Something Nice: Spicy Molasses Gingerbread Cake

When we got back to New York, our apartment smelled a little stale. What better way to warm it up and celebrate being home again? Seriously, I would bake this one just for the scent. You probably already have the ingredients around, even if you've been out of town awhile. And a slice of spicy gingerbread cake just might make unpacking easier.

This improved overnight in the fridge, so I recommend making it the day before and refrigerating (tightly wrapped in saran + foil) for a day before serving. The ginger mellows and permeates the entire cake with a little rest.


Though it's lovely with whipped cream, you could also serve this for brunch with a dollop of greek yogurt and some sliced pears. It's quite spicy and not too sweet, surprisingly moist and rich tasting. The fresh ginger is easiest to mince if you store it in your freezer.


Spicy Molasses Gingerbread Cake
Adapted from David Lebovitz

just under 1/2 cup fresh ginger
1/2 teaspoon powdered ginger
3/4 cup molasses (I used blackstrap, which is quite strong.)
just under 1/4 cup maple syrup
1 cup sugar
1 cup vegetable oil (peanut is recommended, but I used canola)
1 cup water
2 tsp baking soda
2-1/2 cups flour
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1/2 tsp ground cloves
1/2 tsp ground black pepper
1/2 tsp unsweetened cocoa powder
1 vanilla bean
2 eggs, beaten lightly

Position the oven rack in the center of the oven. Preheat the oven to 350°F. Line a 9 by 3-inch round cake pan or a 9 1/2 inch springform pan with a circle of parchment paper, or butter the inside (I did this, and it didn't stick at all.) Place pan on a cookie sheet to prevent spills.

Peel, slice, and chop the ginger very fine with a knife (or use a grater or food processor). Mix together the molasses, maple syrup, sugar, and oil. In another bowl, sift together the flour, cinnamon, cloves, cocoa, and black pepper.

Bring the water to the boil in a saucepan, stir in the baking soda, and then mix the hot water into the molasses mixture. Stir in the ginger.

Gradually whisk the dry ingredients into the batter. Add the eggs, and continue mixing until everything is thoroughly combined. Pour the batter into the prepared cake pan and bake for about 1 hour, until the top of the cake springs back lightly when pressed or a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. If the top of the cake browns too quickly before the cake is done, drape a piece of foil over it and continue baking.

Cool the cake for at least 30 minutes. Run a knife around the edge of the cake to loosen it from the pan. Remove sides from the pan to serve.

Say it's your birthday: Malted Milk Cake

Today is Bench's birthday! Saturday was the wonderful A's birthday! If I've ever had a better reason for baking a cake, I can't think of it! (Okay, so, maybe there was ALSO the tiniest bit of an ulterior motive--I got my hands on the Baked cookbook the second it came out, and have been dying--DYING--to take it for a test drive.) I floated the idea past Bench, with the proviso that he select the cake that I would attempt. Clever lad that he is, he accepted the challenge readily. After much deliberation, the decision was made, and the Malted Milk Cake gauntlet was thrown.

A few notes on the cake itself: the boys from Baked are very careful to tell you that white cakes are very delicate (something I did not actually know, having not ever made a white cake before. Yes, I know.), and that freezing the layers for a spell before frosting them might be a good idea. Seeing how enthusiastically the cake stuck itself to the parchment, the pans, the COOLING RACK (resulting in some rather nasty-looking divots in what became the middle layer--thank goodness frosting hides most ills), it seemed like an extremely sensible idea. I recommend it highly, as these cakes are fragile little buggers before they've had a bit of a chill. I personally decided to be an extremist and freeze them overnight, moving them to the refrigerator the next morning.



Another thing that the boys from Baked recommend is that you level off each layer of cake with a knife before assembling the cake; I'm going to come out and say that unless the workings of your inner ear could double as a level, you should probably skip that part. Seriously. I considered trying it and then remembered what happens when I try to split english muffins--let's just say that the problem would be considerably worse by the time I finished. I did take a serrated knife to the sides, just to even them out, but you can skip that part, too, unless it would bring you personal satisfaction. My feeling is: if you're baking a cake for someone and they call you out on aesthetics, they are clearly missing the point of your labor of love and you should probably just keep it for yourself. Or make them wear it as a hat. Whatever.

