Meyer Lemon Buttermilk Mini Cake with Blueberry Compote and Mascarpone Cream. One day, while browsing West Elm‘s website for some tableware, I came across their Valentine’s Day “Treat for Two” recipe special. To my surprise, I learned that the featured recipes were developed by Mark and Jenna of Whimsy & Spice Brooklyn Confectioners. Jenna also writes a fabulous blog, Sweet Fine Day, which I totally adore! So of course, I just needed to try one of their recipes. It’s just a coincidence also that I had a batch of beautiful golden Meyer lemons and a pint of juicy blueberries in the fridge. Why not attempt to make the Meyer Lemon Buttermilk Cake with Blueberry-Lavender Compote and Mascarpone Cream? I thought. I have all the ingredients in my pantry, except for the mascarpone cheese. Now, I am a fan of lavender in my hand soap, but NOT in my food, so I opted to drop it from Mark and Jenna’s original blueberry-lavender compote.
Did you also know that mascarpone is not really cheese even though it has the texture and taste of cream cheese? Directions: 1. 2. 3. 4. 5. Triple berry summer buttermilk bundt. Our toddler left us. Or, at least until Friday. Over the last 2 3/4 years, we’ve occasionally been blessed with the chance to go away for a few days . We return well-rested and smiling, sandy grit in the bottom of our suitcases, traces of whatever had vexed us before we left deliciously eviscerated from memory, and almost giddy with excitement to start scraping spaghetti from the underside of the high chair again.
But this is the first time — with barely a “Sayonara!” As he ran out the door or a single “Wish you were here!” Postcard from the road — that Jacob has headed out for lazier climes without us. He’s spending a week at the mountain retreat of Camp Grandparents, where he’s forced to endure petting zoos, baby pools, wide expanses of fresh air, nonstop adoration, and, no doubt, all of the ice cream he can talk them into. Whichever version of our week off will prevail remains to be seen, but at least for the weekend, as it should, leisure won.
Blueberry Yogurt Multigrain Pancakes. Cranberry vanilla coffee cake. I know it would seem that someone who makes as many celebration cakes as I do would dream only in stacked layers, draped ganache and swirled buttercream, but the truth is that I think that the best kind of cake on earth is a coffee cake. They’re simple and cute; they’re alll flavor with minimal flair; they take a third of the time to make. And they may not make people gasp when walked into a room topped with sparklers, but they, without fail, never make it out of said room intact. I sometimes call these cakes “dinner party cakes” because as it turns out, it’s all people usually want for dessert after a big meal. In fact, you might find that the space between becoming a frequent or occasional dinner party guest is entirely filled with gusts of cinnamon-sugar, streusel or perhaps a vanilla bean and whole cranberries. (Yes, the obsession continues.)
I made this cranberry-vanilla one (an inspiration I was not alone in) for my friend Jocelyn’s tree-trimming party on Monday night. Strawberry summer cake. It is not summer yet. In fact, it’s been raining for more than a week, and another week — the one in which I presume we’ll be introduced to our new mosquito overlords — is promised. In fact, it was so cold that I met a friend for lunch today and had to wear both a light wool sweater and a jacket.
It’s almost like summer looked at New York City and said “pbbbblt!” But I know it’s coming. I know it’s coming because strawberries appeared at the Greenmarkets last week and if you think I dork out pretty badly when the first asparagus stalks appear, you ain’t seen nothing like my “the strawberries are here!” Dance. I hope this will be your summer cake. And your apartment will smell like a strawberry patch. One year ago: Rustic Rhubarb TartsTwo years ago: Raspberry Buttermilk Cake and Slaw TartareFour years ago: Cellophane Noodle Salad with Roast Pork Strawberry Summer Cake Adapted, only slightly, from Martha Stewart I recently picked up some barley flour and fell in love with it.
Rhubarb snacking cake. Almost every year, as soon as the weather gets warm, I become obsessed with a simple, single layer cake that can be made in little time and that I promise will be all you need to be welcome at any picnic/barbecue/cook out/pot-luck that summer. Three years ago, it was a raspberry buttermilk cake, which was the equivalent of taking a single, thin layer from the very best yellow birthday cake you’ve ever had, scattering fresh raspberries over it and baking it until bronzed and perfect. Needless to say, it went on repeat. Later that summer, it was blueberry boy bait, a cake so decadent and buttery I briefly questioned if it had too much butter, then checked my pulse, realized any talk of too much butter was simply madness, and enjoyed the cake thoroughly for as long as the blueberries lasted.
(Also, it worked.) Because this cake, it simply wins. Rhubarb Snacking Cake This cake was inspired by one I saw in Martha Stewart Living this month, but I changed a lot. Plum kuchen. I’ve been curious to make a yeasted coffee cake for years, but every time I got close to making one, I decided against it. Would it be dry or overly-firm? Would it taste too much like bread? How would I know a good one if I’ve probably never had an authentic German kuchen — a general name for a type of sweet, yeasted cake, usually served with coffee — one? I’ve said this before but it bears repeating: I’m a master at talking myself out of things. But then I saw a plum kuchen in this month’s Gourmet magazine and I couldn’t get it out of my head. [This does not, however, mean that I approached this recipe with even a modicum of common sense.
I returned home to a cake that had not committed some sort of batter hara kiri, and I was so relieved, I wanted to kiss it. One year ago: Blueberry Pancakes + Pancakes 101 and Huevos Rancheros Plums, previously: Dimply Plum Cake Plum Kuchen Adapted, barely, from Gourmet Gourmet says it serves 8, but I cut mine into 16 squares.