Buttermilk Country Cake, Homemade Creme Fraiche

In my minds eye, a good cake is at least two layers high. It's fluffy and moist and laden with chocolate and, if I'm lucky, coated from head to toe and all in between with cream cheese frosting. Or better yet, chocolate cream cheese frosting. In a word, decadent.

It's easy to pass up simpler cakes in favor of the sky-high versions I make for birthdays and such. But when a more casual occasion comes along and I have good reason to make a cake that's not coated in frosting, I jump at the chance. Much like the toasted flour sables I made in my last post, this cake is very girl-next-door. It's the epitome of rustic simplicity, a simple batter flavored with just buttermilk and vanilla. The resulting cake is clean and pure, its texture at once moist and airy. It's a cake made for brunch or a picnic in the park. A slice would also be the perfect accompaniment to a cup of tea, which is a ritual for me on winter mornings.

Oops! I've gotta let you know where this cake is from: it's Rose Levy Beranbaum's brainchild, in her genius bakebook The Cake Bible. If there's one thing I've gleaned from poring through the book these past two weeks, it's that Beranbaum's cakes are fundamentally different than most I've made before. Instead of creaming the butter and sugar together and subsequently adding the dry ingredients, this cake starts with flour, sugar, salt, and leavening agents. Butter and buttermilk are added after that, and the mixture is beaten for 3 minutes to "aerate the cake's structure." It seemed a bit odd at first -- especially when my batter was so thick that aerating seemed out of the question -- I dutifully followed her instructions anyway, and the cake came out perfect.

I brought my buttermilk country cake to an engagement brunch for my good friends R and K. I'd planned to top it with some baked sliced apples, but I ended up changing the plan a little: see, it was pretty hot in my kitchen and the butter holding the ring of parchment paper to the base of the pan had melted, so the paper kept curling at the edges. I'd already made the baked apple slices, so I laid them out in a spiral pattern on top of the parchment paper to hold it down, then poured the batter overtop. I considered serving it upside down to show off the fruit, but the top of the cake had formed such a lovely crust that I left the apples underneath as a surprise. I also had some concord grape puree I'd made a couple weeks ago when grapes were available at the market, so I sliced the cake into two layers and spread the grape preserve in between.

I'd intended to serve it with homemade creme fraiche(!) -- another super easy recipe from The Cake Bible -- but it hadn't quite set in time for brunch. Back at home, I sampled a slice with the creme fraiche, you know, just to make sure I wasn't misguiding my readers. Boy did I lick that plate clean.

Ruth Levy Beranbaum's Buttermilk Country Cake

4 large egg yolks (I used 2 eggs instead) 2/3 cup buttermilk 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla 2 cups sifted cake flour 1 cup sugar 1 tablespoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon salt 8 tablespoons unsalted butter (softened)

Preheat oven to 350 degrees. Butter a 9"x2" springform pan; line the pan's bottom with a disk of parchment paper, then butter and flour the entire pan, shaking out the excess flour.

In a medium bowl, combine the yolks (or eggs), about 1/4 of the buttermilk, and the vanilla.

In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, combine all dry ingredients and mix on low for 30 seconds. Add the butter and the remaining buttermilk and continue to mix until everything is moistened. Increase to medium speed and beat for 1 1/2 minutes. (This is where Beranbaum says you're "aerating the structure of the dough." Mine felt more like bread dough and less like cake batter, but given that the cake came out very tasty, I think it's supposed to be this way.) Scrape down the sides of the bowl, then begin gradually adding the egg mixture in 3 batches, beating for 20 seconds after each addition. Scrape down the sides once more.

Pour batter into a prepared 9" in prepared pan and smooth the top. Bake for 30 - 40 minutes (mine baked 35), until a toothpick comes out clean and the center springs back when pressed. The edges aren't supposed to pull away from the pan until it is removed from the oven.

Let the cake cool still in the pan on a rack for 10 minutes. Then slide a knife around the perimeter of the cake to loosen it from the pan, and carefully remove the cake by flipping it onto the rack upside down. Immediately flip it back onto a plate or cake stand -- you need to store it rightside up so it doesn't break.