The frosting was quite fun, in that it was my first stab at buttercream in, oh, let's say, ten years. Thank goodness I'd had some recent exposure to Good Eats' episode on the stuff; thanks to the magic of Alton Brown, I knew more or less what to expect, and had in my back pocket the best advice you'll ever hear about buttercream: add the butter one piece at a time, waiting for it to incorporate completely before adding the next piece. It is time consuming, but totally worth it, as you walk out with a gorgeous, silky frosting (though, really, anything with a full pound of chocolate in it is going to be pretty splendid no matter how you slice it).

Despite the profusion of chocolate, I will admit: this was not my favorite frosting recipe (I have now confirmed what I have long suspected--I am a cream cheese frosting kind of girl). It worked tremendously well with the cake, however, as the robust, not-too-sweet density of the frosting was a perfect foil for the delicate dreaminess of the cake. As someone who typically regards cake as a vehicle for frosting, it was definitely a new experience to be more excited by the cake itself.

Frosting aside (and really, there was nothing wrong with it; it just wasn't my cup of tea), I still count the whole endeavor as a success: not only was it it was my first white cake (and my first triple-layer cake!), but it was a tremendous excuse to have a couple of my favorite people over, drink sauternes and anything else we could get our hands on, and determine that suspenders are better than xylophones. And at the end of the day, isn't that the whole point of baking? Win!

Malted milk cake
Excerpted from Baked, the cookbook. It is awesome and you should go buy it immediately, because this recipe is just the beginning of its amazingness. You should also try their chocolate babka if you ever make it to the bakery itself. Or a cinnamon chip scone. Trust me.

For the cake:
2 1/4 cups cake flour
3/4 cup all-purpose flour
1 cup malted-milk powder
1 tablespoon baking powder
1/4 teaspoon baking soda
3/4 teaspoon salt
1/4 teaspoon freshly grated nutmeg
1 stick unsalted butter, at room temperature
1/2 cup solid vegetable shortening, at room temperature
2 cups sugar
1 tablespoon pure vanilla extract
2 cups ice water
4 large egg whites, at room temperature

For the frosting:
10 ounces bittersweet chocolate, finely chopped
10 ounces milk chocolate, finely chopped
1 3/4 cups heavy cream
3 tablespoons light corn syrup
4 sticks (1 pound) unsalted butter, cut into 1-inch chunks, softened

1. MAKE THE CAKE: Preheat the oven to 325°. Butter and flour three 8-inch cake pans and line the bottoms with parchment paper. In a large bowl, whisk the flours with the malt powder, baking powder, baking soda, salt and nutmeg.
2. In the bowl of a standing electric mixer fitted with a paddle, beat the butter with the shortening until creamy. Add the sugar and vanilla and beat at medium speed until fluffy, about 3 minutes. Beat in the dry ingredients in 3 batches at low speed, alternating with the ice water, occasionally scraping down the side of the bowl.
3. In a clean bowl, beat the egg whites at medium-high speed until soft peaks form. Fold the egg whites into the batter. Divide the batter between the pans, spreading it evenly, and bake the cakes for 40 to 45 minutes until a toothpick inserted into the center comes out clean. Let the cakes cool in the pans for 20 minutes, then invert them onto a rack (note: it might be worth putting a piece of parchment paper on the rack first, otherwise you might lose a bit of the cake to the grid of the rack, as I did) and let cool completely. Peel off the parchment. (A tip: Wrap the individual layers in foil and freeze them for at least an hour before even attempting to frost them. You will not regret this.)
   
