The Apple Pie Years — Five Apple Pies, Three Recipes, Five Autumns

When we took over the allotment in 2020, we didn’t just inherit a garden — we inherited a new ritual. The apple trees out back have quietly shaped the rhythm of my Septembers ever since. Each year, I make at least one apple pie, always trying a new recipe, and always learning something small but lasting.

2020–2023: The Café Fernando Years

My first apple pies came from Cenk Sönmezsoy’s Café Fernando — a recipe that’s as meticulous as it is rewarding. The apples are sliced thinly on a mandolin, macerated in sugar, and layered raw into the pie. The peels and cores are cooked down into a silky apple butter, thickened with salep — a powder made from dried orchid tubers traditionally used in Turkey.

It’s not a quick pie: the method involves several steps and patient timing, but the result has a depth of flavour and balance that makes every stage worthwhile.

2024: Dutch Apple Cake from Comfort

In 2024, I took a different turn with Ottolenghi’s Comfort, baking what’s technically called a Dutch apple cake. It’s a different kind of creature — a deep, rich crust packed with chunky apples mixed with sugar, treacle, spices, and a handful of breadcrumbs for texture.

The work here goes mostly into the pastry, but it’s less fussy overall — a rustic, autumnal bake that fills the house with the kind of warmth only butter, apples, and cinnamon can create.

2025: Baking & the Meaning of Life by Helen Goh

This year’s pie came from Helen Goh’s book Baking & the Meaning of Life. The apples are sliced thinly (again, a mandolin helps) and macerated with sugar and spices, including freshly grated nutmeg — the real highlight of this recipe. The juices are strained, the apples gently cooked with butter, and everything is thickened with tapioca starch.

I substituted tapioca with salep from last year’s pantry — a nod to my Turkish roots and a lovely way to connect old and new traditions.

The result is balanced and aromatic, with a delicate texture that feels both classic and comforting.

I served it with grape & kefir ice cream, made from our allotment grapes — the tangy, floral notes were the perfect match for the sweet, spiced filling.

Reflections

Five years, five apple pies. Each one tasted slightly different — shaped by the recipe, the harvest, and the mood of the season. What started as a way to use garden apples has become a quiet annual ritual: a marker of time, of home, and of how small traditions grow into meaning.