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Created by Chef Thomas
A proper hedgerow pie of Bramley apples and blackberries under a sugar-crusted pastry lid, the kind of pudding that turns a Sunday in September into something you'll remember.
There's a fortnight in early September when the brambles down the lane are heavy with fruit and the first windfall apples are bruising the grass under the tree. If you're paying attention, you take a bowl out and you don't come back until it's full. Purple fingers. Scratched forearms. The smell of the hedge in your jumper. This is the work that makes the pie taste the way it does, and most of it happens before you've even turned the oven on.
Blackberries and Bramleys are one of those pairings that feels less like a recipe and more like an inevitability. The apples go soft and tart and faintly cidery in the heat. The blackberries bleed through them, staining everything a deep purple-pink, sweetening the sharpness, perfuming the whole thing. Under a buttery pastry lid with a scatter of sugar on top, it becomes the pudding that defines the season. Not summer anymore. Not winter yet. This.
I wrote it down in the notebook the first time I made one, years ago, after a Sunday afternoon spent picking with cold hands. The note just says: brambles, Bramleys, cream, the right kind of evening. I haven't written a better description since.
Serve it warm, not hot, with a jug of cold double cream on the table. We're only making dinner. But this is the pudding that makes you glad you bothered.
Quantity
250g
plus extra for dusting
Quantity
150g
cubed
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
pinch
Quantity
1
Quantity
2-3 tablespoons
Quantity
600g
peeled, cored and sliced thickly
Quantity
350g
picked over
Quantity
100g
plus extra for the top
Quantity
1 tablespoon
Quantity
from half a lemon
Quantity
1
beaten, for glazing
Quantity
to serve
| Ingredient | Quantity |
|---|---|
| plain flourplus extra for dusting | 250g |
| cold unsalted buttercubed | 150g |
| caster sugar | 1 tablespoon |
| fine sea salt | pinch |
| large egg yolk | 1 |
| very cold water | 2-3 tablespoons |
| Bramley applespeeled, cored and sliced thickly | 600g |
| blackberriespicked over | 350g |
| golden caster sugarplus extra for the top | 100g |
| plain flour or cornflour | 1 tablespoon |
| lemon zest | from half a lemon |
| small eggbeaten, for glazing | 1 |
| double cream or vanilla ice cream | to serve |
Tip the flour, salt and tablespoon of caster sugar into a wide bowl. Add the cold cubed butter and rub it in with your fingertips, lifting the mixture as you go to keep it cool. Stop when it looks like coarse breadcrumbs with some butter pieces still the size of small peas. Those flecks of butter are what make the pastry flake. Stir the egg yolk into a tablespoon of the cold water, add to the bowl, and bring it together with a knife, adding more water a teaspoon at a time only if it needs it. The dough should just hold. Press it into a flat disc, wrap it, and rest it in the fridge for at least thirty minutes.
If your blackberries came from a hedgerow, pick them over carefully. There will be the odd leaf, the odd unripe one, the occasional small thing that wasn't expecting to be picked. A quick rinse under cold water, then drain them on a tea towel. Don't soak them. Blackberries are mostly water already and you don't want to wash the flavour away.
Peel the Bramleys, quarter them, take out the cores, and slice them into thick wedges, not slivers. Bramleys collapse in the oven, so if you cut them too small you'll end up with sauce instead of fruit. Tip them into a bowl with the blackberries, the sugar, the spoonful of flour or cornflour, and the lemon zest. Toss gently with your hands. The blackberries will start to bleed into the apples almost immediately, staining them pink. That's the point.
Set the oven to 200C/180C fan. Cut the rested pastry roughly in two, with one piece slightly larger than the other. The bigger piece is for the base. Roll it out on a lightly floured surface to about the thickness of a pound coin and use it to line a 23cm pie dish, letting the edges hang over. Tip the fruit in, mounding it generously in the middle. It will look like a lot. It will cook down.
Roll out the second piece of pastry for the lid. Brush the edge of the base pastry with a little beaten egg, then lay the lid over the fruit. Press the edges together with your fingers or the tines of a fork. Trim away the overhang with a knife. Cut two or three small slashes in the lid so the steam can escape. Brush all over with the beaten egg and scatter with a generous pinch of caster sugar. The sugar gives you that crackled, sparkling top.
Put the pie in the oven and bake for forty-five to fifty minutes. You're looking for a deep, even gold on top and bubbling purple-black juice escaping through the slashes. The smell will tell you before the timer does. When the kitchen smells of warm apples and butter and something faintly jammy, you're nearly there. If the top is browning faster than you'd like, drape a piece of foil loosely over it for the last ten minutes.
Take the pie out and let it sit for at least twenty minutes before cutting. I know. It is difficult. But a hot pie cut straight from the oven runs everywhere and the slices fall apart. A rested pie holds its shape and the flavours settle into themselves. Serve in generous wedges with cold cream poured over from a jug, or a scoop of vanilla ice cream melting into the warm fruit. Both are right.
1 serving (about 250g)
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