Now, this is what I call a wedding cake...

Via CakeWrecks

Tuesday on Cake Thursday: July 18th

Wanting to bake something a little unusual for this past Cake Thursday, I was certain it was time to try the long-bookmarked recipe for Whole Orange Poppy Seed Cake in The Sweet Melissa Baking Book. But, as many of my CT cakes thus far have been fairly unadorned, I also really wanted to present a woosh-your-finger-across-the-side-and-steal-a-taste frosted cake.

Mulling over bitter and orange and creamy and not too sweet and tang, I initially thought of cream cheese frosting. But, "unusual" kept flashing in my brain and, as wonderful as it is, unusual and cream cheese don't go together in my world.

Which is how I ended up with mascarpone.

I'd never used mascarpone before, be it in a savory or a sweet, so it fit my goal. I'd had it in Tiramisu and I'm sure in a few other dishes, but it was something I'd never thought to use in my cooking or baking before. Why it came into my mind that day, I can't say. How often I'll use it now? As often as I can.

Bitter/Sweet Whole Orange Poppy Seed Cake with Mascarpone Frosting

The cake:
From The Sweet Melissa Baking Book

The recipe I used was from the book. Interestingly enough, Melissa demonstrates the cake on via video podcast but gives a slightly different recipe at the end. From other comments I have read on this cake, I'd go with the podcast recipe.

Joy the Baker also presents very clear instructions with a slightly altered recipe.

The frosting:
From a lot of recipe reading and playing around

Whip 1 lb. softened Mascarpone cheese with 1/2 cup cold heavy cream for 30 seconds. Sift in a few tbsp. of powdered sugar and continue to whip another minute or so until it's luscious and creamy and spreadable. Taste often throughout and adjust the sugar to your liking.



The slight tang of the frosting (reminding me of one of life's great tastes: clotted cream) was so wonderful and complimented the cake very well if I do say so myself. Speaking of, I love bitter so the cake worked for me—and a few others—but it's definitely not for everyone.

The flavor components came through orange tang then sweet then a bitter bite, and the poppy seeds were a nice compliment to the texture and look.




But the frosting...oh my. I could (and did) eat it up with a spoon. I've already thought of many other cakes it would work beautifully with. I imagine it will soon join the bundt cake and Dorrie Greenspan on the list of my tried-and-true standbys. You've been warned.

Lemon Pound Cake with Lavender Syrup

A few weeks ago, we ducked into a restaurant to hide from a sudden downpour. It was one of those NYC summer days where it feels like the heat and the rain are competing for space, leaving little air left to breathe.

I ordered a Lavender Lemon Fizz off the menu, hoping the fizz would bring back a little life to my lungs. Which it did. But it was the combination of the three ingredients* that had me entranced.

Though not a new one to me in food, I had never before drank lavender. After that day, I was addicted.

They used Monin syrup, but, being a try-it-DIY-first kind of lady, I bought up some lavender flowers and made my own simple syrup, which I then used to make those fizzy drinks.
With plenty of the purple syrup stored in the fridge, I thought how lovely it tastes over lemon pound cake.

And so I made one. I've always wondered if a pound cake** would work well if baked in layer cake pans versus the standard bundt or loaf pans traditionally called for. This seemed like a good-as-any time to try it out.

I decided on baking a standard recipe for a lemon-scented version in my 5" tester pan, as well as an 8" round pan. Lo and behold, it worked beautifully. I did start checking for doneness much earlier than the recipe indicated and, after about 40 minutes, pulled the golden, fragrant cakes from the oven. Once out of the pans, I soaked the still-warm cakes in the lavender syrup.

Lavender Simple Syrup
1/2 cup sugar
1 cup water
1 tbsp. dried lavender flowers

Combine all three ingredients in a small sauce pan and slowly bring to a boil. Lower the heat and simmer 5 minutes, stirring occasionally. Strain the syrup into a small bowl set in an ice bath and let cool completely, then bottle and—very important—store in the fridge. It should keep indefinitely.

And in case you're interested:

*South of France in a Glass
Put a few cubes of ice into a tall glass then add the juice of one lemon, about 2 tbsp. of the lavender syrup (or to your taste), and fill the glass with sparking water.

Take a sip and I swear, you'll think you're in the South of France...if only for one, blissful moment. It's also brilliant with vodka or with lime and gin.

**The pound cake originated in England in the early 18th century, and was named as such because it contained one pound each butter, sugar, eggs, and flour—an easy recipe to remember for those who could not read or lacked measurement tools.

The Strawberry Whipped Cream Cake of My Dreams

over at chow.com

A Quick Pictorial Tour of a Few San Francisco Cakes Featuring Very Little Commentary

I spent July 4th weekend there and, though I did not have time to hit every cake shop on my list, there was no dearth of cake goodness in my days...

The first being a lovely chocolate holiday cake made by friends who threw a July 4th BBQ in Berkeley for the massive group that had descended upon the West Coast:



In Chinatown, I spotted this place:



And this cake:



Which was a simple vanilla sponge sandwiching thick cream and topped with slick, ripe slices of fresh mango. For that reason, I did not feel at all bad to be eating it for breakfast.

