Invisible Apple Cake

A French cake that does a "disappearing act" when you bake it

I had a surfeit of apples left after a photo shoot, and while “surfeit” I’m sure is one of those words you’re not supposed to use in food writing, which also includes “unctuous” and “opt” (the latter is supposedly because people don’t use that word in daily life…but I do), I think some of you might not be thrilled if I said I had a sh**tload of apples. So maybe I should just say, I had a lot of apples left over, since I think we’re all a little burnt out on so many controversies, and I’m here to offer up cake.

The French love apples, and even in the height of summer fruit season, 10 times out of 10, if we go to someone’s house when peaches, cherries, nectarines, and strawberries are at their peak, invariably they’ll have a bowl of apples in their kitchen. I think people forget they’re seasonal, but I also think people like the fact that you don’t have to survey them for ripeness every day, which, to me, comes with the “summer fruit” turf. I, too, love apples, but wait until the fall to use them.

This cake is called gâteau invisible aux pommes, invisible apple cake, since (theoretically), the apples meld with the batter as they bake, and the apples become (somewhat) invisible once the cake is baked.

In France, people tend to mix apples in desserts like this. You want an apple that’s not too dry (so I wouldn’t use apples like Granny Smiths, Pippins, or Golden Delicious here), nor do you want one that’ll turn to mush when baked (such as McIntosh) — but you could do as I do, and rather than have a specific apple in mind, go to the store or market and see what they have. I like to eat crisp, tart apples; here, you want one that leans toward the sweeter side, such as Fuji, Honeycrisp, Braeburn, Pink Lady, or Jonagold.

Also, theoretically, you’re supposed to use a mandolin to slice the apples for this cake. When I worked in restaurant kitchens, if all of a sudden you heard someone scream out in pain, you could be pretty sure that it was a person using a mandolin.

I had a fancy Swiss one for a few years, which I never used and gave away during one of my moves. I don’t want to be presumptuous, but I’m guessing a lot of you don’t own one either. If you do have one, great…and this is the place to use it. (Although, please be careful!) I just use a chef’s knife and slice the apples very thinly. The good thing is that any scraps or imperfect slices don’t matter - they’ll just meld into the mix once baked.

As with this French Apple Cake, I often advise my American compatriots to resist adding cinnamon to French apple desserts. French bakers rarely, if ever (okay…never), add cinnamon, preferring to let the flavor of the apples take center stage. They also don’t habitually add vanilla either, but here I do add a little, although you could use a splash of cognac, Calvados (apple brandy), or rum in its place.

The cake may look humble, but it’s really good, packed with apples and apple flavor. I like to serve it with something simple, such as a drizzle of caramel or salted butter caramel sauce or even maple syrup.

But if you want to take it in another direction, a spoonful of fruit sauce, such as raspberry, blackberry, or black currant would do nicely as well.

Invisible Apple Cake (gâteau invisible aux pommes)

Twelve servings

2/3 cup (90g) flour

1/2 cup (100g) sugar

1 teaspoon baking powder, preferably aluminum-free

1/4 teaspoon salt

1/3 cup (80ml) heavy cream

1/3 cup (80ml) whole milk

(Or you can use 2/3 cup (160ml) of half-and-half, or 2/3 cup of whole milk)

3 large eggs, at room temperature

3 tablespoons melted butter, salted or unsalted, cooled to room temperature

1 teaspoon vanilla extract

2 pounds (900g) apples, about 4 large apples, or 5 medium apples

3 tablespoons coarse granulated (such as turbinado) or light brown sugar (optional)

Lightly butter a 8 1/2 to 9-inch (23cm) loaf pan, or a longer, narrower European-style 12” (30cm) loaf pan*. Cut a piece of parchment paper so it fits across the bottom and up over the two long sides, creating two overhangs that you’ll use to lift the cake out of the pan later. Preheat the oven to 350ºF (180ºC).

In a medium-to-large bowl, make a custard by whisking together the flour, sugar, baking powder, salt, heavy cream, and milk until there are no lumps. Whisk in the eggs, melted butter, and vanilla.

Peel the apples and remove the cores and seeds. Slice the apples as thin as possible with a chef’s knife. Don’t worry if some look scrappy or break; once baked in the cake, you won’t see any difference between them and the perfect slices.

Fold the apples in the custard with a spatula as carefully as possible, trying not to break apart the apple slices. (Despite what I said in the previous step, I do try to keep the apple slices here from breaking if I can, just because…)

Use your clean hands to put one-third of the apples soaked in custard into the prepared pan. Level the top so all the apple slices are lying flat, then add half of the remaining apples, leveling the top, then add the remaining apples, making sure all the apples on top are level. Pour any remaining custard over the apples in the pan.

Sprinkle the top with brown sugar and bake the cake until the cake feels set when you press it in the center, about 40 to 45 minutes. Best to go by feel than by exact baking time since apples, and loaf pans, bake differently.

Remove the cake from the oven and let cool 30 minutes. Slide a butter knife around the two shorter edges of the cake, where there’s no parchment paper, to loosen it from the pan. Carefully lift the cake out of the pan using the overhanging parchment paper as handles and place it on a wire cooling rack. Let the cake cool completely to room temperature before serving.

Slice the cake using a serrated bread knife.

Storage: The cake can be kept in the refrigerator for up to three days.

Invisible Apple Cake

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*In this post (below), I discussed a little more in depth what size and type of cake pan I use for cakes here in France, which is 12” by 4.” King Arthur Baking called it a Tea Loaf Pan.