
I happen to own, because I am that awesome, an æbleskiver pan.
“I’m sorry, what did you say?” you ask.
Æbleskiver. It’s a Danish treat using apple slices (it’s Danish for ‘apple slices’). They’re like small spherical pancakes/popovers with stuff in them. It’s a food traditionally served with glogg during Advent. You might be reminded of the commercial knock-off, Pancake Puffs, which have recently come on the market. ACCEPT NO SUBSTITUTIONS!
I have the pan because my mother gave it to me. She found it at a second-hand store. Hers came from a relative. We use ours to make the family recipe for Molasses Gems (don’t worry, I’ll give you the how-to for those later).
Anyway, I figured I might as well experiment and see if I could put the pan to its intended use.
Peel two apples and chop them into 1/2″ pieces. I found this made me end up with quite a bit of extra apple, but better to be safe than sorry and you can always serve it on the side.
Your æbleskiver pan is cast iron, and will take a little while to heat up thoroughly. Put it on the burner at medium high heat and leave it while you do other stuff. Just remember that the handle will also get very hot, so be careful. We have these handy silicone sleeves we slip onto our metal handles. You can pick them up pretty much anywhere.
In another pan, sauté the apples in two tablespoons butter until softened but still firm. Sprinkle them with cinnamon and set aside.
In a clean bowl, whip two egg whites until soft peaks form and set aside. The eggs will fluff up the best if you bring them to room temperature first. To do this I put my eggs in a bowl of warm water before separating them.
In another bowl, whisk together your two egg yolks and one tablespoon sugar until creamy.
In yet another bowl, sift together two cups flour with one teaspoon baking powder. Slowly add this, alternating with one and one-half cups buttermilk, to the yolk mixture.
Gently fold the egg whites into the batter.

Test your æbleskiver pan to see if it’s hot enough. Butter should sizzle on its surface. Reduce the heat to medium and drop about one-eighth of a teaspoon butter into each little well to grease. Use a pastry brush to cover all the sides of the well.
Spoon enough batter into each well to fill it halfway. Drop in an apple piece and press it down bit. Be careful not to burn yourself.
Fill the wells to the top.
Allow to cook until the edges of æbleskiver turn brown and begin to pull away from the sides of the pan.
Run a metal or wooden knitting needle (traditional method), skewer, or fork around the edges to loosen the æbleskiver and flip it over inside the well. 
It takes a little bit of practice to do this without getting batter everywhere. By the end of it, though, I had it down. Allow to cook through until you can give it a poke and nothing comes out stuck to your skewer. 
Remove the æbleskiver to a plate and sprinkle with (or roll in) icing sugar or dip in jam to serve.
Maybe try maple syrup. Or home-made fruit sauce. You can of course experiment as well with what goes in the æbleskiver – try other forms of fruit, like mango or strawberry or perhaps something savoury like a nice hard cheese. Here we have it with whipped cream, lemon curd, strawberry jam, and leftover apples.
Make sure to repeat the buttering process each time you put batter into the wells of the pan. You can keep the cooked æbleskiver warm on an oven-safe plate in the oven at 250°F while you’re making the other batches.
This recipe makes about 28 æbleskiver, which is four batches in my 7-well pan.
There is absolutely nothing wrong with a pound cake. Nothing.
I have this recipe written in the beginning of my magic book. From my handwriting I would guess I was about nine when I wrote it. My mother gave me the recipe, and she told me that traditionally, one would use a pound of butter, a pound of sugar, a pound of eggs, and a pound of flour, and that’s what made it a pound cake.









I am heavily into reading the international culinary exploits of Sasha at
Take yourself 2 1/2 teaspoons active dry yeast, 4 1/2 cups unbleached flour, 1/4 cup dry milk powder (a handy thing to keep around the house), 1/3 cup sugar, 1 cup coconut milk (warmed, to help activate the yeast), 3 tablespoons honey, 3 tablespoons softened butter, 1/3 cup vegetable oil, and 3 eggs. Chuck those in the bowl of your mixer in the order given.



