Summer Peach Cake

If you can muster the inner peace to not explode when you turn on the oven, you should definitely make this cake. Granted, the 100+ temperatures make summoning the will to add heat to your home that much more masochistic, but like I said: if you can find that inner namaste, this cake is a handsome reward. It's a simple summer cake recipe, one whose heft and flavor comes as much from thick, juicy peach slices as from freshly ground almonds.

You'd think the big hunks of fruit and almond flour would make this cake heavy, but they don't. No, it's not the lightest, most fluffy cake, but you know what? Neither is summer the lightest, freshest season. These are the dog days. With weather like this, you have two choices. You can sip cold soup, do a 10-day cleanse, and will the season to fade into fall, or -- if you can't beat'em, join'em. This slightly dense, incredibly moist cake will bring that love-hate relationship with summer right to the fore. It's plump and bursting with peach juice. It's not the least bit cold. And as you eat it, you'll realize that succumbing to the dog days of summer, while sweaty as hell, can actually be liberating.

While this recipe calls for peaches, summer nectarines are really hitting their stride. They work very well here, too. I've got a funky thing about peach fuzz, so I'm actually partial to nectarines -- but I admit that peaches were just made for this cake. Either way, make it. Set it out on the porch. Then pour yourself a glass of white, or mix a cold drink. Sit outside, cake slice in hand, and accept summer for the hot, sticky mess it is.

Summer Peach Cake adapted from Savour on Food52

3 ripe peaches (cling and freestone are both fine) 3/4 teaspoon freshly ground nutmeg 1 cup sugar, preferably unbleached 6 tablespoons softened unsalted butter 1 large egg 1/2 cup buttermilk 1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract 1/4 teaspoon almond extract 1 cup all-purpose flour 1/2 cup almond flour (or finely ground almonds) 1 teaspoon baking powder 1/4 teaspoon baking soda Turbinado Sugar, for topping the cake

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees. Butter and flour a 9-inch cake pan.

Cut the peaches in half and remove pits, then chop roughly. Toss the peaches with nutmeg and 2 tablespoons sugar. Set aside.

Cream together the butter and remaining sugar with a wooden spoon or spatula. Add the egg, buttermilk, vanilla and almond extracts, and stir to combine.

Combine the flours, baking powder, baking soda and salt. Add the flour mixture to the wet ingredients and mix until smooth (some lumps may remain). Pour batter into the prepared pan, and smooth top.

Lightly press the peaches into the top of the cake. (There's really no need to arrange them fancily, as they'll sink into the cake as it bakes.) Sprinkle turbinado sugar over the top of the cake; you'll need about 2 tablespoons.

Bake cake for 10 minutes, then reduce the oven heat to 325 degrees and bake for an additional 45 to 55 minutes, or until a toothpick in the center comes out clean.

The Only Lemon Cake You'll Ever Need.

I suppose I could call it Lemon Pound Cake as the Hamptons goddess did, but this title is more to the point. Once you make this lemon cake, it'll become the one. The. One. (Unless you're one of them crazy types who can't ever make the same thing twice...but I don't know any folks like that.)

And you know what? I'm not even one to go nuts for lemon cake. Hell, I didn't even think I liked lemon cake. But then I was at the Dupont farmers' market a couple weeks ago looking for something to bring to a meeting, and a half-ring of lemon cake at the bread stand caught my eye. We ate it, all of it. It was nice and firm, with a royal icing-type glaze of just powdered sugar and lemon juice. It was simple and classic, and really damn good. We ate it all.

Eating that cake, I realized I'd never really made a lemon cake before. I knew exactly what I wanted: flavors of lemon, butter, and good vanilla; texture that was both feathery and firm; and a light, bright yellow color. There was only one place to look for the perfect recipe, and she didn't disappoint.

Acknowledging that this is an Ina cake, it naturally starts with a half-pound of butter. To that, you add very, very much lemon. Lemon and sugar, and plenty of vanilla. Can't you just smell that amazingness steaming out of your oven? And as if that's not enough, you make a sweet, drippy lemon syrup and paint it over the finished loaves, giving each slice a tart one-two punch. The title says it all: this is the only lemon cake you'll ever need.

Ina's Lemon Pound Cake

For the cake: 1/2 pound (2 sticks) unsalted butter, at room temperature 2 1/2 cups granulated sugar, divided 4 extra-large eggs, at room temperature 1/3 cup grated lemon zest (6 to 8 large lemons) 3 cups flour 1/2 teaspoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon baking soda 1 teaspoon kosher salt 3/4 cup freshly squeezed lemon juice, divided 3/4 cup buttermilk, at room temperature 1 teaspoon pure vanilla extract

For the glaze: 2 cups confectioners' sugar, sifted 3 1/2 tablespoons freshly squeezed lemon juice

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease and flour 2 (8 1/2 by 4 1/4 by 2 1/2-inch) loaf pans. You may also line the bottom with parchment paper, if desired.