To serve, simply dust with powdered sugar and top with a dallop of whipped cream or creme fraiche. Fresh fruit would also be lovely -- Beranbaum recommends peaches.

Homemade Creme Fraiche adapted from The Cake Bible

1 cup heavy cream 1 tablespoon buttermilk sugar to taste

In a jar or container with a tight-fitting lid, mix the cream and buttermilk, and stir to combine. Close tightly and set in a warm place (I used the top of my stove). The buttermilk will take at least 12 hours to do its job, possibly up to 24; for ultra-pasteurized cream, Beranbaum says it could take as many as 36 hours. Be patient. You're aiming for a very thick product; Beranbaum says it should be pourable, but I wanted it thicker so I left it for 24 hours even though it had thickened after 12. Once thick, transfer to the refrigerator until ready to serve.

When you first open the jar, you'll see that the cream smells strong and sour. Don't mistake that smell for spoilage -- it's just the bacteria doing their job, as in homemade yogurt. The smell will fade almost completely after the creme fraiche is refrigerated.

When you're ready to serve the creme fraiche, stir in a teaspoon or so of sugar. Taste and adjust; I wanted mine pretty sweet, so I used 1.5 teaspoons. Beranbaum recommends whipping the creme fraiche until soft peaks form, but like I said, mine was the texture of cream cheese frosting and didn't need to be refrigerated.

Rebecca's Red Velvet Birthday Cake

What cake to bake for the girl who bakes birthday cakes?

Back in September, we had our friend Rebecca over for dinner right around her 25th birthday, so I decided to make her a birthday cake for dessert. Problem is, Rebecca's basically known for her cakes and cupcakes. She makes them all the time, and in so many different flavor combinations, it's hard not to be intimidated. She even wowed us all at her super bowl party a couple years ago by cutting out a strip from the middle of each cupcake, putting the two halves back together, and injecting some frosting in between, to make oblong, football-shaped cupcakes, complete with frosting to look like the laces. Show-stopping, for sure. I'm sure you wouldn't blame me if, after remembering those cupcakes, I reneged on the idea of baking for Rebecca and just served a fruit crisp.

But I didn't. Not content to balk at the challenge of baking for a baker, I settled on red velvet cake, a crowd-pleaser if ever there was one and a cinch to make. I used a recipe from The Hummingbird Bakery that my friend Sara from work always raves about. I don't have the Hummingbird Bakery Cookbook, but I'll expose my inner nerd and tell you that I actually went to Barnes and Noble, found the book on the shelf, and copied the recipe into my iphone. I told you, big nerd.

The cake didn't turn out as well as I'd hoped, and I'm convinced it's because I didn't have buttermilk. I made soured milk using warm milk and lemon juice, a classic but imprecise substitute. If you can get buttermilk, do it. I've made similar cakes before, and buttermilk really does make a difference.

And, of course, no red velvet cake would be complete without a very thick coating of cream cheese frosting, so you'll find my favorite recipe for that below, from the lovely Ina Garten.

Times they are a-changin'! NDP also just celebrated a birthday -- we're 2 years old now -- and along with the birthday came some tweaks and changes here and there. First, you'll notice our brand spankin' new banner, which I love. Hopefully I won't get sick of this one for a long time. Second, I had no choice but to update to the newest twitter feed widget, so you'll see my thoughts from 20 days ago until I can find a way to make it stop cycling through old tweets. Sorry about that! Lastly, I finally bit the bullet and made an NDP fan page on facebook, so go fan my page and get alerts about new recipes as they come out. I think that's it. Onto red velvet cake!

Red Velvet Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting

8 tablespoons unsalted butter, room temperature 1 1/2 cups sugar 2 eggs 5 tablespoons unsweetened cocoa 4 tablespoons red food coloring mixed with 2 Tablespoons water 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 1 cup buttermilk 2 1/4 cups all-purpose flour 1 teaspoon salt 1 teaspoon baking soda 3 teaspoons distilled white vinegar

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Grease and flour two 8-inch or 9-inch round cake pans. Set aside. In the bowl of a stand mixer fitted with a paddle attachment, cream the butter and sugar until light and fluffy, about three minutes. Turn mixer to high and add eggs. Scrape down the bowl as needed and beat until all ingredients are well incorporated.