4. MEANWHILE, MAKE THE FROSTING: Place the chocolate in a large bowl. In a small saucepan, bring the cream to a boil, then remove from heat. Add the corn syrup; immediately pour the mixture over the chocolate. Let stand for 2 to 3 minutes, until the chocolate has melted, then whisk until smooth. Let cool to room temperature.
5. Transfer the mixture to the bowl of a standing electric mixer fitted with a wire whisk. Gradually beat in the butter at medium speed, a few chunks at a time, and beat until thoroughly incorporated between additions. The frosting should be smooth and silky. Refrigerate the frosting just until it is thick enough to hold its shape, 10 to 15 minutes.
6. Place one cake layer on a serving platter and spread 1 1/4 cups of the frosting over the top in an even layer. Repeat to form 2 more layers. Spread a thin layer of frosting over the side of the cake and refrigerate briefly until firm. Frost the side with the remaining frosting. Garnish the cake with malted-milk balls and refrigerate briefly to firm up the frosting before serving.
7. Remember to share. You will be sorely tempted to keep it all for yourself.
   

Weekend Loafing: Meyer Lemon Poppyseed Yogurt Cake

I must confess, I have a weakness for Meyer lemons. The floral scent! The sweet juice! I nearly squealed when I spotted them at Whole Foods on Saturday.

I really try to buy only local produce, but I simply cannot resist these, even if they come from whatever faraway place (must be paradise.) I love them squeezed into salad dressing instead of vinegar, I love them mixed with fish or shrimp and avocados, I love them in a glass with seltzer, and pretty much any way they can be eaten/smelled/enjoyed. When it's winter (which it is becoming, fast) you just need a little citrus pick-me-up.

Since I spotted cheap poppyseeds in bulk at an Indian grocery this morning, I knew that the second half of my prized Meyer lemon would have to appear in dessert. (The first half did its duty in arugula salad.) This delicately lemony loaf cake would also be a treat with raspberries (or raspberry sauce) on top, if you happen to have any in your freezer. Don't skip the glaze, though, it gives an essential infusion of citrusy brightness. If you have extra lemons you could make the glaze all-lemon. I didn't, so the glaze was a three citrus mix.

If you are a tea-taker, or a cake-for-brunch eater, this loaf would work for that, too.


Meyer Lemon Poppyseed Loaf
Adapted from Ina Garten and Smitten Kitchen

1 1/2 cups all-purpose flour
2 teaspoons baking powder
1/2 teaspoon kosher salt
one small container Fage Greek yogurt (I used nonfat)
3/4 cup + 1 1/2 tablespoons sugar, divided
3 extra-large eggs
2 teaspoons grated citrus zest (I used Meyer lemon and clementine)
1/2 teaspoon pure vanilla extract
1/2 cup vegetable oil
2 T poppyseeds
1/3 cup + 1 tablespoon freshly squeezed citrus juice (I used a mix of Meyer lemon, clementine, and lime juice)

Preheat the oven to 350 degrees F. Grease an 8 1/2 by 4 1/4 by 2 1/2-inch loaf pan.

Sift together the flour, baking powder, and salt into 1 bowl. In another bowl, whisk together the yogurt, 3/4 cup sugar, the eggs, oil, lemon zest, 1 T lemon juice, and vanilla. Slowly stir the dry ingredients into the wet ingredients, making sure it's all incorporated. Fold in the poppyseeds. Pour the batter into the prepared pan and bake for about 50 minutes, or until a cake tester placed in the center of the loaf comes out clean.

Meanwhile, cook the 1/3 cup citrus juice and remaining 1 1/2 tablespoons sugar in a small pan until the sugar dissolves and the mixture begins to thicken slightly. Set aside.

When the cake is done, allow it to cool in the pan for 10 minutes. Carefully place on a baking rack over a sheet pan. While the cake is still warm, pour the glaze over the cake and allow it to soak in. (Deb suggests using a pastry brush works great for this, and making tiny holes with a toothpick to draw the syrup in better). Cool before serving.

Note: I'm sure you could use whole-milk yogurt to great success. But isn't nonfat Greek yogurt miraculous? Such density and richness.