Apple Cake
Apples were never something Lely fussed over. They were just always there – sitting in a bowl on the table, ready to be peeled, sliced, and turned into something warm without much thought.
She didn’t measure much, didn’t overcomplicate things, and never believed a cake needed dressing up to be good. I remember standing beside her, watching her work quickly and confidently, the sound of apples hitting the bowl and the smell already building before the cake even went into the oven.
She used to say that a good apple cake wasn’t about perfection – it was about softness, warmth, and making something comforting out of what you had.
This is exactly that kind of cake. Simple, honest, and the kind that fills the house with the smell of home long before it’s ready to eat.
