Lemon-Poppy Seed Sour Cream Cake

Now then. That was fun, wasn't it?

I'm imagining you all with bellies full of turkey and stuffing, cranberry sauce and cornbread and maybe too much pie. As for me, this past week was fulfilling in other ways. Time in Israel, time with family, a wedding, a weekend, and plenty of food (though none of it Thanksgiving-worthy; I'm craving some pumpkin right about now).

But it's back to work, so around here, it's back to business. And by business, I mean lemon poppy seed sour cream cake.

lemon poppy seed sour cream cake mise

This cake is a vague riff on one I made a while back, with lots of maple and plenty of yogurt and, surprisingly, not a trace of butter.

That was a good cake. This one is, too. It's fragrant from lemon and crunchy from those beautiful blue poppy seeds. It's plenty moist, just like its predecessor, but slightly lighter, because I swapped out the maple for plain old sugar. If you're a demerara kind of person, this cake would be just lovely with half regular, half demerara sugar.

lemon poppy seed sour cream cake lemons eggs

Post-Thanksgiving blues can overwhelm, especially when there's work involved. Take a piece of this to the office. While you're at it, bake up a second loaf for a friend. It's guiltless enough to count as an only-slightly-indulgent breakfast, and perfect with afternoon tea, which we've been drinking professionally these last couple of weeks. It's light enough to make even these increasingly cold days lighter and brighter. Before winter comes around, I'd like to keep soaking up this autumn sun. And eat more of this cake.

lemon poppy seed sour cream cake batter

Lemon-Poppy Seed Sour Cream Cake

1 stick (4 oz) butter, softened 3/4 cup sugar 3 eggs zest and juice of 2 medium lemons 1 teaspoon vanilla 3/4 cup sour cream 1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour 1 teaspoon baking powder 1 teaspoon baking soda 1/4 teaspoon salt 2 tablespoons poppy seeds

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees.

In the bowl of a stand mixer or a large bowl, cream butter and sugar together until light and fluffy, about 2 minutes. Add eggs one at a time, beating after each addition. Add lemon zest, juice, and vanilla, and continue mixing until the batter is smooth. Add sour cream and mix until fully incorporated.

In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add dry mix to the batter and mix on low speed just until flour mixture disappears. Add poppy seeds and mix for a few more seconds until distributed.

Butter and flour a loaf pan. Pour batter into pan, smooth the top of the batter, and transfer pan into the oven. Bake until top is golden brown and a toothpick inserted into the middle of the cake comes out clean, 50-55 minutes. Cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then slide a knife around the perimeter of the cake and carefully invert onto a rack.

Apples and Honey Cake

With Rosh Hashana less than 12 hours away, it may seem a bit late to be posting a cake for the Jewish New Year. However: however. Some of us leave the cooking until the last minute, yeah? And besides: if someone had shared this cake at the same time last year, I'd have read it and realized that I focused so intently on getting that brisket just perfectly seasoned, that challah burnished and browned just so, that there was absolutely no dessert. There was a Rosh Hashana meal at my house last year when my gracious guests nibbled on leftover apples and honey after the meal was done. This year, I've got dessert covered, for you and me both.

apple honey cake 1

Apple cake is traditional on this holiday, as is honey cake. Why not combine the two? If you make this into just one cake, it is a monstrosity, a tall and majestic cake with spices that demand to be heard as well as seen (the cake is a deep, dark brown). The apples are sprinkled with sugar and spice all their own, and after a nice, long stretch in a hot oven, they soften just enough while keeping their texture.

You'll be delighted to know that you can make this cake without any special equipment. No mixer necessary; I stirred the batter with a fork. And while I made this in a bundt pan, you can make it in three loaf pans, two round pans, or one 9x13 pan. At this stage in the game, options are key.

apple honey cake 3

Ironically, this new year I'm resolving to slow down a bit. The pace around here has been frenetic, and I'd like it to stop being that way. Dear friends of ours are getting married and having babies; summer is turning to fall in the most beautiful of ways; fruit and vegetables really are at their peak right now; and I'm creeping closer to the big 3-0 every day. Last-minute desserts notwithstanding, I'm going to try and enjoy these special days as best I can. There's a lot to savor right now.

apple honey cake 4

To everyone celebrating, shana tova; to everyone else, enjoy this lovely season.

