Apples are from Central Asia 🍎 🍏

As an apple tree among the trees of the forest,

   so is my beloved among the young men.

With great delight I sat in his shadow,

   and his fruit was sweet to my taste.

He brought me to the banqueting house,

   and his banner over me was love.

Sustain me with raisins;

   refresh me with apples,

   for I am sick with love.

— Song of Solomon 2:3–5 (ESV)

Burnt. At first glance, my cake appears to be screaming that word. It's as if it is trying to emulate its more celebrated and ostentatious Spanish cousin: the gazta–tarta of Donostia (San Sebastián). But the truth of the matter is, this baked good is just quite ordinary, if not parsimoniously made.

Apples, Cheddar cheese, Greek yoğurt, pancake mix, and eggs—these were the fridge and pantry leftovers that I wanted to get rid of, but didn't want to waste. So I decided to combine them all together and this sweet little thing was the outcome: Apple Cheesecake.

The apples I used were probably a combination of Pink Lady and Royal Gala. It's very interesting that we have a lot of apple varieties down here in Australia. APAL (Apple and Pear Australia Ltd) lists the commercially grown cultivars here in the great south land: https://www.aussieapples.com.au/varieties   I have yet to try and taste them all!

Historically, apples most likely originated in Asia and is supported by recent scientific studies. Russian botanist Nikolai Vavilov was the first one to propose that Central Asia is the domesticated apple's centre of origin. Meanwhile, French–Swiss scientist Alphonse de Candolle postulated the apple to have existed in Europe, both wild and cultivated, from prehistoric times. He adds that it is also indigenous in Anatolia (modern–day Turkey), the south of the Caucasus, and northern Russia, and that its cultivation began early everywhere.

The erudite English scholar Alan Davidson writes that the main ancestors of the modern apple were Malus sylvestris (the common crab apple) and Malus pumila × mitis, a native of the Caucasus where it still grows wild. There is evidence that such apples were being eaten 8,000 years ago or more, and it is thought that some success had already been achieved by 2000 BC in coaxing the unpromising trees to yield larger and fleshier fruits. The first written mention of apples is usually said to be by Homer, in his Odyssey. But the word he used, melon, was applied by the Greeks to almost any kind of round fruit which grew on a tree. Thus the legendary apples of Greek myth—given by Paris to Aphrodite, or growing in the Hesperides—may have been other kinds of fruit, or no particular kind at all. Similarly, the apples with which the Shulamite in the Song of Solomon (chapter 2, verses 3–5) asked to be comforted were probably quinces. (It is true that the quince, being sour, is not a comforting fruit to eat, but its smell was deemed agreeable.) Nor is the Bible specific about the nature of the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil. The notion that this was an apple tree came much later.

Although lacking visual appeal in the looks department and perhaps it's not the apple of your eye, this Apple Cheesecake is a must try!

References:

Davidson A and Knox C. 1991. Fruit: a connoisseur's guide and cookbook. New York: Simon and Schuster. pp. 10–13 https://archive.org/details/fruitconnoisseur00davi de Candolle A. 1959. Origin of Cultivated Plants. New York: Hafner Publishing Co. p. 236 — first published in 1886 https://archive.org/details/originofcultiva00cand Juniper BE and Mabberley DJ. 2006. The Story of the Apple. Portland: Timber Press. 219 p. https://archive.org/details/storyofapple0000juni Vavilov N. 1930. "Wild progenitors of the fruit trees of Turkestan and the Caucasus and the problem of the origin of fruit trees" in the Proceedings of the 9th International Horticultural Congress, pp. 271–286 (The Royal Horticultural Society – London) — as cited in Velasco et al. 2010 Velasco R, Zharkikh A, Affourtit J et al. 2010. The genome of the domesticated apple (Malus × domestica Borkh.). Nature Genetics 42:833–839 https://doi.org/10.1038/ng.654 Wang N, Jiang S, Zhang Z et al. 2018. Malus sieversii: the origin, flavonoid synthesis mechanism, and breeding of red–skinned and red–fleshed apples. Horticulture Research 5:70 https://doi.org/10.1038/s41438-018-0084-4

Djeran and the transplants

“He who does not take the time to conquer the artichoke by stages does not deserve to penetrate to its heart. There are no short cuts in life to anything: least of all to the artichoke.”

— Edith Templeton in The Surprise of Cremona (1954)

In the Noongar six–season meteorological calendar, it is currently Djeran here in southwestern Australia. It is the “season of adulthood” when cooler weather begins. Unlike autumn in many areas of the northern hemisphere, the transition between summer and winter landscapes down here in my place is not as stark. Vegetation still abounds everywhere. As long as conditions are conducive, even non-native plants can grow and thrive.

Recently, I’ve felt a little nostalgic—like Proust’s so–called “madeleine moment”—from vegetables given to me by friends from their backyards’ bounty. No, I’m not a freshly installed vegan proselyte. Growing up as a kid, I’ve always loved my nateng (i.e. Ilocano for veggies)—thanks to my parents who hail from the northern Philippine provinces who are known for their gusto for such.

One of the healthy greens I’ve been gifted is this bunch of malunggay leaves (or moringa / horseradish tree). It tastes a bit like spinach. Back in my parents’ home—and in true Ilocano fashion—we mingle these leaves with other vegetables to create inabraw or dinengdeng, a simple dish of mixed veggies tenderised in a broth flavoured with bagoong monamon. While cooking, sometimes we throw in a few cloves of crushed peeled garlic and flaked fried bangus (milkfish) to embolden it. To prepare the malunggay leaves, gently run your clawed fingers through the small stems with a pulling motion. You should feel a slight raspy sound and sensation as you do this.

Malunggay leaves (Moringa oleifera)

The other one is a banana heart, including a couple of banana leaves. The banana heart is the site of the tree’s inflorescence where fruits would eventually develop. It looks like a heart–shaped orb and is often burgundy in colour with satin sheen and streaks of white. Akin to an artichoke, the layers of reddish “petals” are removed one by one to get through the cream–coloured “inner heart”. In between these specialised boat–like leaves, you will find the young banana blossoms which are also edible as long as their tough pistils are plucked first.

Banana heart

Banana blossoms

Banana leaves are highly versatile. In the Philippines, they serve as food wrappers for a plethora of rice– or tuber–based cakes, cooking food en papillote style (e.g. tamales, binalot, pinangat, pinais), as well as place mats or table liners particularly during a “boodle fight” or kamayan feast. (Kamayan means “by hand”; a family style communal meal where diners eat without cutlery and instead use their own hands.) When used as a covering or vessel during cooking, the leaves impart a subtle sweet and fragrant aroma to the food—indeed, like a certain je ne sais quoi.

Since I didn’t need the leaves yet, I preserved them in the freezer. But first, I had to clean and make them pliable by heating them carefully over the stove. In this way, they won’t easily crack and break when you fold them for cold storage.

Banana leaves—fresh and verdant

Preparing the banana leaves for storage in the freezer

Filipino food: Kamayan Feast at Sunda Restaurant (Chicago, U.S.A.)

Filipino kamayan table used as a backdrop poster during the UNESCO World Forum in Parma, Italy (12–13 Sep. 2019 / “Culture and Food: Innovative Strategies for Sustainable Development”)