A cake for Spring (and Breakfast)

Dear Boo,

I'm not much of a baker anymore, a fact that the Husband often laments. I first came to cooking through baking, as I think many people do, and I used to enjoy the methodical, detailed instructions and found it comforting to know that one must really follow the exact steps to come up with a successful product. No scary riffing or improvisation expected. And I've always been a very good rule follower. But over the years as I've gained some confidence in the kitchen, I've come to enjoy the freedom of trusting my taste and tweaking recipes as I go and to be increasingly frustrated by the precision, patience, and multiple dirty dishes required of baking. Coinciding with this was the mysterious disappearance of my sweet tooth, which miraculously and somewhat controversially reappeared recently without so much as a Hey, how ya been. 

Which is how I found myself making this cake. It seemed a perfect compromise for me: practically a one-bowl wonder, nicely unfussy but pretty in presentation, not too sweet as balanced by the sour lemon, and not too healthy (despite the yogurt) as balanced by the copious amounts of cream dolloped and cascading down the slice. And a very welcome taste of a very welcome new season. (There are bursting buds on the tree outside my window! They make the discarded plastic bags hanging off the branches look so whimsical!)

We ate it as dessert with Easter dinner, but it is equally appropriate with a cup of afternoon tea, or for that matter with morning coffee. I realized the next day when I brought the leftovers to work, that it suspiciously resembles the top of a muffin. And I'm just fine with that. 

Love,

The Mouse


Lemon-Blueberry Yogurt Cake with Lemon Cream 

Adapted by The Kitchn from Gourmet, Serves 8 

For the cake: 
1 cup all-purpose flour 
1/2 teaspoon baking powder 
1/2 teaspoon baking soda 
1/4 teaspoon salt 
2/3 cup granulated sugar 
Zest of one lemon (about 1 1/2 teaspoons) 
1/2 stick (4 tablespoons) unsalted butter, softened 
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract 
1 large egg 1/4 cup plain Greek yogurt (whole or 2%) 
1/4 cup milk 
1 cup fresh or frozen blueberries (no need to thaw) 
1 1/2 tablespoons turbinado sugar 

For the lemon cream: 

1/4 cup heavy whipping cream 
2 tablespoons store-bought lemon curd 

Preheat oven to 400°F with rack in the middle. Butter a 9-inch round cake pan and line the bottom with parchment paper. Flour the sides. 

Whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda and salt in a medium bowl and set aside. Place the granulated sugar and lemon zest in the bowl of a stand mixer or in a large mixing bowl. Using your fingers, rub the zest into the sugar until it is the texture of damp sand and smells like lemon candy. Add the butter and beat in a stand mixer or with an electric mixer on medium-high speed until pale and fluffy, about 3 minutes. Beat in the vanilla and the egg. Add the yogurt and beat well. 

At low speed, beat in half the flour mixture until just combined. Then beat in the milk and remaining flour mixture. 

Spread batter evenly in the pan. Scatter berries over top and sprinkle evenly with turbinado sugar. Bake until cake is golden-brown and a tester inserted in the center comes out clean, about 25-30 minutes. Let cool for 10 minutes in the pan, then turn out onto a rack and cool for 10-15 more minutes. Remove parchment and invert onto a plate. 

Meanwhile, using an electric mixer or immersion blender with a whisk attachment, beat cream and lemon curd on high speed until creamy, smooth and thick. It should be about the consistency of regular yogurt. Keep refrigerated until ready to serve. Serve cake warm or at room temperature, dolloped with lemon cream.

Long Overdue

Dear Boo,

I cannot believe how many times on this blog we have mentioned the unbelievably good pumpkin bread which is a staple of fall in our family, without giving the recipe. It's positively criminal.

I can't remember a time before this autumnal treat graced our Thanksgiving table, and how many countless years did we set off to school with loaf upon loaf wrapped in colorful cellophane and tied with a bow to be bestowed upon our teachers before the holidays? It's truly the perfect baked gift--it travels well, freezes well, and doubles or triples well. I brought six loaves of these, carrying them on the plane, through a day of sightseeing in DC, and in the car, to the very first Thanksgiving I spent with the Husband's (then, Boyfriend) family, winning me instant cred and a repeat invitation (now they're stuck with me, loaves or no. mmwwahahaha!)

