It’s winter in Brooklyn (at last). Crackly, ice-sheeted sidewalks mean baked apples, perfumed with fir sugar and cinnamon, slicked with a little maple syrup, dabbed with butter, and braced by lemon juice.
I grew up with baked apples. They were a regular winter treat in the cold center of South Africa, where my mom baked them in the same Pyrex dish that held, on rainy days, rolled-up, snuggled, cinnamon-scented crêpes. The apples came to the table molten. Wisps of escaping steam were a warning my father never heeded. He’d take a typically confident mouthful and shout, “They’re hot,” in wounded surprise. They are hot. Straight from the oven, the tender, fruit-filled baked apples seethe with heat. The trick is to wait. Let them settle for five minutes before serving. While they do, their delicious cooking juices turn to golden jelly. Then, they are ready for your spoon, and for a soothing cloud of whipped cream.
Here’s how to bake them whole. They can be a nourishing snack for one, or a rustically sumptuous dessert for six.
Photography by Marie Viljoen.
The aroma rising from a dish of baked apples is instant comfort. Their flavor and fluffiness feed our feelings in a healthier way than many comfort foods can. Apple skin and dried fruits are packed with fiber, as well as (depending on the dried fruit you choose as a filling) minerals—like iron and antioxidants—in raisins and dried figs and plums, especially. Even cinnamon is a powerful anti-inflammatory and antioxidant.
And apples are in season for a long, long time.
If you live in an apple-growing region, local farmers markets offer a much broader selection of apples than many supermarkets do. Regardless of source, some apples are better for baking whole than others, holding their shape through an hour of oven heat. Still, even an imploded pome tastes pretty good; it’s just better as a midnight snack than the showpiece after dinner.
Some of the best apples for baking are Braeburn, Cortland, Granny Smith, Honeycrisp, Pink Lady, and Winesap. Yes, sometimes an apple may split in the slow heat of the oven, but there is something very appealing in that rupture. The contrast of caramelized skin and tender flesh is seductive.
There is only one fiddly aspect to stuffing and baking apples whole: removing the core. My mother used an apple corer, and I’m beginning to see its appeal. I use a skinny, sharp knife, slicing down and around, and wiggling out the apple’s seedy, fibrous heart.