Apples and Honey CakeAdapted from Marcy Goldman's A Treasury of Jewish Holiday Baking and Laura Goodenough's Apple Coffee Cake

This cake calls for orange juice and either tea or coffee as the liquid. I really dislike the flavors of apples and oranges together; hello, it's like mixing apples and oranges. So I swapped out the OJ for cider, which really reinforced the apple flavor in this cake. For me, honey cakes require the depth and thickness of coffee, but if you'd prefer tea's flavor, feel free to substitute it.

2 apples, peeled, cored, and thinly sliced 3 1/2 cups all-purpose flour 1 tablespoon baking powder 1 teaspoon baking soda 1/2 teaspoon salt 6 teaspoons ground cinnamon, divided 1/2 teaspoon ground cloves 1/2 teaspoon ground allspice 1/4 teaspoon powdered ginger 1 cup vegetable oil 1 cup honey 1 1/2 cups plus 2 tablespoons granulated sugar 1/2 cup brown sugar 3 eggs 1 teaspoon vanilla extract 1 cup warm coffee 1/2 cup apple cider or apple juice 1/4 cup rye or whiskey (if not using, replace with equal amount coffee or cider)

In a medium bowl, mix apple slices with 2 tablespoons sugar and 2 teaspoons cinnamon. Set aside.

Preheat the oven to 350°F. Lightly grease the pan(s). For tube and angel food pans, line the bottom with lightly greased parchment paper.

In a large bowl, whisk together the flour, baking powder, baking soda, salt, and all the spices and the remaining 4 teaspoons cinnamon. Make a well in the center and add the oil, honey, sugars, eggs, vanilla, coffee, apple cider, and whiskey.

Using a strong wire whisk or a fork, combine the ingredients well to make a batter, making sure that no ingredients are stuck to the bottom of the bowl.

If making a bundt cake, spoon one-third of the batter into the pan. Top with a ring of half the apples (try to remove them from the liquid that will have accumulated; reserve this liquid for another use), then repeat with another third of the batter, the rest of the apples, and the final third of the batter.

If making this in loaf pans or round pans, pour one-quarter of the batter into each of the pans; divide all the apples between the two pans; and divide the remaining half of the batter between the two pans.

If making this in a 9x13 pan, pour half the batter into the pan; top with all of the apples; and pour the remaining batter on top.

In a bundt pan, the apples may float to the top. They're unlikely to stay in layers. That's ok; still better to layer them in so they're fully coated with batter.

(Phew.)

Place the cake pan(s) on baking sheets stacked together and bake until the cake springs back when you touch it gently in the center. For angel and tube cake pans, bake for 60 to 70 minutes; loaf cakes, 45 to 55 minutes. For sheet-style cakes, the baking time is 40 to 45 minutes. This is a liquidy batter and, depending on your oven, it may need extra time. Cake should spring back when gently pressed. If you're not sure, check it with a toothpick, which should come out clean.

Let the cake stand for 15 minutes before removing it from the pan. Then invert it onto a wire rack to cool completely.

Galley Girl's Peach Tart

I met my friend Robbie (hi, Rob!) when we spent the year in Israel together on a fellowship. I was 22 at the time, young and impressionable; he was 25, but he seemed so much older and wiser. He'd had jobs, lived in the big city, tasted life. He'd learned the challenges of living independently, the wonders of Greek food in Astoria, the secrets of dried fruit and nuts from Sahadi's. I knew about Barnard, the Upper West Side, and college graduation speakers; Robbie knew everything else.

In Israel, Robbie and I bonded over amazing raw honey at the shuk, which we ate out of the jar by the spoonful without an ounce of shame. We became bonafide experts in hummus, learning the nuances of the different packaged brands and the mind-blowing freshness and flavor of the homemade stuff. We ran through the back streets of Jerusalem, passed long, summer days on the beaches of Tel Aviv and Ashkelon, and became residents of the wonderful neighborhood of Talpiot. It was a good year. It was a special, formative year.

