing trees are most welcome.       

And with an orchard of my own now, I suspect I'll be pulling the book out more often as things swell and ripen up there.

I think Nigel and I will weather this one out, or at least I hope we will.