A Viking-Inspired Apple Cake and the Goddess with the Life-Giving Apples

Goddess with the life-giving apples. Source of youth and rejuvenation. Kidnapped by the gods and giants. Valued for what she could offer, as much as for who she was?

When I first began diving into Norse mythology, Idunn intrigued me, but admittedly, she took a backseat to the fiercer, more rebellious figures. The boisterous and often bawdy male gods commanded all the attention with their mischief and revelry. And among the goddesses, Freya and Skadi stood out—both bold and uncompromising in their own ways. Freya, the goddess of love, rode a chariot pulled by cats (enough said), and Skadi, the jötunn-turned-honorary goddess, fascinated me with her quest for vengeance (her story even includes a “divine divorce,” adding to what I found compelling about her, given my own ended marriage).

But Idunn? It seemed like she was just there to help others, who valued her for her apples that granted eternal youth. She seemed to lack agency and action, and although she was essential to the gods, she went down in myth as a secondary figure, her role diminished in comparison to the louder, more assertive voices of the pantheon.

I didn’t want to think of her this way. In fact, I’d rather hear about the goddesses’ exploits and adventures than those of their male counterparts. But as with so many mythologies, the men take center stage. Still, over time, as I explored the stories of Skadi and Freya, I came to appreciate Idunn more deeply. She wasn’t just a passive keeper of the apples—her role was vital, quietly underscoring the existence of the gods themselves.

An unfortunate legacy

The story that perhaps stands out most about Idunn is, unfortunately, her kidnapping. It bothers me that her most well-known tale centers on something done to her, not by her. For those of us who have experienced trauma, we understand all too well the feeling of not wanting to be defined by what happened to us. We want to overcome, to transcend—to shift from victim to survivor, and eventually, to warrior. As a survivor myself, it irks me that Idunn often seems like a damsel in distress in this particular quest of the gods.

The story goes like this: the giant Thiazzi, with Loki’s help, kidnaps Idunn and takes her to Jotunheim, the land of the giants. In her absence, the gods in Asgard begin to age. Without Idunn’s apples, their youth and vitality fade, and they realize how much they depend on her.

Finally, they force Loki to rescue her. He shapeshifts into a falcon, flies to Jotunheim, and transforms Idunn into something small (some sources say a nut) to carry her back to Asgard in his talons. 

It’s at this point that the story of Skadi (my favorite of the women) has its inciting incident and intersects with Idunn’s. Thiazzi, the giant who kidnapped Idunn, is her father. He turns into an eagle to pursue them as Loki flees. But in his chase, Thiazzi is burned up in a trap laid by the gods. Skadi charges out of Jotunheimen and storms into Asgard in search of vengeance. In her quest, she ends up with a husband—interestingly, based on the appearance of his feet. The entire story makes me scratch my head on many accounts (it’s worth a discussion on another day), but her fiery, bold determination that wins her respect among the gods reflects the kind of boldness that Idunn’s story seems to lack.

What was lost in time?

The records we have of Norse myths come largely from the Prose Edda and Poetic Edda, which were compiled in the 13th century from earlier sources. Snorri Sturluson, a scholar and politician, played a key role in preserving these stories. Yet, I often wonder how much has been lost over time—fragments of myths that slipped away during the centuries of oral tradition, or that faded with the introduction of Christianity to the region. As with many ancient stories, we’re left with texts that we must interpret through our modern lens, always aware that the original meanings may have shifted in the centuries between their telling and our understanding. What parts of Idunn’s story were lost to time?

Still, no matter what role Idunn played in the past, her story takes on new significance for me today. She wasn’t just a victim; she was a survivor with a quiet power. After all, she possessed the extraordinary power and privilege to grant the gods their youth and vitality—or presumably to withhold it. The gods knew they needed her; they experienced that firsthand when they briefly lost her to Thiazzi. There’s plenty of rich feminist material in that dynamic, though I’ll save that conversation for another day.

Who’s to say how fierce or fiery Idunn might have been? Or perhaps she had a quieter strength, a subtlety that was easily overlooked amid the more dramatic gods and goddesses. And who knows where she got those apples or how she tended to them? She was married to Bragi, the god of poetry, and I like to imagine that gave her an appreciation for art and words and that she found beauty even in the darkest circumstances. As a survivor myself, this thought a thought that brings her to life in a different way, one that resonates with my own love for art and storytelling.

Whether she was bold and outspoken or quietly powerful, I like to think of Idunn as holding a kind of strength that didn’t require her to make a scene. Her power was so essential that, regardless of how loud the other gods were, they all knew they would need her sooner or later. 

What a delicious feeling that must have been.

A sweet taste of power

Now, as the apple season arrives in Norway and here in the United States, it feels like the perfect time to give Idunn her due. She may not have been at the forefront of the myths, but she was always there, providing what the gods needed.

For her—and for others like us—I crafted this Viking-inspired Norwegian apple cake, drawing inspiration from ingredients available to the Norse people of centuries past. Rye provides a rustic, earthy flavor, and the warming spices of cinnamon and cardamom—while common in Scandi baking today—also began to influence Scandinavian cuisine during that time.

I’ve made variations of Norwegian apple cakes over the years (click here for a gluten-free version), but this one is for Idunn, as I give her a voice beyond one of victim. I invite you to try this cake, celebrate the arrival of fall, and share it with your loved ones. Reflect on the sweetness of life and the joy that can emerge from our darkest nights.

If you make this recipe, I would love to see your creation! Please share your photos and tag me on Instagram at @daytonadanielsen and Facebook at @daytonadanaielsen. While you’re at it, click here to sign up for my newsletter for more recipes, stories, and insights into Scandinavian culture, folklore, and food.