Brazen Proclamations: The Best Damn Meyer Lemon Cake

Sometimes the name of a recipe can make all the difference in its appeal. Beyond just listing tasty components like chocolate, cardamom, anchovies, lavender, or fresh fennel (preferably not all together), I am likely to dog-ear a recipe if its name includes something like "The Cake That Got Me Fired" or "The Winning-Hearts-and-Minds Cake".



Around the time that I discovered Saveur magazine (thanks to my culinary-savvy uncle), I stumbled across the recipe on its website for "The Best Damn Meyer Lemon Cake." Such a brazen proclamation caught my full attention and has held it for at least two years.

Finally, I got around to making the recipe last week when I decided to veer off my grocery list (a frequent occurrence, actually). Too evocative of the coming spring season to pass by, I scooped up six meyer lemons and have been squeezing them into pasta and zesting them into vinaigrettes, but not before I set aside three for this set purpose.

Even though my experience in lemon cakes is limited, my results from this cake recipe were indeed damn good. The crumb was tight and moist. The taste was pure and gentle with fresh lemony tang around the golden crusted edges. I probably could have achieved more lemon flavor throughout but did not want to purchase lemon extract, since it is so rarely called for in recipes I encounter. Zesting an extra lemon ensured sufficient flavor, and I would use the same method all over again.



The Best Damn Meyer Lemon Cake
Adapted from Saveur

Serves 8-10

I did not use the pan the original recipe specified (a light-colored metal loaf versus a dark one). Because of this, my cake did brown to a degree, but in no way that altered its taste. I simply needed to slip foil over it about twenty minutes into the baking process. Also worth noting before getting started, this cake improves with some sitting time, so try to bake it well enough ahead of serving. I allowed twelve hours from baking to slicing, but twenty-four is recommended.

8 Tbsp. melted butter, plus more for pan
1 1/3 cups sugar
1 1/2 cups flour
1 tsp. baking powder
3/4 tsp. fine salt
2 eggs, at room temp
1/2 cup whole milk, at room temp
1/2 cup almond meal
Zest of 3 meyer lemons
Juice of 2 meyer lemons

Heat oven to 350°. Butter a loaf pan measuring 8 1/2" x 4 1/2" x 2 3/4" and, for extra security, you may tuck in a square of parchment paper to line the long sides for easy removal.

Melt butter and allow it to cool slightly as you sift together flour, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.

Combine butter and 1 cup of sugar in the large bowl of a standing mixer (or large bowl with electric hand beaters within reach). Mix until well combined, about 1 minute. Add the eggs, one at a time, beating just long enough to incorporate.

Next, alternate additions of the flour mixture and milk: on low speed, add a third of each batch at a time, beginning and ending with the flour.

Using a broad spatula, scrape down sides of bowl and gently fold in the lemon zest and almond meal to complete a sunshiny yellow fluid batter. Turn it into the prepared loaf pan and bake for approximately 60 minutes. (Depending on the tint of your pan, it may start to brown around 20 minutes. If so, cover with foil). Once a toothpick comes out of the center clean, remove from the oven and transfer to a cooling rack.

In the last ten minutes of baking your cake, prepare the glaze: in a small saucepan over medium heat, combine the remaining 1/3 cup of sugar and the lemon juice. Stir frequently until dissolved but not boiling.

As soon as the cake is out of the oven, and while the glaze is still hot, begin to brush it over the slopping surface of the cake. Patiently brush layer over layer until all the liquid has been absorbed. At this point, turn the cake out of its pan and allow it to cool upright on the cooling rack. When it has reached room temperature (or close to), wrap well in plastic wrap and let it stand at room temperature for at least 12 hours.

Three Lemons Make a Loaf

While this blog has diffused over the last several months into less and less of a food-centric blog, that has not necessarily meant that my activity in the kitchen has ceased. I'd never allow that to happen. But it certainly has declined.

Having just counted up the weeks since I arrived here in New Zealand (Eight! It's been eight weeks! I've been telling everyone five.) and then tacking on the ten days of road-tripping prior to our departure, I haven't been in a familiar kitchen since August 30th.

No wonder I was starting to get antsy for the browning of onions, drizzling of olive oil, creaming of butter and sugar, and the habit of a watchful eye on the oven.

I've made a few cakes for events and put together individual lunches but only enough to count on my fingers, and that's more than slightly out of the ordinary. My old ordinary anyway. Being in a home-stay situation for three months means that I'm getting to experience the hospitality of initial strangers, and I am so thankful for having been invited into family rituals such as the sharing of food. At times sitting down to a communal meal is far more important (and delicious) than having put together my favorite salad or soup.



