Lemon-Poppy Seed Sour Cream Cake

November 27, 2012 Rivka

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.

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
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.

Ima's Challah

November 7, 2012 Rivka

Fresh from the archives, first published October 27, 2007: it's my Ima's challah, with new pictures and better instructions. Enjoy!

Growing up, there was one option for challah in town. Every Friday, my mom would swing by the local market and pick up two loaves from a nearby kosher bakery. The challah was truly uneventful: it was never dense enough, far too airy, not sweet or eggy, and usually even a bit crumbly. A lame excuse for challah, if you ask me.

My mother started making her own around the time I left the house, and she's never gone back. Before she had the kitchenaid, she did it all by hand, which is actually less time-consuming and labor intensive than one might think. Now that she has the stand mixer, though, challah is a snap.

Over the years, I've collected three fantastic recipes for challah. I used to make each with some regularity, but for several years now, I've only been making my mother's. Her basic recipe makes 2 small challot or 1 very large one, which is perfect for me, since I really don't need all that extra bread lying around (not that I would struggle to find things to do with it.... cough cough french toast cough cough). Second, it's just sweet enough without being cloying. Third, it's very easy to substitute some whole wheat flour and wheat gluten for white flour, which makes for a healthier, more rustic loaf of bread. And finally, she's my mom. Moms' recipes are best.

A warning about this challah. Back in college, I once brought challah to a meal for 17 people. I made three loaves, in case the first two went quickly. Sure enough, we sat down to dinner and within an instant, both loaves were gone. I offered to bring out the third: "no, no, don't. I couldn't possibly. I have to save room for dinner." Etc. After some more urging, I left well enough alone. After dinner, bellies stuffed, we all migrated over to the couch. I popped into the kitchen to help clean up....and found three girls holding the third challah between them, ripping off big pieces and devouring the loaf as though dinner had never happened. This stuff is addictive.

Of course, I've made my tweaks to the recipe. I've settled on substituting whole wheat flour for 1/3 of the flour in the recipe, which gives the challah that rustic quality without sacrificing texture. Because I use a modest amount of whole wheat, I don't add any wheat gluten.

I've also taken to making this recipe with melted butter. If you love butter's flavor in pastries and brioche, you'll love it here. And while I'm at it, I've started to use melted butter mixed with cinnamon and sugar to brush the loaves before baking. That makes the challah feel like a truly special treat.

Play around; see what you love. This has been my challah recipe for about 7 years, and I hope it can be yours, too.

Ima's ChallahMakes 2 smallish challot or 1 large
As I said, lots of options here. Whole wheat, or white (I've offered substitutions for those who want to use whole wheat flour at the end of the recipe); eggwash, or cinnamon-butter; 1 rise, or 2. Do what works for you.
1/2 cup warm water 1 teaspoon sugar 1 packet (2-1/2 teaspoons) yeast
3 cups flour 1 teaspoon salt 1/4 cup 2 tablespoons sugar 1/3 cup vegetable oil, olive oil, or melted butter 1/4 cup water 2 eggs pinch cardamom, optional For brushing: 1 egg 1 tablespoon honey
OR
3 tablespoons melted butter 1 teaspoon cinnamon 1 tablespoon sugar
Put 1/2 cup warm water in a small bowl. Add the teaspoon of sugar, sprinkle the yeast overtop, and leave it to proof for five minutes.
Mix flour, salt, and 1/4 cup 2 tablespoons sugar, and cardamom in a large bowl or in a stand mixer fitted with the paddle attachment. Stir to incorporate or blend on low speed.
While yeast is proofing, mix wet ingredients together.
Add yeast mixture to the flour, then add wet ingredients to the bowl, and mix using a wooden spoon or fork, or blend on low-medium speed, until the mixture looks uniform.
If using a stand mixer, switch to the dough hook and knead the dough for about ten minutes, until everything is well incorporated. Make sure flour at the very bottom of the bowl gets incorporated as well - this may require a bit of mixing and coaxing with your hands. If kneading the dough entirely by hand, turn the dough out onto a floured work surface and begin kneading, adding flour by the tablespoon as necessary, until dough is stretchy but not sticky, about 8-10 minutes.
When dough is fully kneaded, transfer it to a large bowl (if using the bowl in which you mixed the bread, you should rinse and dry it first). Cover the dough with a slightly moist towel or a loosely-fitted piece of plastic wrap. Set dough in a warm spot to rise for 45 minutes, until doubled in size. Gently deflate dough, and set aside for another 45-minute rise. Alternatively, let dough rise for 1 hour, until doubled, and then proof the dough for about 25 minutes after it's braided, before baking. I tend to do the latter, since I like to proof it.
Preheat oven to 375 degrees.
After the rise(s), the dough should be soft and more flexible than before. Halve dough, then use a dough hook to cut each half into 3 pieces. Roll each piece into a log almost 1-foot long. Braid the logs together to create your loaf. Trick: I start in the middle and do not pinch the top ends together before starting. After I've braided from halfway down to the bottom of the loaf, I turn the loaf over and upside down, and braid the other half. This way, both ends look identical. Tuck the ends beneath the loaf when braiding is finished.
Put each loaf on its own lined baking sheet, or side by side on a large baking sheet, leaving at least 2 inches between them. If using the egg for brushing, mix egg and honey to make an egg wash and lightly brush over each of the challot. Alternatively, mix the melted butter, sugar, and cinnamon together and brush that over the challot.
Bake at 375 degrees for 20-22 minutes, until challot are golden and baked through.
Serve warm or at room temperature.
**You can easily substitute up to 50% whole wheat flour, use the same amount as white, but add one tablespoon wheat gluten for every cup of flour. This ensures that the bread will have that same chewy but soft texture as with white flour. You can find wheat gluten at Whole Foods or Trader Joes -- and perhaps at your local supermarket as well. As for which whole wheat flour, my mom recommends King Arthur organic white whole wheat flour: in her words, "it gives the white bread consistency with whole wheat nutrition."

