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Archive for August, 2008

I baked you a cake.

french cake out of oven

Say we were going to a dinner party in Europe, at a large outdoor table with a linen tablecloth, topped with olive oils and fresh bread and cheeses, just next to a vineyard, and it were the kind of thing where guests brought something—is every party in Europe the kind of thing where guests bring something?—this is the cake I’d make.

It’s an extremely simple recipe, made of ordinary pantry items like flour, sugar, eggs, yogurt. That’s, after all, why I tried it. And it’s from an article I read about French cooking, or rather, the French women who are famous for their cooking.

Essentially, the point of the story is this: everybody, even the most impressive cooks, takes shortcuts. They pick up a cake from the bakery or they use a premade pie crust. That’s OK; in fact, maybe that’s best. There are times when one should, say, labor four hours on a homemade dessert (though, admittedly, none are coming to my mind at this point in time), and there are times when she should pull together easy ingredients and make something basic and delicious.

cake on plate

Before making this cake the other night, I had been through a series of bad recipes, most notably the brownies that I had to cook 45 minutes longer than the directions stated and which still didn’t taste all that great. After making this cake, I tried another let-down, the flatbread, which, in my opinion, was just fine and didn’t have a whole lot of flavor.

But this cake, it’s good. It’s offers a subtle sweetness, not at all overpowering. The citrus adds to the fresh taste, and the yogurt makes the center very moist. Plus, the marmalade glaze sweetens everything perfectly. I like it best with my morning coffee.



Yogurt Cake with Marmalade Glaze
Bon Appetit, February 2005

Ingredients:
1.5 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup plain whole-milk yogurt
1 cup sugar
3 large eggs
1 teaspoon packed finely grated citrus peel (recipe originally calls for lemon; I used orange)
1/4 teaspoon vanilla extract
1/2 cup vegetable oil

For the glaze:
1/4 teaspoon marmalade (I used apricot, but mostly any fruit would do)
1 teaspoon water

Directions:
Position rack in center of oven and preheat to 350 degrees (325 if using a glass loaf pan). Generously butter a 8.5 X 4.5 X 2.5 metal loaf pan. Sift flour, baking powder and salt in a medium bowl. Combine yogurt, sugar, eggs, shredded fruit peel and vanilla in large bowl; whisk until well-blended. Gradually whisk in dry ingredients. Using rubber spatula, fold in oil. Transfer batter to prepared pan. Place pan on baking sheet.

Place cake on baking sheet in oven and bake until cake begins to pull away from sides of pan and tester inserted in center comes out clean, about 50-60 minutes. Cool cake in pan on rack for about 5 minutes. Cut around pan sides to loosen cake. Turn cake out onto rack. Turn cake upright onto rack and cool completely. (Can be made one day ahead. Wrap and store at room temperature.)

Stir marmalade and 1 teaspoon water in small saucepan over medium heat until marmalade melts. Brush hot mixture over top of cake. Let glaze cool and set. Cut cake crosswise into slices.

Harvesting

fresh tomatoes

As my second summer of homegrown tomatoes draws to an end, I feel confident of one thing: my favorite part of gardening, without question, is this: harvest.

tomato garden

There’s something very wonderful about bringing in baskets of fresh, juicy, totally ripe, red tomatoes, something that makes you feel successful, useful, productive. True, I had very little to do with these giant plants. Other than some watering, some watching, a little weeding, a little worrying, I didn’t do anything to make them grow. The sunshine, the rain—oh, the glorious rain this summer!, the good soil, the lack of animals… all these elements worked together to do something so commonplace, so ordinary that it’s been being done since God created plants.

But, really, trust me, it doesn’t matter how textbook you try to make this gardening thing. When you, with little knowledge and skill, plant some small greens in your yard, hoping and wondering what can happen, dreaming of caprese salads and homemade sauces and delicious pastas, and you water your greens, with nothing happening for weeks, but then one day, you see the budding of a fruit—come back to me and say you weren’t astounded, weren’t amazed, weren’t positively joyful to see that something so wonderful can come from something so small.

Tell me, as the proud harvester of baskets and baskets of fruit, that you aren’t reduced to sheer awe at the way God created the world.

I believe there’s something in us that delights to see the miracle of life, of creation. There’s something that knows, face to face with spindly vines, that we’re a small part of something beautiful.

A little picnic, four cakes, a birthday

picnic at ravinia

To the [my surprise] picnickers: Adam, I don’t know if thanking you for the concert should be first or for watching me knead flatbread on the counter while the clocked ticked away, and you knew we’d be late, should be. The picnic was perfect, even if carrying its elements one-and-a-half-miles, from the Botanical Gardens parking lot to Ravinia, almost killed the four of us. (Oh, and FYI: my shiny, silver KitchenAid mixer is the best gift ever, and you are my favorite.) Jackie, you are Brilliant Accomplice Extraordinaire, and, I can’t believe you didn’t complain—not once—while we made you trek all that way, your knee swelling and your back killing you. I just think you should know, for the record, I could have the worst day of my life and be at the bottom of the bottom, and hearing you laugh would make everything better. And Becky, when I told you, Wish we could have heard Tony Bennett!, as we walked out the door after work on Friday, clocking out and heading to our cars, you didn’t let on in the slightest. Even later, when I yelled across the parking lot, Next time you see me, I’ll be 26! You were unmoved. Oh, you’re good, and I’m forever suspicious of you.

turkey sandwich

To everyone else: Carrie gets top billing for the most generous friend of all time, giving me the most thoughtful gifts in a gorgeous purple basket/box, on top of a cookie pie and an ice cream cake. On that note, Becky, the engraved case really did make me cry, and a Wildfire lunch! You are the best. I have been given the greatest privilege, to work with people I like. Kim, my faraway friend, I know you won’t read this in Iraq, or wherever you are now, but I was honored and surprised to hear from you. Thanks also to all the Facebook commenters and e-mail well-wishers. Lots of little notes make for a wonderful day. Last but not least, thanks, Mom and Dad, not just for the delicious dinner and gifts, but for a lifetime of such things; I love you.

The cakes, there were four in total—the Baskin Robbins ice cream cake, the chocolate cake #1 at work, the chocolate cake #2 at work, the chocolate cake my mom made, plus a box of Swirlz cupcakes—are not gone, so the celebrations will continue.

Happy birthday, indeed.