That's the year I realized I was serious about food. After our friend Naomi brought homemade granola on a trip, I started to obsess about what might have been in it, working methodically on my own recipe until it was just perfect. Robbie was good company to explore my new-found hobby. He had endless patience and curiosity for my home cooking. He was basically a vegetarian, primed to appreciate my mostly meatless diet. But perhaps most importantly, Robbie introduced me to Chowhound.

In 2005, Chowhound wasn't the comprehensive food site it is today. It was basically just a food forum, organized geographically, for the eating-obsessed. Robbie couldn't believe I'd never heard of it, and after sinking slowly into its stranglehold, I couldn't, either. Chowhound was amazing. Posters were perpetually fixated on one food item or another, waxing poetic and getting aggressive about where to find the best burger/madeleines/ancho-flavored chocolate/loose-leaf yerba mate/etc. I quickly got hooked.

galley girl tart 1

Chowhound didn't have a recipe section, but occasionally, individual posters would be inspired to share their favorites. One such poster, Galley Girl, posted a basic recipe for a pear tart she got from her friend Laurie. The tart is more like a cake, really. It's so simple, it looks like 100 cakes you've made before. And, at the same time: it's totally, utterly, unforgettable.

On the boards of Chowhound, this tart is known as "Galley Girl's Pear Tart." Among Hounds, it's famous. Like I said, it's more of a cake than a tart. It's a dead-simple butter batter, and it absolutely MUST be topped with the ripest fruit you can get your hands on. The cake is nothing if the fruit isn't ripe.

It was a pear tart, and indeed, the buttery cake recipe has no better pairing. But in summer, when pears are scarce but peaches are at their prime, you can make it this way with lovely results. Since, as you may recall, I hate peach fuzz, I used nectarines.

galley girl tart 3

It's been a while since Robbie and I lived in Israel. I've gotten married; he has, too, and he has an adorable baby boy whom I'm determined to meet one of these days. (R&K -- I'm coming to visitl!)  Chowhound also has grown up: it has a shiny new site, all sorts of new features, and many, many more posters. But I'll always be indebted to Galley Girl, to the old school Hounds, and to Robbie, my dear friend, who indulged my obsessive side and helped me realize how much I love food. If I'd known then how good Galley Girl's tart is, I'd have made it for Robbie to thank him.

Galley Girl's Peach TartAdapted from Galley Girl's Pear Tart, originally on Chowhound

This tart is best when baked in an 8" springform. I don't have a pan that size, but following another poster's instructions, I've made 1 1/2 times the recipe in a 9" springform and an 8" square pan. Regardless of which pan and proportions you use, you must watch the thing carefully and make sure not to overbake it.

Ingredients: 3 very ripe, very juicy peaches or nectarines (in winter, use the pears she calls for in the original recipe), peeled (if peaches or pears) and cut into eighths 1 stick butter 3/4 cup sugar 1 teaspoon vanilla 2 eggs 1 cup flour 1 teaspoon baking powder 1/2 teaspoon salt

Cream butter, sugar, and vanilla until fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, mixing until fully combined. In a separate bowl, combine flour, baking powder, and salt. Add to the wet ingredients and mix on low speed or by hand just until combined. Do not overmix.

Grease an 8" springform pan generously with butter. If you only have a 9" springform or an 8" square pan, you need to make 1 1/2 times this recipe so the cake comes out properly.

Spread the cake batter into the pan, smooth with a knife to level the surface, and press sliced fruit into the cake. Press in as many as you can fit; don't be shy. Sprinkle a bit more sugar overtop.

Bake at 350 degrees until a skewer comes out clean. This can take as long as 1 hour, but start checking at 40 minutes; as Galley Girl says, this cake is a whole other thing if you overbake it...and not in a good way.