While at a friend's last week, I noticed her two lemon trees full of large sunny yellow fruit. As I made my selection from the tree branches, I couldn't help smelling the sweet skin of each beautiful citrus. There's no comparing these and the thin-skinned ones at the supermarket.

I decided to modify a favorite recipe for these lemons. I had noted the suggestion of substituting lemons when I first read the recipe but always stuck with oranges, sometimes the Cara Cara variety. Making the switch to lemons proved entirely worthwhile. I held off on the suggested glaze until tasting the loaf (yes, I used a long, skinny loaf pan lined with baking paper instead), and I was glad to discover that the additional sugar wasn't necessary.

Everyone seemed to love this loaf and commented on its moistness. I love the visible bits of rind in each slice from coarsely mincing the boiled lemons. Bonus: it is gluten-free and dairy (not egg) free with very little fat.



If you're making it for an event, just be sure to give the cake/loaf a day for the flavors to brighten. If there's no particular occasion, do your best to practice self-control and save at least half for the next couple days. The taste will only improve.

Photos of my previous versions are here and here.
Recipe found here.

Simplicity surprises

Sometimes the simplest things bring happiness. Like meyer lemons. And polaroid film.



I love it when simplicity surprises. I didn't think much of this shot when I took it, but seeing it on my computer screen tonight, I'm quite pleased.

What do you think? Do the colors please you like they do me?

A Good Cake Indeed

Yesterday I mentioned that I baked a cake, and I feel that I simply must bring it up again.



From the moment my eyes finished grazing the ingredient list, I knew I'd like it. So it only seemed appropriate to spend some time on Sunday afternoon baking a cake with my roommate, who is very eager to learn how to bake and has elected me as her know-it-all resource (eek!).

One of my favorite cakes has an almond flour base, so I knew Nigel Slater was on to something when he added pistachios and rosewater to his cake.

I know you might not all agree when you hear the word "rose water" (ahem, Mom, I'm thinking of you) because roses and lavender and such are supposed to be smelled and not digested, but I have been enjoying every drop of my bottle of rose water. And that's the key. Just a drop or a splash can add a sweet undertone to a dish. It reminds me of English tea gardens and baklava and lassi and corners of the world I'm wishing to see.

While I'm getting all dreamy, let me tell you about a dreamy book I've been thumbing through lately. It's Nigel Slater's The Kitchen Diaries, and it earns its "dreaminess" through each turn of the sturdy warmly cream-colored pages. Photographs are smoothly printed in a matte finish throughout the book, and they include plenty of shots of Nigel's equally dreamy garden. The layout and font choices are clean and simple, which matches his casual and inviting writing style perfectly. Not to mention the recipes.



Oh, the recipes. Some of them, frankly, I don't think I'll ever attempt (no thanks, oxtail) but I've also been surprised to find myself drawn to a radish, mint, and feta salad (I'm still learning to appreciate radishes). And then there is a countless number of winners. From simple salads to pastas to trifles that make my mouth water, I'm reluctant to hand this book back over to my local library.

But let's not forget about that cake.



Rose and Pistachio Cake
Adapted from Nigel Slater's The Kitchen Diaries

Serves 12.

Cake:
1/2 lb. (2 sticks) and 2 tablespoons butter
1 cup sugar (fair trade, please)
3 large eggs
2/3 cup shelled pistachios
2/3 cup ground almonds
2 small lemons
1/3 cup white grape juice
1-1/4 teaspoons rose water
1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon all-purpose flour

Icing:
3/4 cup confectioners' sugar
2 tablespoons lemon juice (can be squeezed from lemons above)

Preheat oven to 325°F. Line the bottom of a non-stick 9-inch cake pan with parchment paper.

Prepare by grinding your pistachios into fine crumbs in a food processor (or in small qualities in a coffee grinder, as I did), and zest and squeeze your lemons dry.

Now, cream butter and sugar until light and fluffy. Add eggs one at a time, beating between each addition. Add almonds, pistachios, butter, and sugar to bowl and mix. Set aside 2 tablespoons of lemon juice for icing and add remaining amount along with white grape juice and rosewater to mixture. Lately, fold in flour with a large spoon or spatula.

Scoop mixture into the lined baking pan and bake for 45-50 minutes, covering lightly with foil for the last ten minutes.

Check cake by inserting skewer into center. If it comes out fairly clean, then take out and let it cool completely in the pan. Run a knife around the edge and turn it out.

For icing, sift sugar into lemon juice and mix together with a fork until smooth. Pour over cake and leave for half an hour to set.