This recipe comes from our beloved Aunt, an incredible baker and cook, of Arlene's Bakery soon-to-be-fame. And we're in luck! Since re-creating anything you grew up eating and loving, never quite works out as perfectly as you remember it, we can get the actual real deal from the source at our cousin's super exciting and unbelievably tasty new spot for a perfect sandwich or cookie, The Commons in Chelsea! More to come on this, for sure. I can't wait to plant myself at their adorable counter and eat my way through the menu. If you happened to stop by their Organicoa concession stand at the Hudson River Park this year, you've gotten a delicious taste of what we're in for at The Commons.

Also available at The Commons (though pictured here at home), are Arlene's Bakery's massive and perfect chocolate chip cookies. Get thee to The Commons.
You know what I'm talking about.

As our auntie pointed out recently, the beauty of this recipe is its simplicity. It's got few ingredients, and sure, it's sweet, but not overly so; rather, the pumpkin flavor itself is front and center, with just a hint of warmth and spice from the cinnamon. I would have to agree its virtually perfect on its own, with one exception. I happen to love the combination of pumpkin and chocolate, and in past years I have taken to adding a handful of chocolate chips to one of the loaves for a more decadent version which is often the first to be polished off. I also like adding some cranberries to one of the loaves for a tart little kick. I remember mom used to do this with cranberries and walnuts, but I'm not a huge nut fan so I just do the berries.

Here's how I see it:

cranberry loaf = to be eaten for breakfast
plain loaf = to be eaten with dinner
chocolate loaf= to be eaten for dessert

In my book, this bests over-rated pumpkin pie any day of the week. (I'm willing to go head-to-head on this in the comments. Bring it.)

Stay tuned for more news from The Commons in the coming weeks! Wanna go with me for lunch on opening day?

Love,
The Mouse

Pumpkin Bread
Courtesy Arlene's Bakery for The Commons

Makes 3 loaves

3-1/2 cups flour
2 tsp baking soda
1-1/2 tsp salt
1 tsp cinnamon
3 cups sugar
1 cup oil (corn or vegetable)
2 cups pumpkin puree
2/3 cup water
4 eggs
Optional: chocolate chips, frozen cranberries

Preheat the oven to 350° Combine first 5 (dry) ingredients in a large bowl. Add last 4 (wet) ingredients and mix until smooth. Divide into 3 well greased & floured loaf pans (disposable aluminum foil ones work great, as do the paper loaf liners you can find at specialty baking stores). Mix in chocolate chips or cranberries to your liking. Bake for 55-60 minutes, or until a toothpick comes out clean.

*And if you've got leftover pumpkin puree after making this, here are some great ideas for how to use it (other than making some more loaves and bringing them to me.)

Food Block (Help me, Julia Cameron)

Dear Mouse,

I have of late, but wherefore I know not, lost all my mojo.

Cookingwise, that is.

Wild stinging nettles picked by my friend KG for a delicious pasta. She recommends gloves.

(All pix in this post will, of necessity, be of other people's food.)

I dont know how it happened but it's no longer possible to ignore. It started, I think, this past spring with the Great Coffee Collapse of 2011 , where I realized that I had completely lost the ability to make a decent cup of joe. I tried everything. Different makers (drip and french), different brands, even the $16 Illy Coffee our cousin J swears you can't ruin. I consulted experts and applied all techniques faithfully. I poured the hot water in a circular motion. I waited for the "bloom". I timed everything to the minute. I measured. Blech. Dark, bitter, weirdly consistent sludge. In the end, I threw out my press in despair and have been shamefacedly stockpiling Via Instant Coffee packets from Starbucks. At the moment I see no end in sight.

Flooding in NJ, post-Irene. ie, An actual disaster, just so we can all keep perspective here.

That was just the beginning. The downward spiral has involved ordering in, storebought sandwiches, pre-grilled chicken breasts, 'heat and serve' london broil in a packet (yech-who am I??), and indian masala "simmer sauce" in a jar. A simple beans-and-rice dish? Ruined by failing to, oh, COOK the beans after soaking and before "simmer sauce". (Crunchy lentils anyone? I have two containers full.) A beautiful blueberry/spinach salad? Ruined as I artfully dumped in kalamata olives' marinade before remembering about the blueberries. Even my tried and true, go-to stuff is failing me. Muffins? Come on! My bread and butter (and sugar and chocolate chips)? The foolproof, perfect recipe of summers past? Black bottoms. Failure to fluff. Whole batches left out overnight to become gummy and stale.

