This cake could be served in a glass – it’s essentially an after-dinner drink and dessert all in one. Because you soak the cake in bourbon. You don’t add frosting or top it with whipped cream. You just pour a layer of bourbon sauce over the cake that seeps down into every pore and overpowers whatever else is there. It’s called a bourbon apple cake, but the apple taste – or cake taste for the matter – is pretty minimal. It’s like crumbly bourbon. It’s fantastic. 

I know I’ve seen recipes for these cakes before, but they are always in a bundt cake shape and look a little high maintenance. One thing that doesn’t make the cut in a small kitchen is a bundt cake pan. But this recipe can fit a 9x13 pan and is actually pretty simple. You certainly don’t have to worry what the cake itself tastes like. It won’t matter once the whiskey takes hold. And if it isn’t obvious, this is for people who like a strong whiskey flavor.
 
So if you are looking for something a little different for Thanksgiving this year other than a pie or something pumpkin, whip up this cake, pour over the bourbon, and voila. Just don’t set it too close to the candles. 

Recipe is from the NY Times and Mark Bittman.

Bourbon Apple Cake
​
Ingredients:

• 2 sticks butter, softened, more for greasing pan
• 2 medium apples (about 8 ounces), peeled, cored and quartered
• 2 1/2 cups sugar
• 4 eggs
• 2 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1/2 teaspoon salt
• 1/2 cup milk
• 1 cup bourbon

 
Instructions:

• Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Grease a 9-by-13-inch rectangular pan with butter.
• Puree apples in a food processor, then remove and set aside.
• In food processor, combine 1 1/2 cups butter (12 tablespoons) with 1 1/2 cups sugar and pulse until combined.
• Add eggs one at a time. Add apple puree and process until just combined.
• In a large bowl, combine flour, baking powder, and salt.
• Add about a third of flour mixture to apple mixture in food processor. Then, with motor running, add about half of milk; add another third of flour, followed by rest of milk, then finally last of the flour. Process until batter just evens out.
• Pour batter into prepared pan and bake until middle is set (your fingers should leave only a small indentation when you gently press cake), 45 to 50 minutes. When done, cool in pan for about 10 minutes.
• Meanwhile, combine 1 cup bourbon in a small pot with remaining butter and sugar. Cook, stirring occasionally, until sugar is dissolved and liquid is slightly thickened, about 10 minutes. Let cool to room temperature.
• Pour whiskey sauce over cake; let it sit for at least an hour before serving.
• Store at room temperature, covered with waxed paper, for up to 2 days.

Thanksgiving always reminds me of my grandma and her pies. I loved my grandma's pies. The dough did not stick to the counter while she rolled out the crust or shrink in the pan when she baked it. The insides didn’t run everywhere when she cut into it. Her pies didn’t taste too sweet. Together, we would pinch the dough all around the dish to scallop the edges, and it was just soft enough and hung over just the right amount.
 
I am sorry to say that my pies – while usually edible – are not my grandma’s. It’s hard to go wrong with the insides, usually some variation of fruit, sugar, and whiskey. But those crusts! I’ve watched Martha Stewart videos claiming how easy it is. I’ve taken recipe recommendations from people who swear by whatever version of butter and flour they always use.  I’ve consulted Google for advice. But then I go to roll it out and even if I get something that I can put in the pan, the taste is usually dull and the consistency a bit like powder.
 
This year I was determined to make a pie that I wanted to eat. Starting with cherries that I froze while they were in season, a recipe that claimed to resemble a Manhattan cocktail (I love to eat my drinks), and very concerted crust practice. 

Pie crusts are now piled in my freezer, and I resorted to making quiche to test them out. I also rewatched Martha Stewart on rolling out the dough and the New York Times video on how to make a lattice crust – twice. And in the end? I have a very pretty pie. I held off from tasting it before Thanksgiving dinner (just barely!), but it looks very promising. And the recipe for the insides sounds delicious enough to drink.
 