Cream the butter and 2 cups granulated sugar in the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, until light and fluffy, about 5 minutes. With the mixer on medium speed, add the eggs, 1 at a time, and the lemon zest.

Sift together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt in a bowl. In another bowl, combine 1/4 cup lemon juice, the buttermilk, and vanilla. Add the flour and buttermilk mixtures alternately to the batter, beginning and ending with the flour. Divide the batter evenly between the pans, smooth the tops, and bake for 45 minutes to 1 hour, until a cake tester comes out clean.

Combine 1/2 cup granulated sugar with 1/2 cup lemon juice in a small saucepan and cook over low heat until the sugar dissolves. When the cakes are done, allow to cool for 10 minutes. Remove the cakes from the pans and set them on a rack set over a tray or sheet pan; spoon the lemon syrup over them. Allow the cakes to cool completely.

For the glaze, combine the confectioners' sugar and the lemon juice in a bowl, mixing with a wire whisk until smooth. Pour over the tops of the cakes and allow the glaze to drizzle down the sides.

Maple Yogurt Pound Cake

I rarely make the same thing twice. If something truly blows me out of the water -- as this did -- I'll make something like it again. Something like it, mind you; never identical. I like recipes, but I don't really like following them. I'd rather just take an old idea and riff on it. That's what I do best. So when I take out my pen, when I actually skip over to the fridge every ten seconds to scribble how much maple syrup I'm pouring into the bowl, you better believe whatever it is I'm making will absolutely knock your socks off.

Such is the case with this cake.

Chalk it up to the weather, but I've been on a serious maple kick recently. I guess it all started two Sundays ago, when I was whacked square across the face with the world's biggest craving for maple syrup. This was no small itch: I'm serious, people. I just wanted to shmear maple syrup all over my face. I could've tipped the jug and drunk it straight. It was that kind of craving.

How did I get from straight-no-chaser to the more subtle, more refined loaf you see here? Well, admittedly there was a middle step that involved hot toast drizzled with the stuff, which calmed me down a bit. Also, while I'm being honest, I also recently discovered this thick, viscous maple butter that's found its way onto more than one piece of challah. So the craving was fed. But still, I really wanted to make a cake. I wanted a loaf that I could slice up, take to work, and enjoy some maple on the road. Since maple goes so well with tart flavors like lemon and apple and berries, I thought I might do well to add it to a yogurt pound cake base. I checked out a few yogurt cake recipes to start; all of them called for sugar, and I was concerned replacing all the sugar with syrup would change the texture of the cake, making it too moist. My maple craving was stronger than this concern, though, so I did it anyway. If you have maple sugar on hand, feel free to use it in place of some of the syrup.

There are distinct upsides to using all syrup, though. First, the woodsy syrup and the tangy yogurt do something absolutely lovely together. But more importantly, they create an ultra-moist cake, a cake so moist it's a bit reminiscent of custard. This custardy texture is even more pronounced if you take a slice of the cake and toast it. Then it's truly crisp on the outside and luscious within. In a subtle, have-a-slice-with-tea kind of way, this cake is perfect.

Maple Yogurt Cake inspired by Bon Appetit

1/2 cup maple syrup, preferably grade B 3/4 cup yogurt 1/4 cup sugar 3 eggs 1 teaspoon vanilla 1 teaspoon lemon zest 1 1/2 cups flour 2 teaspoons baking powder 1/4 teaspoon salt 1/2 cup oil

Position rack in center of oven and preheat to 350°F. Generously butter 8 1/2x4 1/2x2 1/2-inch metal loaf pan.

Combine syrup, yogurt, eggs, sugar, vanilla, and lemon zest. Stir or whisk to combine. In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking powder, and salt. Add to wet ingredients and stir to incorporate. Add oil, and fold gradually until oil absorbs into the batter.

Place cake on baking sheet in oven and bake until tester inserted into center comes out clean, about 50 minutes. Cool cake in pan on rack 5 minutes. Cut around pan sides to loosen cake. Turn cake out onto rack. Turn cake upright on rack and cool completely. (Can be made 1 day ahead. Wrap and store at room temperature.)

Raspberry Streusel Coffee Cake

So...yea. It's been pretty snowy here, as you no doubt have heard. It's not the kind of weather that makes you eager to jump off the couch and run to the grocery store. Fortunately, I subjected myself to supermarket hell before last weekend, when the first blizzard was on its way, and fortunately, I'm a typical Jewish woman and totally overshopped, so I've got plenty of food in the fridge.

