I climbed the apple trees in the orchard as much as my vertigo would let me, then left my father to reach those on the tallest branches. Some I would catch as he sent them hurtling earthwards, others I would miss (to his scorn). It was my job each autumn to wrap each fruit in newspaper and store them in the cellar for winter, when they would reappear in pies, sauce for roast pork and under crumble crusts.
The apple season is in full swing. They come in shades of crimson, yellow and green, their skins flushed with rust or orange, smooth and shiny, or freckled with the rough, russet skin. Eat them now, while they are at their best. I have crunched at least two a day since the season started. There is barely an apple I do not like.
The first recipe I ever had published was a strudel of apple and cheese, a savoury pastry I make to this day. A properly made strudel is something for hobby cooks who are happy to go into battle with the stretchy pastry the size of a bedsheet. I prefer to use puff pastry, rolling it out as thin as possible and making not one long parcel but a batch of small ones, little dumplings, puffed up like cushions, oozing their filling of fluffy apple and strings of blue cheese.
The pears come online later — my own are still on the espalier outside the kitchen door, hard as rock even if they are turning a deep chartreuse. I bought some cherubic Comice the other day, peeled and cored them and cooked four of them in a white wine syrup with the juice of a lemon and black pod of vanilla. I intended to serve them chilled, but the smell of the vanilla and sweet fruit syrup begged them to be eaten immediately, the warm syrup like silk.
I also made a crumble with pears and nuggets of dark chocolate. Their flesh can be drier than apples, so I fried them first with a little sugar and butter, then covered them in a blanket of crumble.
The new season’s nuts are here too. The best are pale and milky right now, sweet enough to eat straight from their shells, perhaps with a glass of chilled fino or a glass of cold, sparkling cider. It is time to get the nutcrackers out.
Apple and stilton dumplings
Little puff-pastry dumplings with the time-honoured filling of apples and cheese. They are almost as good cold (packed lunch, autumn picnic, midnight snack) as they are when eaten hot. It is worth taking care to seal them tightly to stop the filling leaking as they bake.
Makes 12. Ready in 50 minutes.
500g apples (3 medium apples)
3 Tbsp water
1 x 320g sheet puff pastry
150g stilton or other blue cheese
1 large egg, beaten
2 tsp nigella seeds
Peel and core the apples, then roughly chop them. Put them in a stainless-steel saucepan with the water and simmer for a few minutes until soft. Stir them occasionally to stop them sticking, then crush them to a rough puree with a fork. You are after a filling that is soft, but not runny. Set aside to cool.
Preheat the oven to 200°C. Cut the pastry in half, placing one half back in the fridge. Then, on a floured board, roll out the remaining half to measure 24cm x 30cm. Cut into 12 equal rectangles. Crumble the stilton and stir into the apple, then place 1½ heaped Tbsp of the mixture into the centre of six of the pieces of pastry. Brush the edges of each with beaten egg, then place the remaining pieces over the filling and seal each one with your fingertips.
Transfer the little dumplings to a baking sheet and keep cool. Repeat with the remaining pastry, again making a further six dumplings. Brush each with beaten egg and scatter with nigella seeds.
Bake the pastries in the preheated oven for 20 minutes or until golden. Transfer to a rack for 10 minutes, then serve while they are still warm.
A spicy and aromatic autumn lentil dish
Serves 2-3. Ready in 30 minutes.
Amild and aromatic way with split red lentils. The tiny orange lentils cook quickly and welcome the sweetness of beetroot and crisp, golden onions. Seasoned with the usual notes of ginger and turmeric, I like to finish with a little garam masala. I sometimes introduce a smoky note to the proceedings with curry leaves when I can get them.
Peel 1 medium onion and slice into thin rings. Pour 3 Tbsp of olive oil into a shallow pan, add the onions and fry to a deep, golden brown, stirring from time to time. Peel and thinly slice 2 cloves of garlic, adding to the onions halfway through cooking, then grate in 30g of peeled ginger using a fine grater. Stir in 1 tsp of chilli flakes, 1 tsp of yellow mustard seeds and 1 tsp of ground turmeric.
Bring 800ml of vegetable stock to the boil in a medium-sized saucepan, tip in 300g of split red lentils, lower the heat slightly, then let them cook for 15 minutes until soft.
Roughly chop 250g of cooked beetroot and stir into the onions. Stir 50g of butter, a generous seasoning of salt and black pepper and 2 tsp of garam masala into the lentils. Taste for seasoning, then divide between 2 bowls. Top each with 2 Tbsp of thick yoghurt, then spoon the onion and beetroot mixture on to the lentils. If you prefer you can stir the yoghurt into the mix before stirring.
• If you can get hold of curry leaves, they make a fine addition. Add them to the onions, near the end of cooking, letting them darken slightly in the hot oil. Alternatively, cook them to a crisp in a little oil in a separate frying pan, then scatter them over at the end. — The Observer
