If you could only smell these...wow. It's apple pie without all the fuss. It's comfort food. It's home.
What an easy little recipe that gives so much flavor and taste. The cinnamon-laced juices are just incredible. Heaven on a plate.
Apples also made the top 20 in a USDA list of foods with the highest antioxidant scores. The richest concentration of antioxidants is found in the fruit's skin, how perfect since this recipe calls for unpeeled apples.
Halving the apples before baking them also saves cooking time and lets the fruit soak up all the amazing maple-ness and cinnamony goodness.
You are going to love these.
Fall
Fall
Baking with Granny Smith Apples
I'm back home in New England this week; I'm wearing my fleece, enjoying brilliant foliage, and subsisting on a diet of apples and goods baked with apples. Although you can't compare the year-round fresh produce in San Diego with the produce here, when it comes to apples, New England is indisputably #1. Although any apple can be shined on your sleeve and eaten as is, we usually divide them into eating and cooking apples: firm Cortlands for baking pies; soft MacIntosh for apple sauce; crisp Macouns for eating.
Before I left San Diego, I used some Granny Smith apples I had to make these Old-Fashioned Spiced Apple Streusel Muffins. The sour tang of Granny Smiths contrasts deliciously with sweet raisins, brown sugar, and spices. The beauty of this Granny Smith recipe is that they taste like your grandmother's homey spiced apple streusel muffins but with a youthful jolt of tartness. Pair them with a latte for a San Diego treat, or go New England with a nice, hot cup 'a coffee.
Orange Ya Glad it’s Fall?
Synonymous with autumn is the color orange. Pumpkin, salmon, persimmon, and rust abound throughout the garden and nature. From leaves to blooms to the fruits of the season, autumnal orange hues find favor with this Farmer. All I have to do is peruse around the garden and landscape and gather orange colored blossoms and fruit for an arrangement that celebrates the bounty of the season.
Planting snapdragons in the fall ensures mountains of this fun flower the following spring for the Deep South. Bronze Liberty Classic snaps are simply stunning, for they start out salmon and then are throated with golden/orangey/terra cotta tints as the blossoms mature.
This range of terra cotta to coral punctuates pansy and viola beds and spikes through glossy green parsley mounds for lovely fall color and spring delight. Since I’ve been planting them in the garden, I had a few stems to spare for an arrangement.
Great Aunt Irene’s orange, gold, and white bowl from the Far East (different family lore places it in different regions of Asia, so the Far East shall suffice) just spoke for itself as the vessel of choice for a festival of flowers, paying homage to a splendid color.
The snaps were a must and, thus, a pilgrimage through the garden commenced – the pilgrimage was now a hunt for orange flowers, fruit, and foliage.
Despite its looks, don't chintz on the quince
At first glance — and even, quite frankly, after extended contemplation — there is little to hint that the quince is one of the most delicious of fall's fruits. It is rough-hewn and blocky in appearance, like someone's first woodworking project gone horribly wrong. And should you make the mistake of taking a bite of it raw, that's kind of how it tastes too.
But you know about judging things on first impressions. Take that same quince, give it a little careful tending and you'll find a fruit that is utterly transformed. Cook quince — slowly and gently, bathed in just a little bit of sugar syrup — and the flesh that was once wooden and tannic turns a lovely rose hue, with a silky texture and a subtly sweet, spicy flavor that recalls apples and pears baked with cinnamon and clove.
The traditional way to cook a quince is by poaching it in spiced simple syrup. That's easy enough, but I've come to favor a slightly different technique from my old friend Deborah Madison's cookbook "Seasonal Fruit Desserts." She bakes them in a syrup made partly with white wine and spiced with cinnamon, clove and cardamom along with tangerine or orange zest.
Creamy-As-You-Like Beet Soup
Beets are like paint bombs. Deliciously sweet, red, flavored paint bombs, so intensely colored they stain your fingers, bleed into the sink, tint the cutting board, you name it. When cooked, they aren't so much red as deep magenta. When mixed with sour cream they turn paler shades of magenta to pink. The color, like the flavor is either something you love or you hate.
Beets get a bad rap from the low carb police, but they are actually quite healthy, filled with antioxidants, low in calories, they have significant amounts of fiber, folate, manganese and potassium. I know some people find beets too "earthy" tasting, but both Lee and I love 'em. Especially in beet soup.
There are an unbelievable number of recipes for beet soup. It's commonly served all over Eastern Europe. There are versions that are cold, hot, vegetarian, with meat, chunky, smooth, with tons of vegetables, with no other vegetables.
Lately I've been experimenting with "less is more". I've tried stripping down various recipes to the barest of basics to see if I could coax the ingredients to shine through. This is one of those recipes. In my experiment to get to the essence of the beet, I developed a recipe that has little more than beets in it at all. A pinch or two of sugar perks up the flavor and the broth and sour cream add body and richness.
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