Cakes and Cakes and Cakes

On looking back, that last post seems very ambitious. Did I do all of those fun sounding things? Well, not yet. The bike is still blocking the side door, the African dance remains a myth. I did go to yoga, though, once, and I made three cakes. Although the photo above was the only survivor of the process (Matt deemed the others 'unacceptable,' and I have to trust his word), there were in fact three cakes, and all three were Heavenly cakes, it seems only right to have a little discussion of them, photo or no.

Two weeks ago, I made the Apple Upside Down Cake, one of the first recipes in the book but one that I hadn't gotten around to yet. Caramelized apples under a yolky, buttery cake layer, sprinkled with nuts...that one was good. I tried to give it away as a housewarming present for my cousin, who just moved back to town, but only half of it made it over (next time, Sophie). Luckily, my Aunt Nicki was down the following weekend, and as a fellow devotee of Dorie Greenspan, she instigated the making of a Swedish Visiting Cake, so all was well.

Last week, I made the much-awaited Ginger Cheesecake, a fairly classic cheesecake made with a ginger crust (in my case, crushed oatmeal cookies), and juice squeezed from grated ginger. I didn't have quite enough ginger to get the amount of juice recommended, but it was still clearly present in the final product. My crust was oily, probably because my cookies were less austere than your average gingersnap, but the cake itself was excellent, and was devoured whole by hungry librarians at a training I helped conduct on Saturday. 

This week's cake, pictured above, was a riff on the Chocolate Covered Strawberry Cake, which I last made for Liana's birthday the year before last. I didn't have white chocolate, which is called for in the cake, so I made Rose's White Velvet cake layers instead, and filled it with a pear buttercream and pear butter, then covered it with the Sticky Chocolate Frosting. The result, although it looked like Boston Cream Pie, tasted more like sheet cake. The pear frosting didn't really make itself heard, and without it the cake was, as Liana and Matt both admitted, somewhat boring.  My co-workers disagreed, and finished it happily, proclaiming Liana and Matt spoiled, to which they both readily and happily admitted. I thought it might improve with chocolate ice cream, but then just went for the ice cream and ignored the cake.

It's been a chaotic few weeks, at least under the surface of placid librarianship.There's a new year coming, and I'm not ready, but maybe I'll get there. Right now, I'm trying to remember what's best in life, and to hold on to it with a fierce grip.

Somewhat on that last note, I've had one more Rose Levy Beranbaum-related milestone. I finally got too annoyed at the broken binding and sticky pages of Rose's Heavenly Cakes, and bought myself a brand new copy. Time to make that one sticky too.

Heavenly Cake Bakers: Swedish Pear Almond Cream Bundt

Photo by Matt.

Long story short, delicious sour cream bundt cake filled with pears, frangipane (almond cream), and vanilla. Slightly sweeter than your average yogurt cake, but very elegant.

Lucky for you all, Leonard Lopate has kindly secured the recipe for the internets. I slammed this little beauty together in the calm before Saturday's wedding storm, with some farmers market bosc pears and some almond paste that had just happened to be hanging out in the refrigerator for a very long time (luckily still soft).

Tuesdays with Dorie: Fold-Over Pear Torte

This may not be widely known on the internet, but anyone who knew me in high school will confirm that I am a recovering anglophile. My addiction was less to footballers and crusty punk and the Royal family than to the comedians, the cottages, and above all the literature. I remain a Shakespeare addict, a serious Caryl Churchill fan, and a Jane Austen evangelist, but I no longer dream about a 19th century estate or little rose covered cottage of my own (ok, I do, but it doesn't have to be in England, karma...anywhere would do...).

The British addiction, which coincided with and was partly fueled by a furious crush (pash?) on Emma Thompson, was enhanced by much early reading of Britsh children's books, from the better known novels of C.S. Lewis, Noel Streatfield, and Frances Hodgeson Burnett to the slightly more obscure works of folks like Rumer Godden. These were complimented by many books from the era when American children's books were rather like some of their British counterparts, especially the mildly Transcendentalist 'moral pap for the young' written by the great and underestimated Louisa May Alcott, and the works of Lucy Maud Montgomery (a slightly different but no less urgent nod to Laura Ingalls Wilder, of course). I loved the dresses, the farmhouses, the emotional honesty, the earnest love affairs, and the food. Blancmange, hotcakes, raspberry cordial, and yorkshire pudding, custard and cold chicken and jelly. One item that always made an appearance was mince pies, a Christmas must-have (not being Christian, I never really knew that they still are).

