Miso-caramel apple pudding

I wasn't exaggerating when I said I'd been really getting into puddings. In addition to the marmalade toast sponge pudding I posted last week, this miso-caramel apple one is the other I've been making a lot right now. I first made it as I was curious about the use of miso in dessert - something about that deep savoury taste infusing a sweet caramel intrigued. Plus it's a great showcase for apples while they're in season. This dessert comes together in two parts - the apples are softened on the stovetop in butter and sugar and miso, then poured into a baking dish and covered in a blanket of sour cream sponge. The whole thing is baked in the oven, then emerges burnished brown. The fruit below is still nicely toothsome - so not a soggy mess - contrasting nicely with the lightness of the sponge above. The miso manages to make this both comforting and sophisticated. And unbelievably more-ish. If you don't already have miso in your fridge, buying a jar would be a good investment as the two teaspoons required for this recipe will barely make a dent on your supply, which means you can make it again (and again).

Browned butter and rosemary apple cake

I got to sit out summer for two weeks when I spent Christmas with family in the Pacific North-West of the US, and the New Year with friends just over the border in Canada. It's been ten years since I made this birthday cake for a then-seven year old, and all these years later she and I are somehow the same shoe size, and she's surpassed me in the kitchen - making dinner many nights for her parents, who really did hit the kid jackpot. I promised her grandmother we'd make a cake together during my stay. She was keen to try out the Danish dough whisk I'd brought her as a present. Given we'd all had more than our fill of chocolates, and puddings, and candy canes, something a bit less OTT was in order. I had a recipe for browned butter and rosemary apple cake from a Scottish cookbook I'd been given for Christmas, which seemed perfect... but for the fact that there'd been a run on rosemary for holiday roasts, so we had to try a few Vancouver grocery stores before we got lucky. Happily we did, as this cake was a winner. Simple and sophisticated - sweet with apple but with subtle savoury notes from the rosemary and nuttiness of the brown butter. Cosy and comforting. Like being with old friends.

Browned butter and rosemary apple cake
Adapted from Midweek Recipes by Jess Elliott Dennison

If you can't lay your hands on rosemary, thyme or sage would, according to the recipe's author, make a good substitute. 

6 sprigs rosemary

200g salted butter

225g self-raising flour

1 tsp baking powder

225g soft brown sugar

2 eggs

300g apples, peeled, cored, and thickly sliced

50g flaked almonds

Place the butter with the rosemary in a pan and heat on medium for 4-5 minutes, stirring regularly. The butter will foam up and become golden before turning dark brown. This is when to turn off the heat. A few dark specks will appear (probably on the base of the pan) and it will smelly really nutty. Strain this liquid (scraping every bit of it out with a spatula) through a fine-mesh strainer. Discard the rosemary and allow to cool. If some rosemary gets in the butter, that's totally fine.

Preheat the oven to 160 deg C (320 deg F) and grease and line and deep 23cm cake tin.

Combine flour, baking powder, sugar and eggs in a bowl and add the melted, slightly-cooled butter. Mix well until combined into a thick batter.

Spread half the mixture over the base of the cake tin, then scatter over the apples, ensuring most go in the centre. Spoon remaining cake batter over the fruit. Don't panic if you can't get your dollops of batter to join up as it will all even out in the oven. Sprinkle the almonds over the top and bake for 45 minutes to one hour, or until golden and coming away from the sides of the tin.

Simple apple cake

It was at my friend Elizabeth's urging (via her blog) I made this cake. She promised it was easy, delicious and able to be whipped up when the pantry was practically bare. Can I tell you, it is all of those things. When I made it, I turned it out of the tin and selected a plate to put it on, reaching for one I particularly like but rarely use - one of the few things of my mum's I took with me back to Sydney after she died. It distinguishes itself by being absolutely flat - no sloping sides - and at its centre depicts an English country cottage covered in flowers. It was her mother's and sticky-taped to its underside, remarkably, is still a small piece of paper with my grandmother's name written in careful capitals (lest it be lost after transporting something scrumptious to someone's house). 

Instantly, I remembered all the afternoon teas at her house after school. Scones were the main event, if I'm honest, but also on offer with regularity was an apple tea cake. Maybe subconsciously that's why I reached for that plate. Originally from Scotland, my grandmother married a bank manager and raised three children in country Queensland. Before she was catering to hungry grandchildren in her retirement in Brisbane, she was entertaining bank personnel and clients in a succession of small towns. I wonder if she found it surreal serving up on scenes of rural life so different to her surrounds.

This isn't Gran's recipe, but she'd definitely approve. It's not only effortless, but economical (one egg!) and when it bakes, it perfumes the air with the comforting scent of cinnamon. Something to satisfy all ages, eternally.

Norwegian apple pie

In July, I went to Norway for the first time. I was only there a matter of hours, on my way through to Stockholm, and all I remember eating was a burrito. Food was the last thing on my mind really as the priority was getting to Vigeland Sculpture Park. Showcasing the life work of artist Gustav Vigeland, the park sits just outside downtown Oslo and features over 200 sculptures of human figures in bronze, granite and cast-iron. It's a celebration of human life at every stage - from infancy to old age and everything in between.

It's a nice thing to remember as I eat this pie, which is really, much more of a cake. November has been tumultuous for me for many reasons and notably, is not over yet. Over the other side of the world, Americans are gathering for Thanksgiving. Today, an ordinary old Thursday in my Australian apartment so far from Scandinavia, I'm giving thanks for memories, for the crazy complexity of the human experience, and for this pie, which is simple and sweet and made for sharing.

Beetroot, kohlrabi, carrot and apple slaw with labneh

A few years ago for Christmas I got a mandoline. Not the musical instrument but the kitchen gadget that thinly slices vegetables with razor sharp metal blades. I was a little afraid of it to be honest, so it sat in the drawer til today, when I was motivated to use it by a recipe in Hetty McKinnon's new cookbook Neighbourhood (which is so good I've bought it for two friends' birthdays since it came out in September). I have to say the word "slaw" conjures visions of limp cabbage coated in mayonnaise. A white on white nightmare. But this! This is different. Vibrantly-hued vegetables (plus one piece of fruit) sliced super-fine, doused in sharp/sweet vinegar, offset with liberal dollops of creamy labneh and scattered with crunchy roasted pumpkin seeds. It's bright and beautiful and suitably spring-y. A big reward for a small act of kitchen bravery.

Apple, rye and ginger teacake

There's something very comforting about teacakes. I suppose it's the name, containing as it does two very cosy concepts - tea and cake. As the name also suggests, it's not fancy, just a little something to have while you pause. There's generally not enough pausing in our lives. So let this be an incentive - warm ginger, sweet apples, nutty rye. Quick to assemble, even quicker to eat. But don't rush. Take your time. That's the point.

Salted butter apple galette

In the United States, Thursday is Thanksgiving. I wish I could be there. Wearing a coat. Eating lots. Being thankful. But alas, here I am, a few million miles away, battling scorching temperatures and a sinus infection. But I have pie. Well, galette to be exact. So I'll be there in spirit - and in dessert - with my American friends and family. For those of you who find the prospect of making pie intimidating, a galette is the solution: all the taste of a pie, with none of the fuss. Here, a quickly-made dough is rolled out, topped with a couple of thinly sliced apples arranged helter skelter and brushed with salted brown butter infused with vanilla. Serve it with whipped cream with a little maple syrup folded through. Air-conditioning and antibiotics optional. Happy Thanksgiving!