If getting off my lazy derriere to go outside isn't really in the cards, spending copious amounts of time in the kitchen most certainly is. The snow storm(s) provide an opportunity to make something complicated, something with steps, something luxurious, something you otherwise would flip past in favor of baked ziti. Raspberry streusel coffee cake was that thing for me.

I've been eyeing Rose Levy Berenbaum's streusel coffee cake from her fantastic book The Cake Bible for quite some time. It's easy to understand why: she's an expert baker, and she says it's one of her favorite cakes, so I assumed it'd instantly become one of mine. The recipe is a classic sour cream coffee cake that's layered with a walnut streusel. It calls for 2 sticks of butter for the cake, another half stick for the streusel, 4 egg yolks, loads of sugar, and a few other things. Needless to say, this one ain't gettin' tagged "good for you." But delicious? Oh yes.

Knowing myself as well as I do (we're pretty close after all these years), I figured I'd want something tart to offset all the sweetness, so I tossed half a bag of frozen raspberries atop the streusel topping, tucked beneath that top layer of cake batter. Perhaps that's why my cake wouldn't firm up in the center, even after 75 minutes of baking. A little annoying, but certain members of my household don't mind mushy cakes, so all was well. If you add the fruit, definitely either thaw and drain them, or use fresh berries instead. And you're not limited to berries: apples would be splendid here, as would peaches in summer.

If, like me, you're indoors today, and all is white, and the wind is blowing, and there's absolutely nowhere to go but the kitchen, this cake may just be an antidote to your cabin fever.

Raspberry Streusel Coffee Cake adapted from Rose Levy Berenbaum's The Cake Bible

For the streusel:

1/3 cup firmly packed light brown sugar 2 T granulated sugar 1 cup walnuts or pecans (I used pecans) 1 1/2 t cinnamon 1/2 cup (dip and sweep) unsifted cake flour 4 tablespoons (half a stick) softened unsalted butter 1/2 teaspoon vanilla

For the batter:

4 large egg yolks 2/3 c. Sour cream 1 1/2 tsp vannilla 2 c. sifted cake flour 1 c. Sugar 1/2 tsp. Baking powder 1/2 tsp baking soda 1/4 tsp salt 12 T (2 sticks) unsalted butter 2 cups fresh (preferred) or frozen, thawed, and drained raspberries

Prepare a 9 inch springform pan by greasing it, lining the bottom with a circle of parchment paper cut to fit, and then greasing and flouring the over that. Beranbaum suggests something called Magi-Cake Strips to insulate the sides as this cake browns a lot due to the yolk content and a long baking time. Instead I just folded foil over about 4-5 times and wrapped it around the pan, insulating it. Although I think the Magi-Cake Strips may work even better, this solution seemed to work ok as my cake browned but not excessively.

Preheat the oven to 350 F.

Streusel Topping and Filling:

In a food processor with the fitted blade, pulse the sugars, nuts and cinnamon until the nuts are coarsely chopped. Remove 3/4 cup to use as filling. To the remained add the cake flour, butter and vanilla and pulse briefly to form a coarse, crumbly mixture for the topping.

Batter:

In a medium bowl, lightly combine the yolks, vanilla and about 1/4 of the sour cream. Set aside.

In a large mixing bowl (or your mixer) combine the dry ingredients (I included the sugar here) and mix on low speed for 30 seconds to combine. Add the butter and remaining sour cream. Mix on low speed until the dry ingredients have been moistened and then increase to medium speed (high speed if using a hand mixer) and beat for 1 1/2 minutes to aerate the cake’s structure. Scrape down the sides as needed. Gradually add the egg mixture in 3 batches, beating for 20 seconds after each addition and scraping the sides each time. Remove from the mixer and use a spatula to fold the batter a few times, making sure that the very bottom and the sides all incorporate evenly.

Reserve about 1/3 of the batter and scrape the rest into the prepared pan. Smooth the surface with a spatula—this is a thick cake batter and will require smoothing. Sprinkle with the prepared streusel filling and then layer the apple slices over that. Dollop the rest of the batter into blobs over the apples slices and smooth it out with a spatula. Sprinkle the streusel topping over the top of the cake.

Bake for 55-65 minutes or until a cake tester comes out clean. Cover loosely with buttered foil after 45 minutes to prevent overbrowning. The cake should start to shrink back from the sides of the pan only after removing from the oven so that is not a sign that it is done. As I said in my post, my cake took about 75 minutes and still wasn't completely done in the center; blame the frozen raspberries. If you have fresh on hand, use them.

Let the cake cool in its pan on a rack for 10 minutes. Loosen the sides with a small metal spatula and remove the sides of the springform pan. Cool completely before wrapping airtight. Serve at room temperature.