the greatest coffeecake in the world*

* because Apple Pear Honey-Bourbon Caramel Coffee Crumb Cake is just too long.

Last night, I baked something amazing.

Riffing on two recipes and a lifetime in my mother’s kitchen, I pulled together an apple-pear coffee cake with honey-bourbon caramel and enormous chunky crumb-topping.

The basic coffeecake recipe was from smittenkitchen.com, where all of my greatest culinary inspiration comes from lately. The caramel recipe was borrowed from a sassyradish.com peach pie, and the filling was my own improvisation.

First, the filling:

• One pear and one giant mutant apple, chopped roughly. (Roughly equivalent to a normal apple and three pears, or two apples and a pear.)
• About a half-tablespoon of skinned and very finely chopped fresh ginger.
• About a quarter-cup of Maker’s Mark bourbon.
• About a third of a cup of dark brown sugar.
• One cinnamon stick. (I pulverized mine in a coffeegrinder. This also imparted a hint of coffee-flavor to the coffeecake! And the cross-contamination is okay, because Cristo always adds cinnamon to our coffee before brewing it.)

I mixed this all up very thoroughly in a large bowl, and let it marinate in the fridge for two or three hours.

Next we make the crumbs, not quite following SK’s recipe:

• 1/3 cup dark brown sugar
• 1/3 cup granulated sugar
• 1 teaspoon ground cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger (I used closer to 1 tsp of freshly chopped ginger)
• 1/8 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup (1 stick or 4 ounces) butter, melted
• 1 3/4 cups cake flour (I was out and used all-purpose and it worked great)

I used New Zealand butter; I was hoping to find French or Irish, because I find it has about ten times more flavor than the bland American stuff. Use a whisk to add the sugars and spices to the melted butter. It gets very swamp-gooey very quickly. It’s extremely difficult to incorporate the flour after the first ½ cup goes in, and you should switch to a spatula to blend in the flour. She recommends doing this as a last step. Adding flour by quarter-cups, I was only able to get 1¼ cups in, and it worked just fine. This mixture becomes so very solid that you can slice it with a knife, and that’s the point. Compact it as tightly as you can with the back of a wooden spoon or spatula, or the heel of your palm, in whatever bowl you’re mixing it in, and let it sit firm. No need to refrigerate, but definitely keep it in a cool place.

And now the cake batter itself:

• 1/3 cup sour cream
• 1 large egg
• 1 large egg yolk
• 2 teaspoons vanilla extract
• 1 cup cake flour (ditto on the all-purpose flour — worked just fine)
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 1/2 teaspoon baking soda
• 1/2 teaspoon baking powder
• 1/4 teaspoon salt
• 6 tablespoons softened butter, cut into 8 pieces.

I didn’t alter this part of the recipe, although I did deviate a bit in the process. Deb’s instructions are: To prepare cake, in a small bowl, stir together the sour cream, egg, egg yolk and vanilla. Using a mixer fitted with paddle attachment, mix together flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder and salt. Add butter and a spoonful of sour cream mixture and mix on medium speed until flour is moistened. Increase speed and beat for 30 seconds. Add remaining sour cream mixture in two batches, beating for 20 seconds after each addition, and scraping down the sides of bowl with a spatula. (Chris note: I couldn’t find my paddle attachment, and I added the sour cream mixture all in one go. Oops.)

Now, here’s the fun and terrifying part: making caramel. The details:

• 1/4 cup mild honey
• 2 tbsp bourbon (Maker’s Mark, naturally.)
• 2 tablespoons water (I used orange-mango juice, which was amazing. It adds extra sugars, obviously, but not adversely.)
• 1/2 cup sugar
• 3 tablespoons unsalted butter

Don’t add the butter yet! (I ended up fishing it out of a warm pot.) Sassyradish says: Bring 1/2 cup sugar, honey, and bourbon and water to a boil in a 1 1/2- to 2-qt heavy saucepan over medium-high heat, stirring until sugar has dissolved, then wash down any sugar crystals from side of pan with a pastry brush dipped in cold water. Boil without stirring, swirling pan occasionally so caramel colors evenly, until dark amber, about 5 minutes. I say: Definitely use a whisk to combine these ingredients. Letting booze and sugars rumble on my stovetop at a full boil without stirring for a substantial time was nerve-curdling. I was also using a black-bottomed saucepan, so it was very difficult for me to gauge the color. But I know that the darker it gets, the richer the flavors, so I let it go, and used a wooden spoon to judge the color and depth of taste. Once it’s the right shade, turn off the heat. Drop in the butter. Pick up the pot, and swirl, swirl, swirl the butter around in it until it’s completely melted. Set aside.

Assembling the cake! Pour about two-thirds of cake batter into a greased cake pan. Be aware the amount of fruit filling I made threw the proportions off, and my cake completely overflowed its pan. Next time, I’ll use a seven- or eight-inch springform pan. You should use something about that diameter and at least three inches tall. Or a lasagne-type pan. Word to the wise. Then, pour all of the fruit over the cake. Pour all of the caramel over the fruit. Use a spatula to pour and roughly spread the remaining batter into the pan. It won’t—and doesn’t have to—cover the fruit and caramel. Here’s another fun part: take a very sharp knife, and slice straight down into the compacted crumbs, making two parallel gashes. Tug out a brick of crumb. It will be very solid, but you will be able to snap it into halves or thirds. If you’ve ever played with red-dirt clay as a child, it has that texture. I like giant crumbs on my coffeecake, but you can break them down into whatever size you like. Arrange the crumbs on top of the cake, covering every bit of it. Any loose crumbly bits of brown sugar-mix, you can just sprinkle out overtop. Bake for 40-60 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean. Keep in mind this will be relative, because of all the caramel goodness. Cool completely (another 40-60 minutes) before serving.

It’s really good a just little bit warm. You’ll almost need a spoon to serve this, because the cake becomes super-saturated with all of the fruit juices, almost like a bread pudding. My initial plan was to make a batch of sweet homemade Maker’s Mark- or Jameson-infused whipped cream (heavy whipping cream plus confectioner’s sugar) to serve with the cake—it would have been awesome, but it didn’t need it.

Figure i. Comparison between the giant mutant apple and an average-sized apple.

Figure ii. The cake cooling.

Figure iii. Giant crumbs and rising caramel.

Figure iv. Caramel and caramelized juicy goodness.