For the crust, I went with the one my mom swears by. And again, she was right – Martha Stewart.
 
For the lattice top, the New York Times features this tutorial.
 
And the recipe for inside came from this Food Network recipe. Yes, I Googled cherry pie+bourbon.
 
Ingredients
Cherry Filling:

• 4 to 5 cups cherries, pitted and halved
• 1/2 cup sugar
• Juice of 1 lemon
• 2 tablespoons cooking tapioca
• 1 tablespoon bourbon
• 1 teaspoon pure almond extract
• 1 teaspoon orange bitters

Directions
Combine the cherries, sugar and lemon juice in a saucepan. Bring to a boil. Sprinkle with the tapioca and simmer for 5 minutes. Pour into a large bowl and stir in the bourbon, almond extract, and orange bitters. Let cool and refrigerate for about 1 hour.

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees and place the oven rack in the lower third of the oven.

Divide the dough into 2 equal pieces. Roll each dough piece on a lightly-floured surface into a 12-inch disk. Gently place one disk into a 9-inch pie pan, letting about an inch hang over all around. Pour the cherry filling into the prepared pie shell. Cut the other disk into strips to form the lattice topping. Fold the bottom crust dough over the edges of the lattice and pinch around the edges to secure. Lightly brush the pastry shell with cream and sprinkle with a little sugar. Place the pie on a larger baking sheet lined with parchment paper to catch any spills. Bake the pie until the crust is a deep golden brown color and the cherry juices are starting to bubble, 35 to 45 minutes.

Thanksgiving prep is in full swing. Whiskey cranberry sauce is marinating in the fridge, pie crusts are chilling as they wait for their cherry bourbon filling, and the Scotch is on deck to jump into the whipped cream. And I am thankful to be hosting some gluten-free guests this year to test out a new recipe – gluten free pumpkin squares with (yum!) a cream cheese bourbon vanilla bean frosting.
 
I would say that the pumpkin squares are obviously my way to justify eating that frosting, but in fact, the pumpkin squares are worth eating also. They have a nice cake-like texture, not too sweet (but definitely a dessert), and I would actually recommend going light on the frosting layer. The frosting is delightful and fine eaten with a spoon, but you don’t want the sweet to overpower the spice of the cake.
 
These make a nice alternative to pumpkin pie and are yummy enough that this might become a fall staple. If you have a lot you are baking and preparing, these are also great because the instructions are the equivalent of “mix it all in a bowl, stick it in the pan, and put it in the oven.” 

​I send a shout out to the blog finding joy for the pumpkin square recipe, and to something edible for adding whiskey to its cream cheese frosting recipe.
 
Gluten Free Pumpkin Squares
 
Ingredients:

• 4 eggs
• 2 cups sugar
• 1 cup vegetable oil
• 1 can (15 ounces) pumpkin (not pumpkin pie mix)
• 2 cups flour (I used King Arthur Gluten Free All Purpose Flour plus one teaspoon xanthum gum)
• 2 teaspoons baking powder
• 1 teaspoon baking soda
• 2 teaspoons ground cinnamon
• 1/2 teaspoon ground ginger
• 1/4 teaspoon ground cloves
• 1/2 teaspoon salt

 
Instructions
Heat oven to 350 degrees. Grease the bottom and sides of a jelly roll pan. Beat the eggs, sugar, oil, and pumpkin in a large bowl until smooth. Stir in the flour, xanthum gum, baking powder, baking soda, cinnamon, ginger, cloves, and salt. Spread the batter in the pan and smooth. Bake in the oven for 25-30 minutes, or until light brown. Let cool completely for one hour.
 