This week's Tuesdays with Dorie selection, a crusty roly-poly filled with custard, chopped pears, almond extract, raisins and nuts, took me right back into that world of stodgy puddings and flaming mince. In this, it's a very uncharacteristic Dorie dessert. Usually, she leans toward the modern all-American or the classic French, but this Fold-Over Pear Torte is, at least in my version, right in the center of the British/American post-colonial camp.

Due to a momentary measuring brain-blip (unsurprising given my exhausted mental state for the weekend), I made half the filling in a full crust. It was presumably less wet and fruity than it was meant to be, but that spicy, almost Christmas-y taste was great, and the abundance of crust made it much easier to transport to rehearsal, where it was entirely consumed, although not with as great avidity as next week's Caramel Pumpkin Pie.

"Shut the lower draught of the stove, so that the oven may heat. Then wash your hands and get out the flour, sugar, salt, butter, and cinnamon. See if the pie-board is clean, and pare your apple ready to put in."


"I really don't know how to measure for such tiny pies; I must guess at it, and if these don't succeed, we must try again," said Mrs. Jo, looking rather perplexed, and very much amused with the small concern before her. "Take that little pan full of flour, put in a pinch of salt, and then rub in as much butter as will go on that plate. Always remember to put your dry things together first, and then the wet. It mixes better so."


"I know how; I saw Asia do it. Don't I butter the pie plates too? She did, the first thing," said Daisy, whisking the flour about at a great rate.


"Quite right! I do believe you have a gift for cooking, you take to it so cleverly," said Aunt Jo, approvingly. "Now a dash of cold water, just enough to wet it; then scatter some flour on the board, work in a little, and roll the paste out; yes, that's the way. Now put dabs of butter all over it, and roll it out again. We won't have our pastry very rich, or the dolls will get dyspeptic."      ~Louisa May Alcott, Little Men

Blogger Incest (& Jam)

A strange realization hit me when I began to plan the week's posts. Nearly every recipe I've made this week (and most weeks) was cribbed from someone else's blog. Not only that, but several of those were cribbed from other blogs.

Looking at it one way, it's a wonderful sharing of ideas that allows a cook to see how several different cooks approach a single recipe. Having gotten a sense of the tastes and biases of each blogger, the amalgamation helps me see the direction I'd like to take the recipe in for my kitchen.

Looking at it another way, bloggers are an awfully incestuous bunch who can't think for ourselves. Also, any mangled keystroke made while typing the word 'blogger' tends to turn it into something that looks like 'booger.'

Ultimately, I suppose using recipes from other bloggers isn't much different from using recipes from cookbooks, in terms of creativity. Either way, I'm not writing them. But it is funny to watch the ripples of certain trends dribble through the blog world.

This week, many of the recipes I was drawn to involved some facet of jam...I love making jam, sauce, and jelly, but don't have a good pot to can in or a real canning confidence, so once I make a jam, I also spend a lot of time thinking about how to use it up. This recipe for a Jam Crostata from The New York Times via The Wednesday Chef via David Lebovitz has proven an excellent solution to this delightful problem. It's flexible, simple, and delicious, and now I've used up almost the whole jar of my homemade quince jam. Looking back, I see that David posted this recipe in July, when I must have seen it and filed it without knowing, because it came back to me out of some mental crevice the other day, and I wound up with this...

Not a bad day's work. For my next tart, if I don't just eat it all with a spoon, I made easy and unctuous (and I never say unctuous, but that's what it is) pear butter with nutmeg and cardamom. No picture here yet, but check out the link, The Traveler's Lunchbox has great photos. Pear butter is amazing. Make pear butter. Now. Simmer it slowly and gloat over its strange candied lusciousness.