
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 damsons baked beneath a buttery, almond-flecked crumble until they burst and stain the whole dish a deep, inky purple. A short September pudding, worth the fortnight it's good for.
Damsons arrive in a hurry and leave in one. A fortnight, maybe three weeks if the weather holds, somewhere in the back end of September. I walked past a tree on the lane last week and saw them for the first time this year: small, oval, dusty-blue in the hedge, ducking under their own leaves. You could almost miss them. Most people do.
They're too tart to eat from the hand. That's the point of them. What they want is heat and sugar and time, and what they give back, once they've had all three, is a flavour no other fruit in the British year can match. Deep, winey, a bit sharp at the edge, like a plum that's had a harder life. Baked under a crumble, they burst their skins and stain everything purple-black, and you end up with a pudding that tastes like the turn of the season.
The crumble itself doesn't want to be clever. Flour, butter, demerara, oats, a handful of almonds for the top. Rubbed loose so the fruit can push through in places. I wrote it down in the notebook years ago: damsons, demerara, cold cream, Sunday. The note hasn't changed because the pudding hasn't needed to.
A word on the stones. Leave them in. Yes, really. Stoning damsons is the kind of job that takes an hour and tries your patience and at the end of it you've still got half of them mashed. Bake them whole, warn the people at the table, and let everyone fish the stones out on their own plates. There are few better feelings than putting a warm bowl of this in front of someone on a cold September evening. It's the pudding that says the summer is properly done.
Quantity
900g
washed, stones left in
Quantity
120g
for the fruit
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
200g
Quantity
125g
cubed
Quantity
90g
Quantity
50g
Quantity
50g
Quantity
pinch
Quantity
to serve
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| damsonswashed, stones left in | 900g |
| golden caster sugarfor the fruit | 120g |
| cornflour | 1 tablespoon |
| plain flour | 200g |
| cold unsalted buttercubed | 125g |
| demerara sugar | 90g |
| rolled oats | 50g |
| flaked almonds | 50g |
| fine sea salt | pinch |
| double cream or proper custard (optional) | to serve |
Set the oven to 190C/170C fan. Tip the damsons into a deep pie dish, roughly 1.5 litres. Don't bother stoning them. Life is too short and the stones come out easily enough on the plate. Scatter the caster sugar and cornflour over the top and shake the dish gently to work it through. The fruit will look barely touched. That's right. The sugar wakes up once it hits the heat.
Put the flour and the salt in a large bowl. Add the cold butter. Rub it in with your fingertips, lifting the mixture up and letting it fall back into the bowl as you go. You want the texture of rough breadcrumbs with a few larger, pea-sized lumps of butter still visible. Those lumps become the craggy, golden bits on top. Stop before it turns to paste.
Stir in the demerara sugar, the oats, and the flaked almonds. Use a spoon now, not your hands. The demerara is what gives the top its crunch and that faint toffee edge, so don't be tempted to swap it for anything finer. Taste a pinch. It should be sweet, nutty, slightly salty.
Tip the crumble over the damsons in loose handfuls. Don't press it down and don't worry about covering every last patch of fruit. You want the topping rubbly and uneven, with the odd gap for the purple juices to come bubbling through. A smooth, pressed-down crumble bakes into a biscuit lid. That isn't what we're after.
Put the dish on a baking tray, because the juices will escape and you'll thank yourself later. Bake for forty to forty-five minutes. It's ready when the top is a deep golden brown and the damson juices are bubbling up around the edges in thick, purple-black pools. The kitchen will smell of toasted almonds and warm fruit, almost like jam on the stove. That's your cue. Let it sit on the side for ten minutes before serving. The fruit is molten straight from the oven and will take the roof of your mouth off if you rush it.
Spoon generously into bowls, making sure everyone gets both topping and fruit. Pour cold double cream over the top and watch it meet the warm crumble and start to pool. Custard is also right, if you're the custard sort. Both is not unreasonable. Season and taste. Then taste again.
1 serving (about 240g)
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