Cream Cheese Bourbon Vanilla Bean Frosting
·  3 oz light cream cheese
·  2 teaspoons bourbon
·  Pulp of 1 vanilla bean 
·  1/2 cup butter 
·  2 cups powdered sugar 

Instructions:
Using a stand mixer with the whisk attachment, mix all the ingredients except the powdered sugar on medium-high speed, stopping to scrape the bowl as necessary. With the mixer still on medium high sped, adding the powdered sugar by the tablespoonful, scraping the bowl as necessary until all the sugar is and the mixture has that whipped consistency. Test liberally, but do no immediately eat all of the frosting. Save some for the pumpkin squares!
 

​I love receiving packages in the mail. Especially when those packages contain Scotch. My latest delivery was an adorable little sample bottle of Highland Park Ice Edition. Highland Park was one of my first memorable Scotches and set me on a path of good drinking. I have drunk several different expressions of Highland Park and easily made friends with all of them – but this one was new and special, which piqued my interest.
 
I really wanted to like it and make another friend. However, we just did not get along. I promise I tried. After my initial confrontation, I thought maybe we should take a break. Try again. Maybe it was my mood the first time or something I ate.  I neglected it in a cupboard a little longer than I would normally leave an open bottle of Scotch.

But second time, there it was – it tasted like if you sucked on one of those blue mint bulk candies you take as you leave as a restaurant and then drink alcohol. The smoke is faint on the nose, but sticks to the mouth and coats the tongue once you drink, so I couldn’t tell if any other flavors were hiding there. And I’m a smoke girl – Lagavulin and I have spent many an evening together. But I didn’t feel this whisky had the roundness of flavor beneath the smoke. And I missed the balance of the other Highland Parks. 
 
I sigh for the relationship we could have had. And move on down the whisky shelf.  ​

​The only sign that a bar was hidden behind the door in the hut at the side of the 2nd floor East Village restaurant was the line that formed before 6 p.m., spilling down the stairs. Once the bar opened, groups of trendy hipsters flowed through the door, virtually unnoticed by the rest of the guests dining on sushi and ramen in the main dining room.
 
When we passed through the door, we stepped from a bustling Japanese restaurant playing pop music into a stylish bar with velvet drapes tucked at the corners of high windows, brick walls, and a mural of cherubs above the bar. Already full at 6:15 with people comfortably seated – no standing – at the bar and intimate tables in the main and side room, the place had a steady hum of conversation with the sounds of jazz and cocktail shakers in the background.
 
We were seated at the bar, which gave us the best view of two busy bartenders with their 20’s style vests and shirt sleeves rolled and tied, calmly but continuously adding dollops and tips of this and that to the shakers, and pouring out brightly colored cocktails. 

​The bar, officially called Angel’s Share, although it has no sign, has a decent whiskey collection, with many Scotch options and one of the more varied Japanese whisky corners I have seen. Two of their whiskey cocktails peaked our interest – Smoke in Your Eyes with Bulleit bourbon and John “Malted” Collins with Japanese whisky.
 
You have to love a cocktail where one of the ingredients is “smoke.” For Smoke in Your Eyes, they light a little fire on a little plate, then stick a brandy glass upside down over the fire, so it fills with smoke. When they bring it to you, the server turns over the glass and pours in the cocktail with smoke still rising. It’s a little gimmicky – you get a nose full of smoke while it doesn’t infuse much into the drink itself. But it’s a classy gimmick, and the point of visiting a secret bar when you are surrounded by a city of non-secret bars is to have a little fun with it.

​I was actually more impressed with the John “Malted” Collins, which the server described is sweet and sour, and which ended up being very light, refreshing, and smooth. It was made with IWAI Japanese whisky, koji jam, citrus, egg white, soda, and dashi soy powder. Yeah, I had no idea what that would taste like, either, but it was a well balanced cocktail – a little creamy and a little citrusy – where all the flavors blended rather than knocked up against each other.
 
The main problem with the bar is how incredibly pleasant it is. Except for the light fading outside the window, time just sort of became irrelevant. I could have sat there well into the evening, but we eventually pulled ourselves out of our seats, past the line of people by the door, and burst into a crowded restaurant and out into the busy New York streets.