In a separate, medium bowl, combine cocoa, vanilla and red food coloring to make a thick paste. Add to the batter, mixing thoroughly until completely combined. You may need to stop the mixer to scrape the bottom of the bowl; make sure batter and food coloring mixture are well-incorporated and that there are no streaks.

Turn mixer to low. Alternate between adding buttermilk and flour and salt, half of each at a time, until combined. Once all of flour and buttermilk are in the mixer bowl, beat on high until smooth.

Turn mixer to low and add baking soda and white vinegar. Turn to high and beat a few more minutes.

Spoon batter into prepared cake pans and bake for 25-35 minutes or until a skewer inserted into the center cupcake comes out clean.

Let rest in the pan for 20 minutes, then invert onto a cooling rack to cool completely before frosting.

Cream Cheese Frosting: via Ina Garten

8 oz. cream cheese (straight from the fridge is fine) 5 tablespoons softened butter 2 teaspoons vanilla 2 cups powdered sugar

Beat cream cheese, butter, and vanilla until combined. Gradually add powdered sugar. Continue to add more sifted powdered sugar until you reach a consistency and sweetness that fits your taste.\

To Frost:

I put two layers of frosting on cakes; the first layer acts as a base coat and seals in any crumbs so that the top layer looks smooth. Use about a third of the total frosting in this layer; first, put a big scoop of frosting on bottom cake layer, in center; use spatula or icing knife to spread outward. Top with second cake layer. Spread a scoop of frosting around sides, using a back-and-forth motion to spread evenly around circumference of cake, and do the same across the top. Stick cake in the freezer for 5 minutes if you have room -- this will harden the base coat and make it easier to spread the top coat. Then repeat all these steps using a thicker coat of frosting; you should use up all frosting by the end.

Perfect Pound Cake

The spring season is upon us, and we've got the rainfall to prove it! I wanted to go with something clean and fresh-looking for the spring blog design, with bright colors and lots of white space. So clear that cache and check out NDP's new layout -- I hope you like it!

We went to synagogue every week when I was a kid. After services, the congregation would flood into the social hall for "kiddush" -- meaning the prayer over the wine, but also the term used to describe the nibble-and-schmoozefest that occurs after prayers. The "kiddush ladies" would have set up long tables lined with silver trays full of herring (for the old men) and sweets (for the rest of us), and people would just go nuts. All the kids (including me) would wriggle our way in between the long lines of adults to score goodies before they were all snatched up, and like good children we'd compare plates to see who had accumulated the largest stash of junk food.

At a certain age, the game got old, as I realized that the goodies served at kiddush were actually really gross. The cookies were soft and crumbly, the chocolate was all non-dairy and really yuck, and the pound cake -- don't even get me started on the pound cake -- was truly terrible. Soft and mushy, but somehow still totally dry and bland-tasting, it was an affront to everything a pound cake should be. It's fair to say that kiddush ruined my appetite for pound cake, and even now, I struggle to get excited about it.

That is, I struggled to get excited about it, until I encountered Alice Medrich. As you might know from past posts, I've never made a recipe from Alice Medrich that wasn't absolutely, positively perfect. Her Pure Dessert is by far my favorite dessert cookbook, and I'm on my way to making every recipe contained therein. A while back, I noticed a pound cake recipe in Pure Dessert. The recipe is for olive oil pound cake, and calls for no butter at all. Seeing as Medrich is not shy with the butter -- not shy at all -- I assumed she must know something about olive oil in pound cake that I had yet to discover.

Oh, how right I was -- and by that, I mean how right she was -- about the olive oil. It lends the pound cake a moist, slightly dense but even crumb that's really just perfect. Its lower smoking point makes a super crispy crust. And its flavor, especially if you use a high-quality olive oil, is a lovely contrast to the cake's sweetness. I never thought I'd say this, but I loved this pound cake. Like, a lot. Like, so much that I made it twice in one week.

