24 recipes. Page 1 of 1
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Rationing of butter and sugar in Britain during the Second World War made double-crust pastry hard to justify, and a rubbed-in topping of flour, oats and butter took its place. In the oven the cinnamon-spiced apples slump into a thick, bubbling sauce while the topping crisps on its peaks and stays moist where it meets the juice.
Soy sauce does not cook the crab in ganjang gejang, which is why only crab sold for raw consumption belongs in this Korean soy-marinated dish. The brine, simmered with apple, ginger, whole garlic, and scallion, has to be chilled to 4°C or below all the way through before it is poured over the crabs; warm liquid changes the texture of the raw meat.
Raw beet, apple and carrot are blended whole with water and drunk unstrained, pulp and all, which makes it thick. Apple and lemon cover much of the beet's earthy taste, which is why the honey goes in only after tasting, and only if needed.
On the domed jingisukan pan, lamb fat and juices run down the grooves into the bean sprouts, onions and squash ringing the edge. This Hokkaido style skips the marinade and dips the lamb after cooking in a soy-vinegar sauce made with grated apple, pear, garlic and ginger. The fattiest pieces cook first in the center, and their rendered fat coats the grooves so nothing sticks without added oil. Everyone eats as things cook, lifting off meat and vegetables as they are ready, with potatoes and squash taking the longest. Hokkaido began eating lamb when sheep were raised for wool in the Taisho era, and the dish is now cooked at home year-round and outdoors at spring blossom parties and summer barbecues.
With grated fresh apple handling part of the sweetness and apple cider vinegar bringing the tang, the gochujang sauce tastes lighter and fresher. It is not fruit-sweetened alone, though: oligosaccharide syrup goes in too. Thirty minutes in the fridge takes the raw edge off the gochujang and lets the apple's acidity settle into it. Half a boiled egg on top turns the thin somyeon noodles into an easy light meal.
Fennel brings a faint anise scent, more fragrant than sweet, and a celery-like snap that plays against thin slices of apple. Toasted walnuts add a slightly tannic crunch, and peppery arugula keeps the plate from leaning sweet. The honey-lemon dressing, just lemon juice, honey, olive oil, and salt, is deliberately plain so each ingredient stays recognizable. Sliced last and tossed straight into the dressing, the apple has no time to brown, and the salad goes to the table as soon as it is plated. In France and Italy this kind of salad turns up in autumn and winter, when apples and fennel are in season together, and it sits well beside roast chicken, where the fennel cuts through the richness.
The cornstarch tossed with the apples is what lets this pie slice cleanly: it catches the juice the fruit releases and sets it into a glossy syrup. The dish has English and Dutch roots going back to the 14th century, and Americans have baked it since colonial times. The apples sit between two sheets of crust, with slits on top to let steam out. Serve it warm with vanilla ice cream, a la mode, or beside a slice of cheddar as in New England.
All the fruit is cut to 1.5 to 2cm so a single spoonful holds crisp apple, crisp pear and green grapes that pop when bitten. The honey is dissolved completely in cold water first, and the sparkling water goes in just before eating. Other seasonal fruit can stand in.
Leftover bossam, Korean boiled pork, gets a second life tossed with cabbage, perilla leaves, cucumber, and apple. Instead of Korean hot mustard, the dressing uses whole-grain mustard and vinegar, which keeps the heat gentle and lets the seeds give a little pop. Apple sweetness and the minty, herbal note of perilla lighten the fatty pork, and the cabbage stays crisp when the salad goes to the table right away.
Folded into triangles, these turnovers carry on a medieval European habit of baking fruit in pastry, and by the 17th century they were sold as hand-held snacks at French and English market stalls. The apples are cooked down in a pan first with butter, sugar and cinnamon, so they enter the oven already soft and jammy rather than raw and wet. Heat turns the moisture between the puff pastry layers into steam that pushes them apart, and the egg wash gives the top a lacquered, deep golden finish. The shattering crust is at its best in the first few minutes out of the oven.
Makgeolli, lemon-lime soda, yuja marmalade and lemon juice go into one large bowl, enough for four glasses. Turn the makgeolli bottle over gently before opening so the sediment at the bottom mixes back in. Once the soda is added, give it one big lift from the bottom, then ladle it out right away so every glass gets ice and a few slices of unpeeled apple.
Cheongpomuk, a soft, translucent jelly made from mung bean starch, is cut into batons and tossed in chojang, Korean sweet-and-sour chili sauce. Crisp apple, cucumber, and red cabbage play against the jelly's smooth, bouncy texture, and the apple's sweetness rounds off the chili heat.
