Awarded by Debbie Harwood
I don't think I've met a single person who is repulsed by apple pie, crumble or tarte. In fact, I've probably heard more oohs and aahs about apple desserts than anything else. There has never been a time when apple pies, generally, weren't around in one glorious form or another in NZ. Yesterday I had the most perfect incarnation of apple pie I've ever had - at Esther. I reluctantly ordered dessert - I'm an umami addict and tend to avoid sweet things - but there it was 'apple tarte'. It was the most perfect 7" round of freshly made puff pastry with finely cut slivers of apple with little streaks of red skin fanned inside perfect layer-upon-layer crunchy heaven. I literally swooned. Topped with homemade French vanilla ice cream (I say this because it was a soft golden colour and had fragrant richness). Now, the humble apple pie is like an egg or a steak. Very easily slaughtered but when perfected nothing beats them. This was easily the best version of this Kiwi classic I have ever eaten. I can still taste it now and wild horses won't keep me away!