Sasha says the dough is enough to fit in one Pullman-sized loaf pan or two regular bread pans. Pop your dough in an oiled pan or two and leave it to rise for another 30 minutes and preheat your oven to 350°F.
My loaf didn’t brown, but I’m not offended. My oven isn’t the kind of oven that browns things. I also failed to get either loaf out of the pan in one piece.
There are so, so very many bananas in my freezer. I swear that the Pie doesn’t eat the fresh bananas simply so I will chuck them in the freezer in anticipation of me having a banana bread fest. He loves banana bread. More than he loves me. Honest.
The Pie, having nothing to keep him occupied, decided to help me today. He has never made banana bread before. He absolutely refused to touch the bananas in their black skins. He promised me he would do all the raw chicken touching for the rest of our lives if I would do the banana stuff. I’m okay with that.


Pour this into the banana mixture and mush it in with a fork until the bananas are all separated into small pieces. The Pie helped me with this part, but under duress. Set them aside for the nonce.
In a large bowl, beat together 2 eggs, 1 cup room temperature butter (that’s half of one of those 1-pound blocks), and 1 1/3 cups granulated sugar until fluffy.


The mixture should look slightly curdled at this point, and weird tendrils of banana fibre will stick to your mixing utensil and may gross you out. The Pie said, at this point, “This – making banana bread for the first time – is kind of like seeing a woman give birth. It’s something that you can’t un-see, and it will always affect how you see it in the future.”

Fold in your flour mixture, a little at a time. If you want to put in chocolate chips or walnuts or whatever, now is the time to do so. The Pie is a purist, however, so we have ours plain.
If you are following my lead and doing more than two loaves, do all your batches separately (in case of measuring mistakes) and don’t mix your wet and dry ingredients together in the other batches until you are ready to bake them. Don’t want no chemical reactions to start too early.
Divide your batter between two greased loaf pans and smooth the tops. I’ve been having trouble getting my extra-crumbly loaf out of the pan in one piece, so this time I decided to line them with parchment paper to ease the passage. It was an experiment that worked out really well because it was a snap to use the edges of the paper to lift out the cooked loaves. Then I just peeled off the paper and left the loaf on the rack to cool.


Because the weather outside refuses to cooperate, I wholeheartedly reject the idea that it is actually spring out there. Accordingly, I’m still making the steamy comfort food characteristic of the winter months. These little pies come out of the oven molten hot, and the tart flavours of the sauce really accent the classy biscuit topping.








These are the Pie’s favourite variety of cookie, though he won’t kick any other kind out of bed, either. This one comes from the Joy of Cooking (1997 edition, page 822). It’s easiest to do this one outside the stand mixer, as the oats tend to tax the motor a bit.



Stir the flour mixture into the butter mixture until well blended and smooth. You will get quite a workout, I promise.






Don’t forget what I told you
I have designated certain days in my life as chocolate cake days. You know, those days where things tend to go wrong, and you end up with 
Butter up two 9″ x 2″ cake pans and place pretty circles of parchment paper (not to be mistaken with waxed paper, that would be a bad idea) in the bottom of each. I used a compass because I have a good attention to detail (the Pie called me a nerd for doing so but HE’s the one who wrote a remote sensing exam today). Put those pans somewhere and work on the other stuff.

Add 2 eggs, one at a time. Don’t forget to scrape down the sides of the bowl on occasion.




You can tell it’s done when you stick a toothpick in the centre and it comes out clean. I found that mine took an extra five minutes. Make sure the cake is completely cool before you think about icing it. When removing from the pan, run a spatula around the edge to loosen the sucker. Due to time constraints, I actually made up the cake part the day before, then wrapped it tightly in plastic over night, and made the frosting the next day.
In a double boiler or a bowl set over (but not touching) a pot of barely simmering water, melt 10 oz good quality chocolate (your preference for the type) in 1/2 cup cream. Just so you know, an ounce of chocolate is one of those squares in the boxes of baking chocolate.

Remove from heat and cut in 3/4 cup butter. Whisk until butter is thoroughly melted and mixed in and the mixture is smooth and velvety. Let your ganache cool until it’s spreadable, which could take up to an hour (your cake will take probably this long to cool anyway). Be sure to give the cooled ganache a good whisk to fluff it up a little.

I made another modification here. I took the leftover frozen glaze from the previous angel’s food cake and decided to put it on this one as well. It seemed fitting. All I did was defrost the glaze and whisk it up a little. It was slightly lumpy after its time in the freezer but it tasted the same.















