Ingredients
Method
- Preheat your oven to 350°F (175°C). Grease and line a standard loaf pan with parchment paper because no one likes scrubbing baked-on sugar cement.
- In a mixing bowl, cream together the butter and sugar until light and fluffy. This is the part where you pretend you’re on a baking show and ignore the fact that your mixer sounds like it’s on its last legs.
- Add in the eggs one at a time, then the vanilla. Mix until combined.
- In another bowl, whisk together flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and cinnamon. (Yes, it’s annoying to dirty another bowl. No, you can’t skip it.)
- Gradually add the dry ingredients into the wet, alternating with sour cream. Stir until just combined. Don’t overmix unless you enjoy cakes with the texture of a hockey puck.
- Fold in the chopped apples. At this point, you will feel very smug about your fruit intake. Lean into it.
- Pour the batter into your prepared loaf pan and smooth the top. Bake for 50–60 minutes, or until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean.
- Let it cool for about 15 minutes in the pan before transferring to a wire rack. If you try to glaze it while it’s still molten, you’ll have a cinnamon-sugar puddle instead of a glaze. Not that I’m speaking from experience (I totally am).
- For the glaze: whisk together powdered sugar, cinnamon, milk, and vanilla until smooth. Drizzle generously over the cooled loaf.
- Slice. Serve. Pretend you’ll only eat one piece. Immediately eat three pieces.
Notes
Serving Suggestions (a.k.a. How I Eat This Without Shame)
Warm a slice in the microwave for 10 seconds and top with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Trust me. Pair with a cup of coffee and call it breakfast. Look, it has apples, so it counts. Bring it to a fall gathering and watch people think you’ve got your life together. (Spoiler: you don’t. None of us do.)
Warm a slice in the microwave for 10 seconds and top with a scoop of vanilla ice cream. Trust me. Pair with a cup of coffee and call it breakfast. Look, it has apples, so it counts. Bring it to a fall gathering and watch people think you’ve got your life together. (Spoiler: you don’t. None of us do.)
