
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.
A cooking platform built around craft, culture, and the stories behind what we eat.

Created by Chef Thomas
A simple pudding of sharp Bramley apples baked under a buttery sponge lid, turning golden on top while the fruit beneath collapses into something warm and generous.
There's a particular kind of October evening that asks for this pudding. The sort where it's been raining on and off all day, the light goes early, and the kitchen is the warmest room in the house. You've got a bag of Bramleys sitting on the side because the garden has given you more than you know what to do with, and you want something that doesn't ask too much of you but gives back properly.
Eve's pudding is that something. Sharp cooking apples in the bottom of a dish, a Victoria sponge batter dolloped over the top, the whole thing baked until the sponge is golden and the apples underneath have gone soft and sweet-sour and faintly jammy at the edges. It's the kind of pudding that's been made in British kitchens for generations because it works. Named, I suppose, for the apple in the garden, though I don't think about that when I'm making it. I think about the smell of the butter and vanilla meeting the tart steam coming off the fruit.
A recipe is a conversation, not a contract. If you've got blackberries from a hedgerow walk, tuck a handful in among the apples. If you've got a quince, grate some in. But the classic, the one I wrote down in the notebook years ago and haven't felt the need to change, is just apples and sponge. Bramleys, because nothing else falls apart quite the way they do. Good butter, because the sponge has so few ingredients that each one is exposed.
Serve it hot, with cold cream poured from a jug so it pools and melts into the sponge. There are few better feelings on a dark evening than putting a dish of this in the middle of the table and letting people help themselves. We're only making dinner. But some dinners stay with you longer than others.
Quantity
700g
peeled, cored and sliced
Quantity
2 tablespoons
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
half a lemon
Quantity
small squeeze
Quantity
125g
softened
Quantity
125g
Quantity
2
at room temperature
Quantity
125g
Quantity
1 teaspoon
Quantity
a splash
Quantity
1 tablespoon
for scattering
Quantity
to serve
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| Bramley cooking applespeeled, cored and sliced | 700g |
| golden caster sugar (for the apples) | 2 tablespoons |
| water | 1 tablespoon |
| lemon zest | half a lemon |
| lemon juice | small squeeze |
| unsalted buttersoftened | 125g |
| golden caster sugar | 125g |
| large eggsat room temperature | 2 |
| self-raising flour | 125g |
| vanilla extract | 1 teaspoon |
| milk (optional) | a splash |
| demerara sugarfor scattering | 1 tablespoon |
| double cream or custard | to serve |
Set the oven to 180C/160C fan. Butter a medium ovenproof dish, something that holds about 1.5 litres. Peel and core the apples and slice them fairly thick, half a centimetre or so. Bramleys collapse quickly, and slices any thinner will disappear into a puree before the sponge is done. Tip them into the dish with the two tablespoons of sugar, the water, the lemon zest and a small squeeze of juice. Toss it all together with your hands and spread it level.
Put the soft butter and caster sugar in a bowl and beat them together until the mixture looks pale and fluffy and has lost all its graininess. Five minutes by hand, three with a mixer. This is the one step worth being patient about. The air you beat in now is the lift the sponge will have later.
Crack in the eggs one at a time, beating well after each. Add the vanilla. If the mixture looks like it's starting to curdle, add a spoonful of the flour and carry on. Sift in the rest of the flour and fold it through gently with a large spoon or spatula. Stop the moment it's combined. The batter should drop reluctantly from the spoon. If it feels tight, loosen it with a splash of milk.
Dollop the sponge batter over the apples in rough spoonfuls, then spread it gently to the edges of the dish. Don't worry about covering every last gap. The batter will find its way as it bakes, and a few bits of apple peeking through at the edges is part of the pleasure. Scatter the demerara over the top for a bit of crunch.
Slide the dish into the oven and bake for forty to forty-five minutes. The top should be risen and deep gold, the edges pulling slightly away from the dish, and the apple juices bubbling up around the rim in a dark, sticky ring. A skewer into the centre of the sponge should come out clean. Your nose will tell you before the timer does: butter, vanilla, warm apple, and that faint caramel note from the edges catching.
Let it sit for ten minutes before serving. The apples underneath are lava straight from the oven, and the sponge needs a moment to settle. Spoon it out into bowls, making sure everyone gets both the golden lid and the soft fruit beneath. Pour cold double cream over the top, or proper custard if you've made it. Eat it straight away.
1 serving (about 190g)
Culinary guides, cultural storytelling, and the editorial depth that makes cooking meaningful.
Discover Culinary Explorer
Chef Thomas
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.

Chef Thomas
Whole Bramley apples cored and stuffed with butter, brown sugar and plump dried fruit, baked until they collapse and the kitchen fills with the smell of autumn getting on with itself.

Chef Thomas
A proper baked rice pudding, slow-cooked in whole milk with butter and nutmeg until the top sets into a freckled golden skin. The kind of pudding that makes January feel like less of a long haul.

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.