Pizza made (for me!) by a guy who makes pizza, dough and all. Mushrooms and red onion.

Cracked egg and truffle oil to finish. Yes.

It's gotten to the point where even the idea of chocolate chip cookies fills me with fear. I'm eating buttered saltines, brown rice cakes with peanut butter, carrots with hummus, raw kale, fake parmesan straight from the can (the can!), anything I dont have to prepare or think about. It's not good.

Still Life with His and Her whiskey bottles: possibly part of the problem.

Whatever. It was a gift. Also, I admit nothing.

The worst part, though, is the total lack of ideas. I think to myself, come on, Boo, now's the time. You're between gigs. Let's make ...

...

I have Food Block.

Time to bring in Julia Cameron.

You might recall this exercise from the Creativity tome The Artists' Way. I use it all the time for, you know, Art, and I see no reason why it can't get me (literally) cookin' again. I give you:

Blasting Through (Food)Blocks

The Boo, via Julia Cameron (author, The Artists' Way)

1. Write down any and all FEARS you have associated with the project.

OK. I'm afraid I never really was good at cooking anyway, just eating. I'm afraid that my new gentleman friend is a better cook than me. Ok, he is, and I'm afraid when he finds out he will leave me for a saucier. (A saucier what? Haha, ok focus.) I've been losing my balance a lot as well as my ability to balance flavors, and what if it's an inner ear thing. I haven't worked since early July and I'm afraid that I'll never get another acting job.

Ohhhh.

2. Write down any and all ANGER, or resentment, you have associated with the project.

I'm angry that I totally wasted a stick of butter on that batch of muffins. I resent that bag of beans for not having more explicit instructions on it. I'm mad at that agency for rejecting me after I totally thought they would sign.

Ohhh.

3. Is that it? Write down anything you haven't said.

I think that's it.

Oh, also there was that giant roach. I'm afraid of attracting another one to the kitchen.

Let's not even get into the THREE FOOT RATS in Brooklyn.

4. Make your deal. 'OK, Creative Force, I'll take care of the QUANTITY of this endeavor. You take care of its QUALITY." Date and sign it.

So I'm getting back in with my most go-to recipe of all which I can't believe I haven't posted yet ever. Make this before summer is completely gone. (I often halve the recipe).

Love,

The Boo

Chase's Tian of Just Picked Vegetables

3 medium zucchini, sliced ¼-inch thick
3 medium summer squash, sliced
¼-inch thick
1 large eggplant, sliced ¼-inch thick
5 ripe medium tomatoes, sliced
¼-inch thick
Salt
¾ cup olive oil
2 large yellow onions, chopped
4 cloves garlic, minced

Topping: 1 bunch fresh parsley, minced, chopped zest of 1 lemon, 1 C grated Parmesan
Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Place the zucchini and summer squash in a bowl, sprinkle lightly with salt, and toss to combine. Let stand 1 hour. Repeat the process with the eggplant and tomatoes in separate bowls. Meanwhile, heat ¼ cup of the oil in a large skillet over medium-high heat. Add the onions and sauté, stirring frequently, for 5 minutes.

Stir in the garlic, reduce heat to medium, and cook, stirring occasionally, 10 minutes longer. Remove the onion mixture from the heat. Stir in the breadcrumbs. Season to taste with salt and pepper. Sprinkle half the mixture over the bottom of a 12-inch round or oval grain dish. Drain the zucchini and summer squash and pat dry with paper towels. Repeat with the eggplant and tomatoes. Alternately layer the vegetables over the bread mixture in the dish. Sprinkle each layer with salt and pepper and drizzle with the remaining oil. Top with the remaining bread mixture. Cover the dish tightly with aluminum foil and bake for 30 minutes. Combine the parsley, lemon zest and Parmesan cheese. Remove the foil from the dish and sprinkle the parsley mixture evenly over the top. Bake uncovered until the top is nicely browned and the vegetables are tender, 20-25 minutes.

Let stand several minutes, and then serve. Serves 8-10.