
Chef Thomas
Apple Charlotte
Buttered bread baked to a deep mahogany around a filling of spiced Bramley apples, turned out at the table in a small moment of drama, cold cream poured from a jug alongside.
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Created by Chef Thomas
Wild blackberries and Bramley apples collapsed together under a thick, sandy crumble, the pudding that makes September feel like it's worth staying in for.
There is a Sunday in September when the hedgerows along the lane have gone heavy with blackberries, and you come home with a carrier bag, a stained thumb, and a couple of thorn scratches up your forearm. That bag on the kitchen table is the whole reason for this pudding. Everything else, the apples, the butter, the flour, the oats, is already in the house.
Bramleys are the apple for this. I won't be talked out of it. They collapse in the oven into something soft and tart, almost savoury, which is what the blackberries need to push against. A dessert apple stays firm and polite, and this is not a polite pudding. The fruit should slump. The juice should run dark and purple. The crumble on top should be thick and uneven, sandy in places and bouldery in others, with the demerara catching on the peaks and going to toffee.
I wrote it down in the notebook years ago, after the first proper blackberrying walk of a new autumn: "Bramley, bramble, oats, cream. Enough." It's still enough. A recipe is a conversation, not a contract, and this one has been going on between me and September for a long time.
Serve it warm, not hot. Cold cream poured from a jug so it pools against the hot fruit and melts slowly at the edges. There are few better feelings than carrying a crumble to the table, the dish still bubbling faintly at the rim, and spooning it out into bowls for people who've had a long walk and are ready to sit down. We're only making dinner. This is how you end one.
Quantity
500g
peeled, cored and roughly chopped
Quantity
350g
preferably wild, picked over
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
half a lemon
Quantity
200g
Quantity
125g
cubed
Quantity
100g
Quantity
50g
Quantity
75g
Quantity
pinch
Quantity
to serve
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| Bramley applespeeled, cored and roughly chopped | 500g |
| blackberriespreferably wild, picked over | 350g |
| golden caster sugar (for the fruit) | 2 tablespoons |
| plain flour (for the fruit) | 1 tablespoon |
| lemon zest | half a lemon |
| plain flour (for the crumble) | 200g |
| cold unsalted buttercubed | 125g |
| demerara sugar | 100g |
| rolled oats | 50g |
| golden caster sugar (for the crumble) | 75g |
| fine sea salt | pinch |
| double cream or proper custard | to serve |
Set the oven to 190C/170C fan. Tip the chopped Bramleys into a bowl with the blackberries, the two tablespoons of caster sugar, the tablespoon of flour, and the lemon zest. Turn it all through with your hands. The flour is there to catch the juice the fruit will throw out in the oven, so the bottom doesn't turn to a puddle. Tip everything into a baking dish of about 1.5 litres. A dish you like the look of. It's going to the table.
Put the 200g of plain flour and the pinch of salt into a big bowl. Add the cold butter. Rub it in with your fingertips, lifting the mixture high out of the bowl as you go, letting it fall back through your hands. You want it to look like rough, sandy breadcrumbs with a few larger lumps left in. Those lumps become the best bits, the crunchy bouldery pieces on top.
Stir in the demerara, the 75g of caster sugar, and the rolled oats. The demerara gives you the crunch and the slight caramel edge. The oats give you texture, a bit of chew, something to hold against the soft fruit underneath. Mix it through with a spoon until it's evenly distributed.
Scatter the crumble over the fruit in a thick, uneven layer. Don't press it down. Don't smooth it. You want peaks and valleys, because the juice will bubble up through the low spots and catch on the high ones, going dark and sticky where it touches. Take it right to the edge of the dish.
Put the dish on a baking tray, because it will bubble over, and the bubbling over is part of the point. Bake for forty to forty-five minutes. It's ready when the top is a deep, even golden brown, when you can see dark purple juice pushing up around the edges and bubbling thickly, and when the kitchen smells of warm apple and something faintly caramel. Trust your nose. It knows before the timer does.
Let it sit for ten minutes out of the oven. This is not optional. Straight from the oven, the juices are molten and will burn your tongue and run everywhere on the plate. Ten minutes of rest and they thicken into something dark and jammy. Serve in generous spoonfuls with cold double cream or warm custard. Both, if the company deserves it.
1 serving (about 240g)
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