On the 5th, we took up two tables and the famous Chez Panisse (the café in honor of the vegetarians among us). The dessert of choice: a cake, of course. In this case, a Shortcake with Fresh Berries and Rose Cream:



Tartine was a must-see and it was love and first sight:





And rapture at first bite:



I bought thick slices of Coconut Passion Fruit Bavarian Cake and Lemon Meringue Cake as well as a small Banana Cream Tart:



And yes, I shared.

Miette Pâtisserie was the first stop once we arrived—but they were closed. So rather fittingly, they were the last place I was able to squeeze in before heading to the airport.

Though it's difficult to tell in the photographs, all of their displayed baked goods are little things. 6" cakes






and tiny breads and tarts:





Though each cake was fantastically tempting, I ended up being swayed by packaging and buying Vanilla Panna Cotta which was served in small glass jars and topped with diced strawberries:





I have a feeling this will be part one, as I plan on going back very soon. It is a terrific cake city.

A Beautifully Simple Cake

at SweetFineDay

Experimenting with Scratch Icebox Cake

Icebox Cake. The luscious combination of time-tendered cookie and cool whipped cream is, for me at least, one of the most comforting of comfort foods. Yet I had never made one—mostly due to the fact that I couldn't find a box of the traditional wafers when I thought to look for them in the market.

So, last week, when I found myself in need of a small, comforting sweet, I thought of beloved Icebox Cake. With no wafers in site (or at least a 5 block radius) and desire beginning to overwhelm, I decided the time had come to just make the damn things myself.

I turned to Heidi Swanson of 101Cookbooks and her recipe for the chocolate cookies used in her Homemade Thin Mints.



After a 5" cake pan was readied with a parchment sling, I did the usual layering of cookie and very lightly sweetened (per my taste) whipped cream, and popped it into the fridge to work its magic overnight. Having made the entire recipe for the cookies, I had plenty left over to either freeze or make myself some thin mints. I chose the latter. Amazing.



But back to the cake—I definitely did not roll the cookie dough thin enough before cutting as it was a dense, fudgy chocolate cake versus the expected light, cream-chocolate-cream sensation. As well, I packed in far too many cookies in each layer (6), when 4 would have sufficed.



Those are just notes for next time, really. Most importantly, it tasted pretty great and was delicately devoured with eagerness. And as the ice cream industry has taught us, it's hard to go wrong with cookies and cream.

Tuesday on Cake Thursday: June 25th

There was no other option for the third Cake Thursday than a chocolate cake.

It had to be something special, yet simple. Something that showcased the beauty of chocolate. I did not want to go the flourless route, yet the time for a multi-layer cake had not yet arrived.

After looking through my library, I decided it was finally time to tackle a cake from Rose Levy Beranbaum's The Cake Bible. I go to the book often to reference ingredients, measurements, etc, but have been a little wary to try her mixing method ever since my failure with the Nigella recipe.

Throughout my serious cake baking life (which, granted, is the past few years), I have only come across the mix-dry-with-butter method (dreaming?) versus the traditional creaming method twice. Nigella and Rose. I'm sure it's out there in many other places, but because my exposure to it was so limited, I felt like a life-long Catholic who suddenly decided to dip my toes in the pool of Buddhism. Sure, that's a dramatic analogy, but you get the gist.

Chocolate Domingo Cake from The Cake Bible

9" pan, butter/parchment/butter/flour
Oven: 350 degrees

In a medium bowl, whisk together 1/4 cup + 3 tbsp. dutch processed cocoa (or 1/2 cup nonalkalized such as Hershey's), 2/3 cup sour cream, 2 large eggs and 1 1/2 tsp. vanilla until smooth. Set aside.

In a large bowl, combine 1 1/2 cups + 1 tbsp. flour (her recipe calls for cake flour, but I substituted all-purpose and cornstarch with wonderful results), 1 cup sugar, 3/4 tsp. baking powder, 1/4 tsp. baking soda, and 1/2 tsp. salt. Mix on low speed with an electric mixer for 30 seconds. Add 14 tbsp. softened unsalted butter and 1/2 of the cocoa mixture until the dry ingredients are moistened. Increase to medium speed (high if using a hand mixer) and beat for 1 1/2 minutes. Scrape down the bowl, then gradually add the remaining cocoa mixture in two batches, beating for 20 seconds after each addition.

The batter will be like a thick, whipped frosting. Fold into the pan, smooth the surface, and pop it into the oven. Bake for 30-40 minutes until the cake test comes back clean.

Let the cake cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then let cool completely, undressed.



Failure, this was not. Whatever had been lacking when I baked the Nigella recipe, was certainly abundant in the opposite this time. It came out of the oven exactly as R.L.B. described, which sent a little jolt of thrill through me, and tasted, well...

I can oddly describe it best in opposites: light, yet dense, moist, yet textured with a fine crumb, rich rich rich, yet not at all too much for the palate. A simple dusting of powdered sugar was all that it needed.

Though I can not say I've been converted completely to the dreaming method, just like religion in this world, I can't see why there's not room for more than one.