A small spoonful of doenjang, Korean fermented soybean paste, goes into the brown sugar caramel spread under the apples, but the aim is for it to sit behind the sweetness as a faint salty, savory depth rather than taste like doenjang. Pea-sized bits of butter left in the dough make the crust bake up flaky, and the cinnamon apples soften in the oven.
Minari, apple, cucumber and a small piece of ginger are blended with cold water. Poured straight from the blender, the juice is thick and fibrous; passed once through cheesecloth, it turns clear and green. A tart apple keeps it from leaning too sweet.
Chwinamul, a leafy Korean mountain green, gets only a 20-second blanch and an ice bath; left longer in boiling water, it loses both its herbal bitterness and its bright green color. Julienned apple and cucumber bring sweetness and juice, and thin red onion, soaked first in cold water, adds a sharp edge that keeps the plate light. The dressing loosens doenjang (Korean soybean paste) with lemon juice and thickens it with perilla oil into a nutty, tart coating rather than anything soup-like, and a salty doenjang can be thinned with a little water. The apple is cut last, after everything else is ready, to keep browning down. It sits somewhere between a seasoned namul side dish and a fruit salad, tastes clearest served cold, and is most fragrant with freshly harvested spring chwinamul.
This South Tyrolean version wraps the apples in a sweet, buttery shortcrust instead of hand-stretched strudel dough or puff pastry, so the outside eats more like tart pastry. Inside are raw sliced apples with sultanas, pine nuts and rum, plus fine breadcrumbs toasted in butter that catch the apple juice as it bakes.
Tapped with the back of a knife and torn lengthwise by hand, deodeok (a Korean mountain root) splits into chewy, fibrous strands, but pounded too hard the fibers crush and the chew is gone. A gochujang and vinegar dressing thickened with ground perilla seed gives it a nutty finish, and julienned apple softens the root's bitterness with sweet juice.
Apples cook first in a butter-and-sugar caramel in an ovenproof pan, then bake under a sheet of pastry before the whole thing is flipped onto a plate, caramelized fruit on top. The apples are peeled, cut into thick pieces and packed upright in the pan with no gaps. After only 3 to 5 minutes out of the oven, a plate wider than the pan goes on top and both are turned over in one motion.
Apple, banana, strawberries and blueberries cut into bite-size pieces get folded into plain yogurt sweetened with honey, whose soft tang sits over the fruit's sweetness. Lemon juice slows browning on the cut apple and freshens the finish, while walnuts toasted briefly in a dry pan bring crunch to an otherwise soft bowl.
Swiss chard in a sweet pie sounds unlikely, but the leaves are mixed with apple, rum-soaked raisins, pine nuts, and brown sugar under a double crust. A dusting of powdered sugar once the pie has cooled through makes it read as a dessert from the first look.
Crisp apple and kiwi, soft banana, and tart strawberries and blueberries end up together in each spoonful, held by plain yogurt sweetened only with honey and sharpened with lemon. Cutting the fruit to a similar size keeps every bite even. The lemon juice does a second job, slowing the apple from turning brown. Banana softens fastest of all, so it joins the bowl last, after everything else is coated. Ten minutes in the fridge lets the fruit juices loosen the yogurt into a lighter, glossier coating.
Raw kale is fibrous and scratchy, but massaging it with half the dressing darkens the leaves, shrinks their volume and makes them easy to chew. Lemon juice softens the kale's bitterness, while olive oil and honey round out the acidity. Thin apple slices get a light coat of dressing as soon as they are cut, and they stay pale while the rest is prepared. Just 1 minute in a dry pan brings oil to the surface of the walnuts and makes them far more fragrant. Dried cranberries scattered through the bowl add small sweet-tart bursts.
Chewy seaweed stems meet crisp julienned apple, and a mustard dressing adds a sinus-tingling heat. Salted seaweed stems need a proper soak: if too much salt remains, the apple's sweetness disappears, and if they are blanched too long, they lose their snappy bite. Vinegar and oligosaccharide syrup, a mild Korean sweetener, round the mustard into something sweet and sharp. The salad is served cold.
Crisp apple cubes, thin celery, juicy grapes and lightly toasted walnuts are held together by a light mayonnaise dressing. With only a few teaspoons of mayonnaise and a little sugar and lemon, the dressing should coat thinly, and pressing on the fruit releases juice that turns it runny. The walnuts are warmed in a dry pan over low heat until fragrant, then cooled completely so they match the temperature of everything else. Tossing the apple with lemon juice right after cutting keeps it from browning, and that same juice ends up in the dressing. Swapping half the mayonnaise for Greek yogurt makes a lighter version.