Well, almost. The first round was exactly as the recipe dictated. But the second time I made it slightly differently. (Backstory alert...) See, a couple weeks ago, when I catered that surprise birthday party for Mandy, I went out on a very skinny, brittle limb and made these candied-kumquat-and-olive appetizers that I read about on Alinea at Home that were totally wild-sounding and, oh my goodness, utterly delicious (who knew I even liked kumquats, for serious?). Inspired by the success of something so off-the-beaten-path and unassuming, I made another batch of candied kumquats, you know, just to have. The moment I stuck them in the fridge, it dawned on me that I'd no idea how or where to use them. I could envision a meat dish with them as a condiment or complementary ingredient, but I rarely make meat. I thing they're too strong to just serve over cake or ice cream (though the syrup over vanilla ice cream would be totally divine, come to think of it). So I turned to my new favorite source of advice -- twitter. (Are you on twitter? If so, you can follow my kitchen adventures and, um, other fun things.) Sure enough, that did it. The wonderfulPim chimed in with instructions that were under my nose the whole time: stick some into my favorite pound cake recipe (see where I'm going?) and brush the syrup over the top while the cake is still warm. Bingo.

I did just that, using Alice Medrich's tried-and-truly-wonderful pound cake recipe as a base. Except that my sherry ran out while making the first go-round, so this time I used cointreau (I'd have used triple sec but didn't have any on hand), which, with the kumquats and syrup, made an excellent pair. I tell you, this pound cake is a cinch to make (no butter=no creaming necessary), relatively good for you (I said relatively, didn't I?) and simply perfect in its simplicity. I actually served round two last Sunday morning with cowgirl creamery butter, pear-pecorino salad, and frittata, and as D said, it made for a somewhat unconventional but plenty delicious brunch.

What of the first picture in this post, the slice of cake with a dollop of chocolate ganache? Well, the lovely Lara of Cook and Eat and Still Life With... has launched a Flickr photography group (check Lara's websites for details), and in an attempt to kick it up a notch, I've joined. First challenge? Bread and chocolate. Easy said as done -- and by the way, kumquats and chocolate are a match made in heaven.

Olive Oil Pound Cake from Alice Medrich's Pure Dessert

3 cups (13.5 oz) all-purpose flour 2 tsp baking powder ¼ tsp salt 2 cups sugar 1 cup flavorful extra virgin olive oil 2 tsp grated orange zest (from 1 medium orange) 5 large cold eggs 1 cup medium (amontillado) sherry

Position a rack in the lower third of the oven and preheat the oven tot 350 °F. Grease and flour the pans. (Or, if you prefer, line the bottom and sides of the loaf pans with parchment.) Mix the flour, baking powder, and salt thoroughly in a large bowl and sift together. Set aside. In the bowl of a stand mixer (with the whisk attachment if you have one), beat the sugar, oil, and orange zest on high speed until well blended. Add the eggs one at a time, beating well after each addition; continue to beat until the mixture is thick and pale, 3 to 5 minutes. Stop the mixer and add half of the sherry. Beat just until blended. Repeat with another third of the flour, followed by the remaining sherry, and then the remaining flour. (If desired, now would be the time to incorporate any add-ins, including, if you're feeling adventurous, candied kumquats.) Scrape the batter into the pan(s). Bake until the cake tester comes out clean, 50 to 60 minutes for either the tube pan or the loaves. Cool the cake in the pan(s) on a rack for about 15 minutes before unmolding. Smaller pans, 30-35 minutes. If using a tube pan, slide a skewer around the tube. If the sides of the pan are straight, slide a thin knife or spatula around the sides to release the cake (unless lined with paper). If using a Bundt or other decorative pan, tap one side of the pan against the counter to release the cake, then tap the other side. Invert the cake onto a rack. Turn the preferred side up before cooling the cake completely. Wrapped airtight, the cake keeps well at room temperature for up to 3 days, or freeze for up to 3 months.

Cordon Rose Banana Cake

When I was a kid, my dad ate bananas a lot. He bought them when they were green, ate them when they were yellow and even when they had lots of brown spots, and when the rest of us finally managed to convince him that the last of the bunch was really way to overripe to eat, he'd freeze it until he had enough to make banana bread. My mom, clearly the more sane parent in this respect, ate bananas only when they were green. Yes, that's right -- totally and completely underripe. Once they were yellow, they were banana bread to her.

