Yes, that's rum. Yes, I used the whole bottle.
The recipe calls for 4 different kinds of apples. I made a trip out to the Farmer's Market to get said apples. I mention this because I had to drive on I-40 East, a stretch of highway that terrifies me to the very soul of my being, to get to said Farmer's Market. I did it all for you, Fellow French Fridayers. All for you. But these apples are all of different varieties. (And yes, I'm aware that there are 5 apples here, and not 4. Since I one-and-a-halfed the ingredients, I threw in a rogue apple that was left over from a bag of apples we'd bought earlier. I felt sorry for it.)
I was instructed to "generously" butter a springform pan and put it on a parchment-lined baking sheet. Dorie sure does love her parchment paper. . .I'd never used it before embarking on this project. My apples are peering at the pan in the background, beginning to get nervous.
The next image may shock you. I apologize if you feel it is inappropriate. It's what I call Nekkid Apples.
And then it just gets more obscene.
It's OK. You can look now. It's all over.
Mixing everything (except the apples. . .) together:
Now, here, Dorie is very specific. She says, "Switch to a rubber spatula and fold in the apples." And who am I to argue with Miss Greenspan?
Apples folded in. . .
Everything poured into the pan. . .
And into the oven. The recipe said 50 to 60 minutes, but mine took longer. Closer to 75 or 80. I was tired, and not amused.
D actually took that photo, and when I saw it today, I was like, wow. I look SO SAD.
And then it's out of the pan.