Apple Roses in a Winter Storm
The storm had already settled over the hills when I went to the apple store. Snow pressed against the windows, wind worrying at the eaves, the world outside reduced to white and movement. Inside, the house was warm, and the last apples of the autumn harvest sat quietly on the farm kitchen table, skins blushed and freckled, holding the memory of shorter days and gentler weather.
These were the apples that had carried us through autumn — gathered, stored, and saved with care. Now, as winter showed its harsher face, it felt right to use them for something small and comforting, something made slowly while the storm passed through.
Apple roses are simple, but they ask for attention. They reward patience.
I set the oven to warm and filled the kettle. The kitchen smelled faintly of apples before I even began. Each apple was washed and sliced thinly, the knife working carefully to keep the curves intact. The slices slipped into hot water with a squeeze of lemon, just long enough to soften them so they would bend without breaking — like petals coaxed open rather than forced.
On the worktop, I rolled out ready-made puff pastry, the kind that waits quietly in the fridge for days like this. Strips were cut, brushed lightly with melted butter, and sprinkled with soft brown sugar and a dusting of cinnamon. The apples emerged warm and pliable, steam rising as I laid them along the pastry, their red skins peeking above the edge like the blush of rose petals. Rolling them was the most satisfying part. Slowly, carefully, the pastry wrapped around the apples, each turn forming a spiral, each rose finding its shape in my hands. Outside, the wind rose and fell. Inside, time slowed.
Each little rose was placed into a muffin tin, tucked in close, ready for the oven. As they baked, the kitchen filled with the scent of apples and spice, butter and sugar — the unmistakable smell of warmth on a winter day. Snow continued to fall, but the house felt anchored, held.
When they emerged, golden and gently caramelised, I dusted them with icing sugar and set them to cool on the table. They were imperfect, individual, quietly beautiful — just as they should be.
We ate them warm, listening to the storm move across the hills, the last of the autumn harvest transformed into something comforting and fleeting. A small act of making, stitched into a winter day.
Apple Roses — Recipe & Method
You will need:
2–3 apples (red-skinned work beautifully)
Juice of half a lemon
1 sheet ready-rolled puff pastry
2 tbsp melted butter
2–3 tbsp soft brown sugar
1 tsp ground cinnamon
Icing sugar, to finish
Method:
Preheat the oven to 190°C (170°C fan). Lightly grease a muffin tin.
Core the apples and slice them thinly, keeping the skins on.
Place the slices in a bowl with hot water and lemon juice. Leave for 3–5 minutes until softened, then drain and pat dry.
Roll out the puff pastry and cut into strips about 5 cm wide.
Brush each strip with melted butter and sprinkle with brown sugar and cinnamon.
Lay the apple slices along one edge of the pastry, overlapping slightly, skins facing up.
Fold the pastry up over the apples, then roll gently to form a rose.
Place each rose into the muffin tin.
Bake for 35–40 minutes, until golden and fragrant.
Cool slightly and dust with icing sugar before serving.
Best eaten warm, with tea, while the weather does whatever it pleases outside.
Enjoy, Polly x