Fall, 1989. As the leaves turned a beautiful burnt orange and the cold-weather clothing was retrieved from storage, I’d hear a familiar warning as I reached into the refrigerator:
“Don’t drink all the apple juice!”
I can still hear my mom’s voice, issuing the command as I hurriedly selected a different beverage. Because in my childhood home, fall meant long walks, oversized hoodies and my mom’s special Apple Juice Cake. I’m not quite sure why it was only baked in those selected months; perhaps it’s because the cake paired well with strong, hot coffee and was the perfect comfort food on a lazy Sunday afternoon.
Regardless, as soon as the weather cools and the days become shorter, I find myself thinking about that cake, made with simple ingredients that I always have on hand. Today, I continue the tradition during the autumn months with my own boys. To them, it’s Grandma’s Apple Juice Cake. To me, it’s a piece of my childhood. …