Galley Girl's Peach Tart

July 25, 2012 Rivka

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.

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.

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.

Butterscotch Pudding

December 31, 2011 Rivka

2011, over already? Jeez.

It was a big year, 2011. Perhaps not as epic as 2010 (marriage!), but 2011 saw our first anniversary (with drinks at the W and dinner at Palena - lucky us!) and, in the same month, the purchase of our first home (an awesome condo with plenty of open space, a dream kitchen, and a deck...have I really not shown you pictures yet? Wristslap! We'll solve that soon.)

D started a new job this year, and I've been busier than ever at mine. More direct reports, more travel, and generally more responsibiity have all thrown something of a wrench in my grand plan to post more in 2011. You see, I've got so much to share with you; all sorts of little tips and tricks, entertaining ideas, and tasty morsels I ate in restaurants and tried to recreate at home. I want to share them all with you. But time was scarce in 2011, so some of those tips, tricks, ideas, and recipes - well, they're still lodged in a far corn of my brain, waiting patiently for 2012.

Some of our cooking, eating, drinking, and food-coma-ranting did actually make it to this space, though. There were bourbon pecan bars and ginger brownies that will make you swoon, I guarantee it; Easy green beans with pesto vinaigrette that I've made, oh, 20 times since first posting about them; and of course, my favorite fish dish ever, which took me only 5 years to finally share with you - Veracruz-style snapper. With a new year on the horizon, I'm ready as ever to find more memorable food - and to share it with all of you.

So let's get the new year off to an auspicious start, shall we?

Friends, you will adore this butterscotch pudding. It's deeply caramelized, rich and thick, perfumed with plenty of vanilla and whisky. I'm thinking 2012 may just be the year of the pudding - and someone with top-notch food-prediction pedigree seems to agree with me. So here you go: the first pudding of 2012. It'll be the first of many, I hope.

In fact, I'm already making good on that last wish. Tonight, we're eating not one, but two different puddings for dessert. I'm setting up a Pudding Bar - and if, after this holiday season ends, you still have a hankering to entertain friends, you can do the same. I'm stocking the kitchen counter with big bowls of this here butterscotch pudding, as well as a chocolate coconut pudding from 101 Cookbooks. Alongside, I'll have little bowls filled with toasted coconut, sliced almonds, two kinds of cookie crumbles, grated chocolate, and whipped cream. Everyone gets a bowl to make their own customized pudding parfaits. Entertaining at its easiest and most delicious, yes?

I thought you'd agree.

So here's to a sweet 2012, filled with happiness, laughter, warmth, adventure, fear that comes with trying new things, and of course, plenty of pudding.

Butterscotch Puddingadapted from a recipe by David Lebovitz Serves 4-6
So why did I dare change a David L recipe? Well, I wanted my sugar caramelized; I wanted some cream with my milk; and yes, I wanted more whiskey. So here you have it - a deeply caramelized butterscotch pudding with a generous helping of booze. Call it scotchy butterscotch.
1 cup brown sugar 4 tablespoons unsalted butter 1/4 teaspoon coarse salt 1/2 cup cream 2 cups milk 3 tablespoons cornstarch or tapioca flour 2 eggs 1 tablespoon whiskey 1 teaspoon vanilla 1/2 cup whipped cream, for topping 1 oz. bittersweet chocolate, grated
Put sugar in a medium saucepan and set over medium heat. When sugar starts to melt, begin stirring gently with a fork. The sugar quickly will turn from caramelized to burnt, so watch it like a hawk. When sugar has melted and has started to smell like caramel (but before it smells burnt!), stir in the butter, 1 tablespoon at a time. When butter has all been incorporated, add cream in a slow stream until it, too, has been fully incorporated. At this point, you should have a dark brown liquidy caramel. Remove pan from the heat, add salt, and set aside.
In a small bowl, whisk cornstarch or tapioca flour into 1/2 cup of milk, stirring until mixture is completely smooth. Add eggs one at a time, and whisk to incorporate.
Slowly pour the remaining milk into the saucepan with the caramel mixture, stirring to combine. Then add the starch slurry and whisk that in, too. Set over a medium flame and heat, whisking continuously, until mixture has the texture of hot fudge. remove from heat and whisk another 60 seconds to help the pudding cool. Add whiskey and vanilla, and whisk to combine.
You'll refrigerate the pudding in the bowl(s) in which you plan to serve it. For family style, spoon it into a serving bowl. alternatively, set several small glasses or bowls on a rimmed baking sheet and spoon pudding into those dishes. If you like pudding skin, refrigerate either uncovered or covered with plastic wrap. If you don't like pudding skin, press the plastic wrap against the surface of the pudding. (Incidentally, if you don't like pudding skin, you can refrigerate the pudding in one large bowl, and apportion it right before serving. Whatever you prefer.)
To serve, top each cup of pudding with a dollop of whipped cream and a teaspoon or so of grated chocolate.

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