I grabbed a spoon and thought I’d try a bite. It smelled amazing, but so does soap, so I approached with caution. When I finally took a taste, I was in heaven. It was like a giant, sticky, soft pumpkin chocolate chip cookie. The orange sauce provided the perfect balance of subtle acidity and I immediately put my spoon down to find mom and tell her how incredible it was.
When I (Amelia) tried a bite of this cake not less than four days after it came out of the oven, I was shocked and delighted to find that it was still soft, moist, and completely delectable. Sporting a crackling, crisp cinnamon and sugar crown and soft, apple kissed layers hidden beneath, it’s the best apple cake I’ve ever had. Frankly, it’s one of the best CAKES I’ve ever had.
Applesauce Cake is good for sharing because it travels well, stays fresh for several days, and makes two loaves. Also, the flavor. Each bite subtly conveys apple season and a bit of warmth. The cake tastes like the golden light that illuminates trees and so entrances us in the fall.
I’d (Amelia) like to call this my first recipe, but in reality it’s not. My first recipe, conceived in about five minutes when I was maybe ten, closely resembles some of the health trends of 2019. It was a baked dessert boasting an enticing ingredient list: oats and bananas. By my vague memory (and the memory of my mom), I mashed bananas and oats together with an egg and baked them. I was very excited. Until I tasted it. Despite my parents’ best efforts to compliment and eat it all, I knew it was gross. (And, upon asking mom today, I discovered that she did think it was gross after all. Parents lie too, I guess.)
I (Kate) started a book club right after moving to Boston. I’d graduated from college, was looking for my future, and a book club seemed the right thing to do. I know that I liked that book club, but I really remember only two things about it. One of the members designed an ironic T-shirt that said, “Kate’s Book Club.” A few years into the club, my new brother-in-law—a college student with a good heart and a ton of testosterone—wore the small shirt stretched tightly across his chest. The image has stayed clear in my mind.
