Slurping up noodles and sipping on sake, Nora and Michael stare at the shadow the globular vase casts on the living room wall. Thin strands of black slip away from behind Nora's ears, stealing her hands from her spoon and her sustenance. They listen to Ira Glass because what else is there to do?
Perhaps they could flip through the fingered pages of a photo album, one of eight that Elizabeth has carefully arranged on the bottom of the bookshelf. Forest green, maroon, a deep navy blue. These serious colors house the more vibrant paint splatters of babyhood, of toddler-hood, of awkward adolescence.
Remember when? And they would point, laugh, trace their fingers across her face until they could almost touch her again, touch her fine pointed chin and her lined lips, those ears that always dangled pearls or ceramic beads. But the vase and its shadow kept them steady, heavy in their seat, not looking to the left, to the setting sun and the breeze that was rustling the oaks out front. And to the right? No. To the right was her kitchen, with her pots and her pans and the cutting board she received as a gift for a happy marriage.
Nora knew it would happen. She knew that one day her mother would need this space, a place where the world could stop moving. Two letters addressed to Michael and Nora and sent to the opposite ends of the country, two letters with polar bear stamps and her cursive script sealing the arrangement with love. I'll be back, she promised and drew a heart with a flower, to symbolize...I don't really know...maybe love?
Perhaps they could flip through the fingered pages of a photo album, one of eight that Elizabeth has carefully arranged on the bottom of the bookshelf. Forest green, maroon, a deep navy blue. These serious colors house the more vibrant paint splatters of babyhood, of toddler-hood, of awkward adolescence.
Remember when? And they would point, laugh, trace their fingers across her face until they could almost touch her again, touch her fine pointed chin and her lined lips, those ears that always dangled pearls or ceramic beads. But the vase and its shadow kept them steady, heavy in their seat, not looking to the left, to the setting sun and the breeze that was rustling the oaks out front. And to the right? No. To the right was her kitchen, with her pots and her pans and the cutting board she received as a gift for a happy marriage.
Nora knew it would happen. She knew that one day her mother would need this space, a place where the world could stop moving. Two letters addressed to Michael and Nora and sent to the opposite ends of the country, two letters with polar bear stamps and her cursive script sealing the arrangement with love. I'll be back, she promised and drew a heart with a flower, to symbolize...I don't really know...maybe love?
There are some recipes that are confined to form. A pie is a pie, and a cookie is a cookie...but a cake can transform itself into a variety of shapes and sizes...and the petite variety happens to be my personal preference.
This recipe was originally designed for a bundt cake. While there is no doubt that a thick slice of Apple Dapple Cake is delightful, I rather enjoy peeling back a cupcake wrapper and biting into a moist crumb topped with creamy frosting.
We ate dessert last night, my fellow MFA students and their respective partners, and I served these cupcakes along with some brownies and quite a few bottles of wine.
They were met with delight, and I was delighted to serve them. We had picked up our first batch of locally grown apples over the weekend, and I was giddy with the excitement of not seeing stickers from Chile or New Zealand on my favorite fruit.
These cupcakes are everything a dessert should be. They are moist, they are complex and they are sweet. If you would like, you can pour this batter into a bundt pan. Or you can pour in into several 8-inch rounds. But if you are like me, you will take out your muffin tins and make a batch of cupcakes that would make any elementary school mom proud.
This recipe was originally designed for a bundt cake. While there is no doubt that a thick slice of Apple Dapple Cake is delightful, I rather enjoy peeling back a cupcake wrapper and biting into a moist crumb topped with creamy frosting.
We ate dessert last night, my fellow MFA students and their respective partners, and I served these cupcakes along with some brownies and quite a few bottles of wine.
They were met with delight, and I was delighted to serve them. We had picked up our first batch of locally grown apples over the weekend, and I was giddy with the excitement of not seeing stickers from Chile or New Zealand on my favorite fruit.
These cupcakes are everything a dessert should be. They are moist, they are complex and they are sweet. If you would like, you can pour this batter into a bundt pan. Or you can pour in into several 8-inch rounds. But if you are like me, you will take out your muffin tins and make a batch of cupcakes that would make any elementary school mom proud.
Apple Dapple Cupcakes
1 1/3 cups vegetable oil (I use canola oil)
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 cups sugar
3 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla
2 Gala apples, cored and cut into 1/4-inch pieces
1. Line or grease 24 muffin tins. Set aside and preheat your oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.
2. In a medium bowl, combine your flour, cinnamon, baking soda and salt. Use a whisk to incorporate ingredients fully.
3. In a large bowl combine your vegetable oil, sugar, eggs and vanilla extract. Beat with an electric mixer until thick and glossy (about two minutes). In three batches, mix in your dry ingredients, stirring after each addition. Finally stir in your diced apples until just incorporated.
4. Divide your batter into your prepared muffin tins (I always use an ice cream scooper for this part...it makes it so much easier)
5. Bake in a preheated oven for 15-20 minutes or until a tester inserted into the center of the cupcake comes out clean. Allow to cool in pan for 5 minutes before removing to a wire rack to cool completely.
Cinnamon Buttercream Frosting
*ample amount of frosting for 24 cupcakes
2 Sticks Butter (room temperature)
2-3 TBSP heavy cream
1 tsp cinnamon
4-4 1/2 cups powdered sugar
1. Combine butter, cream, cinnamon and one cup of powdered sugar in a large bowl. Using a hand or stand mixer, beat until sugar is fully incorporated. Gradually add the remaining sugar until desired consistency and sweetness is reached.
1 1/3 cups vegetable oil (I use canola oil)
3 cups all-purpose flour
1 tablespoon ground cinnamon
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 cups sugar
3 large eggs
1 tsp vanilla
2 Gala apples, cored and cut into 1/4-inch pieces
1. Line or grease 24 muffin tins. Set aside and preheat your oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit.
2. In a medium bowl, combine your flour, cinnamon, baking soda and salt. Use a whisk to incorporate ingredients fully.
3. In a large bowl combine your vegetable oil, sugar, eggs and vanilla extract. Beat with an electric mixer until thick and glossy (about two minutes). In three batches, mix in your dry ingredients, stirring after each addition. Finally stir in your diced apples until just incorporated.
4. Divide your batter into your prepared muffin tins (I always use an ice cream scooper for this part...it makes it so much easier)
5. Bake in a preheated oven for 15-20 minutes or until a tester inserted into the center of the cupcake comes out clean. Allow to cool in pan for 5 minutes before removing to a wire rack to cool completely.
Cinnamon Buttercream Frosting
*ample amount of frosting for 24 cupcakes
2 Sticks Butter (room temperature)
2-3 TBSP heavy cream
1 tsp cinnamon
4-4 1/2 cups powdered sugar
1. Combine butter, cream, cinnamon and one cup of powdered sugar in a large bowl. Using a hand or stand mixer, beat until sugar is fully incorporated. Gradually add the remaining sugar until desired consistency and sweetness is reached.
Always,
Monet
Anecdotes and Apple Cores
Monet
Anecdotes and Apple Cores
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