Blue Ribbon Apple Cake

The Jewish holidays are early this year — Rosh Hashanah begins September 25th, and I am beginning the mental preparations, the recipe review, the guest list, the particular state of focused anticipation that precedes every Jewish holiday and that I have been performing for forty years with the reliability of a liturgical clock. This year the preparations carry an additional weight: this may be the last Rosh Hashanah with Marvin at the table. The looking at facilities has become planning for a facility. The Cedarhurst place has a room. David is handling the paperwork. The timeline is: after the holidays. After Rosh Hashanah, after Yom Kippur, after Sukkot. After the holidays, we move Marvin. The holidays are the last campaign. The table is the last battlefield. The brisket is the last stand.

I am not being dramatic. I am being precise. The precision of an English teacher who knows that words have weight and that "last" is the heaviest word in the language. Not the last Rosh Hashanah — Marvin will have more Rosh Hashanahs, in the facility, wherever he is — but the last one at this table, in this chair, in this house where he has sat for every Rosh Hashanah since 1982. The last one here. And "here" is the word that matters, because "here" is where the life was lived, and the living was the marriage, and the marriage was the table.

I made a honey cake — early, as a test, because the honey cake must be perfect for Rosh Hashanah and perfection requires rehearsal. The cake was moist and spiced and the honey was golden and I tasted it and adjusted: more cinnamon, less clove, a touch more orange zest. The adjusting is the craft. The craft is the control. In a life where I am losing control of everything, the honey cake is the one thing I can adjust, refine, perfect. Let me have this. Let me have the honey cake.

The Blue Ribbon Apple Cake is the recipe I keep returning to when the honey cake needs to be more than a honey cake — when it needs to hold apples and spice and the particular weight of a September that means something. I have made this cake dozens of times, adjusting the cinnamon, pulling back the clove, adding orange zest until the balance is exactly right. This is the version I am bringing to the table this year, because this year the table has to be perfect, and this cake — dense, moist, golden with honey — is the one thing I can make perfect.

Prep Time: 25 minutes | Cook Time: 1 hour 15 minutes | Total Time: 1 hour 40 minutes | Servings: 12

Ingredients

3 cups all-purpose flour
2 cups granulated sugar
1 cup vegetable oil
4 large eggs
1/3 cup orange juice
1 tablespoon vanilla extract
3 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon salt
3 large apples, peeled and thinly sliced (Granny Smith or Honeycrisp)
2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
5 tablespoons granulated sugar (for apple filling)

Instructions

Preheat the oven. Set your oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease and flour a 10-inch tube pan or Bundt pan.
Prepare the apple filling. In a bowl, toss the sliced apples with 5 tablespoons sugar and the cinnamon. Set aside while you prepare the batter.
Mix the wet ingredients. In a large bowl, beat together the eggs, 2 cups sugar, oil, orange juice, and vanilla until smooth and well combined.
Combine the dry ingredients. In a separate bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, and salt. Gradually add the dry mixture to the wet mixture, stirring until just combined. The batter will be thick.
Layer the batter and apples. Pour one-third of the batter into the prepared pan. Arrange half of the cinnamon-sugar apple slices over the batter. Add another third of the batter, then the remaining apples. Top with the final third of the batter.
Bake. Bake for 1 hour and 15 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. If the top browns too quickly, tent loosely with aluminum foil after 45 minutes.
Cool. Let the cake cool in the pan for 20 minutes, then carefully invert onto a wire rack or serving plate. Allow to cool completely before slicing.

Nutrition (per serving)

Blue Ribbon Apple Cake — The One Thing I Can Still Perfect