If I remember correctly, my brother ate bananas when they were yellow, and if pushed, he'd begrudgingly eat one with a couple spots, but he drew the line way before my dad did. And I? No, I don't eat bananas. Never liked'em. Just not really my thing. No surprise, then, that I've never really associated bananas with elegance or delicacy. Before this weekend, I'd have been hard pressed to believe that a couple bananas could produce not only your usual dense and very banana-y banana bread, but a moist and rich, yet light and delicate, cake as well.

I owe Mandy for this discovery. When D and I went over to the Masseys for dinner a few weeks ago, Mandy served a banana cake for dessert. The kids raved about the cake all evening -- "ohhh my gosh, it's just soooo good, you'll lovvvve it!" Ever the skeptic, I nodded, smiled, and said, "D, you must be so excited -- banana cake" while planning to politely request just a sliver for myself.

But you know me too well! I never pass up dessert. Not even banana-flavored dessert. And in this case, my bigger-than-stomach eyes served my mouth oh, so well. Tasting much more mildly of banana and wonderfully tart from sour cream and lemon zest, the Cordon Rose Banana Cake couldn't be further from run-of-the-mill banana bread. It's seriously delicate -- confusingly delicate, considering its main ingredient -- and very fragrant, from both the zest and a healthy dose of vanilla.

But that's not the end. In a stroke of genius, Mandy iced the cake with a quick caramel frosting. The frosting has lots of confectioners' sugar in it, so it's poured over the cake while still warm. As it solidifies, it develops a nice thin crust. The caramel is truly a perfect topping to this cake -- especially lovely if you use half salted butter in it. However, for all you purists out there, here's something I thought I'd never say: Cordon Rose Banana Cake is fantastic, absolutely fantastic, all by itself.

Cordon Rose Banana Cake From Rose Levy Beranbaum’s The Cake Bible

For the cake: 2 cups sifted cake flour ¾ cup plus 2 Tbs sugar (I used fine-grained unrefined cane sugar, which worked fine) 1 tsp baking soda ¾ tsp baking powder ½ tsp salt 2 large ripe bananas (about 225 grams, peeled) ½ cup sour cream (not low- or non-fat) 2 large eggs 1 ½ tsp pure vanilla extract 10 Tbs unsalted butter, at room temperature 2 tsp grated lemon zest (orange zest will also work)

For the frosting: 1 stick salted butter (if using unsalted, add 1/2 tsp of salt) 1/2 cup packed light brown sugar 1/2 cup packed dark brown sugar 1/4 cup whole milk 2 cups confectioners sugar, must be sifted! 1 tsp. vanilla

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit. Spray a 9-inch round springform pan with cooking spray, line the base with a round of parchment paper, and spray the parchment paper.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, sugar, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.

In a food processor, purée the banana and sour cream until completely smooth. Add the eggs and vanilla, and process briefly to combine. The puréed mixture will be light yellow and quite loose.

Add the softened butter and about ½ of the puréed mixture to the dry ingredients in the bowl. Beat to combine on low speed; then increase the speed and beat for about 90 seconds to aerate the cake structure. Scrape down the sides of the bowl with a rubber spatula, and add the rest of the purée, beating to combine well. The batter will be light tan in color and should be smooth and creamy.

Pour and scrape the batter into the prepared pan. Bake for 35-45 minutes, until the cake is golden and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean and dry. Remove the cake from the oven, let cool for 10 minutes while you make the frosting (below), and then remove the rim of the pan. Invert the cake onto a wire rack, and carefully remove the base of the pan and the parchment paper. Turn onto a cake platter.

For the frosting: Heat butter and brown sugars over medium until the mixture comes to a boil about 2 minutes. Add the milk, stir, and bring the mixture back to a boil, then remove the pan from the heat. Add the confectioners' sugar and vanilla. Beat with a wooden spoon or whisk until smooth. Use immediately, while it and cake are still warm, and spread quickly before cool.

Allow the cake to sit at room temperature for at least a half hour before serving.