This cake is delicious the day of, but it's also great the next day. It's a snacking cake, if snacking cakes are your thing. I like to serve it for dessert after big meals. It's a humble, simple cake, but in my opinion, it really can't be beat.  I had a piece right out of the oven, and while it practically burned a hole in my napkin, it was worth every tongue-scorching bite.

Bourbon Nutmeg Pound Cake

Lately, I've been on something of a snacking cake kick. Snacking cakes: hardly a new concept, they're the loaf on the counter to enjoy with tea on a Saturday afternoon, or -- in my case -- the slices of sweet tucked into my lunch bag for when the 3 pm slump rolls around. The best snacking cake ever to leave my kitchen, for certain, is this number. I still make it at least monthly. In fact, I'd go so far as to say that I default to it, perhaps slighting other, equally wonderful cakes that deserve their moment in the sun.

When we visited Jess and Eli last month, Jess made a whole wheat cinnamon snacking cake from Melissa Clark that blew me away.  Here I was stuck on maple and yogurt, and Jess had whipped up warm, wheaty cinnamon magic.  I needed to  branch out.

I turned to my baking sensei, Alice Medrich, whose recipes are always perfect. I flipped past her page for kamut pound cake - I don't have kamut, but would like to have some, and try it, one day - and landed on the page where Medrich offers some adaptations of her kamut cake recipe. And there it was: a cake that just had to be the next in my snacking cake repertoire. That would be Bourbon Nutmeg Cake. Bourbon? Check. Nutmeg? already on the table, as I was making this (and always add nutmeg). The one ingredient I might not have had - in fact, didn't have until the day before - was spelt flour. Medrich says you can use either spelt or whole wheat, but I had a shiny new bag of spelt, propped on the counter. Check.

Now, I don't want to mislead you. Despite the bourbon, this cake will not conjure nights at the bar, or the speakeasy. (Yes, speakeasy! We went to one for my birthday and I am now obsessed. More on that another time.) It and the nutmeg perfume the cake delicately. You'll eat it with tea, or perhaps at breakfast. This is a civilized loaf. It's for grown-ups.

But boy, is it delicious. And the texture, mostly smooth but a bit sandy, is perfect. Not like I'm surprised.

We'll be nibbling on bourbon nutmeg cake tomorrow afternoon, along with a few other treats I've baked up. Enjoy the long weekend, and I'll see you back here real soon.

Bourbon Nutmeg Pound Cake

Adapted from Alice Medrich's Pure Dessert, one of my all-time favorite cookbooks

2 tablespoons whole milk 1 tablespoon bourbon 3 large eggs 1 1/2 teaspoons vanilla 1 cup cake flour (3.5 oz, according to Alice; my cup is about 5 oz, so I'm glad she noted the weight!) 1/3 cup plus 1 tablespoon (1.75 oz) spelt or whole wheat flour 3/4 cup sugar 3/4 teaspoon baking powder 1/4 teaspoon salt 1/2 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg 13 tablespoons (really) unsalted butter, softened (it's important that the butter be soft; if you didn't leave it out to soften, 10 seconds in a microwave will do the trick)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F and line a loaf pan with parchment paper.

Whisk wet ingredients in a medium bowl and set aside.

In a large mixing bowl or the bowl of a stand mixer, mix dry ingredients together. Cut the butter into big chunks and add it to the flour mixture along with half the wet mixture. Mix on low speed just until the dry ingredients are moistened. Increase speed to medium and beat for 1 minute. Scrape down the sides of the bowl, add half the remaining wet mixture, and beat just until combined. Add the remaining egg mixture and repeat, mixing just until combined.

Pour the batter into prepared pan, smooth the surface, and bake until a toothpick or skewer inserted into the center comes out clean, about 60 minutes. (Start checking at 55 minutes.) My cake didn't brown excessively on top, but if yours does, Medrich recommends tenting the top of the loaf with foil.

Cool the cake in the pan for 10 minutes on a rack or the stovetop, then remove to the rack to cool completely.

Serve simply, with a dollop of unsweetened whipped cream or as is.