Step-by-Step Instructions
Make the Dough
In a large bowl, combine flour, salt, oil, and lukewarm water. Knead until smooth, then cover with a towel and let it rest for at least 30 minutes. This resting time makes the dough easier to stretch.Prepare the Apples
Peel, core, and thinly slice the apples. Toss them with lemon juice, sugar, cinnamon, nutmeg, raisins, and walnuts. Let the mixture sit for a few minutes so the flavors meld.Stretch the Dough
On a floured tablecloth, roll the dough into a thin rectangle. Then carefully stretch it by hand until it’s nearly transparent—you should be able to see the pattern of the cloth through it. Grandma always said, “The thinner, the better.”Assemble the Strudel
Brush the dough lightly with melted butter. Sprinkle breadcrumbs evenly over it to soak up apple juices during baking. Spread the apple mixture in a line along one edge of the dough.Roll It Up
Using the tablecloth to guide you, roll the dough gently over the filling, forming a log. Seal the edges and place it seam-side down on a greased baking sheet.Bake to Golden Perfection
Brush the strudel with melted butter and bake at 375°F (190°C) for 35–40 minutes, until golden and crisp.Serve with Love
Dust generously with powdered sugar, slice, and serve warm. A scoop of vanilla ice cream or a spoonful of whipped cream makes it even more indulgent.
Tips from Grandma’s Kitchen
Keep the dough covered while resting so it doesn’t dry out.
Stretch patiently—don’t rush the dough, or it might tear.
Toast the breadcrumbs in butter first; it adds a nutty depth and prevents sogginess.
The strudel tastes best the day it’s made, but leftovers (if there are any!) can be gently reheated.
Final Thoughts
My Grandma’s Apple Strudel recipe is more than a dessert—it’s a piece of family history. Every step, from kneading the dough to rolling it on the tablecloth, carries echoes of her hands guiding mine. When I bake it now, I’m not just making a pastry; I’m preserving her tradition, sharing her love, and bringing a little bit of her warmth into my own kitchen.
And that’s the beauty of recipes like this one—they remind us that food is never just food. It’s memory, heritage, and a story worth telling.
