It’s Sunday afternoon, cold and blustery outside, but warm and toasty inside by the fire. Mr. Handsome is upstairs resting with The Baby Nickel, Sweetsie is in her room (sleeping, hopefully), and the three older kids (Yo-Yo has a friend over) are outside doing who-knows-what (I don’t really care as long as they’re quiet and leaving me well enough alone).

I’m feeling pensive and muse-ful and gentle inside. If I could purr, I would. I’m not sure why I’m feeling so calmly pleasant, but I have a couple good guesses: first, I had some good conversations at church this morning and I laughed a lot; second, I’m wearing leggings and a flow-y gray dress that makes me feel like a cross between a hip hippie and a damsel from the Elizabethan period; third, I’m drinking coffee and eating (have eaten, rather) a piece of Italian Cream Cake; fourth, I have a number of creative projects and ideas that are inspiring me rather than overwhelming and frustrating me (though that is susceptible to change at the drop of a hat); fifth, a bottle of homemade elderberry wine, gifted to Mr. Handsome by the owner of the house where he’s been working lately, is sitting on the kitchen counter, calling to me (all hippie damsels drink homemade elderberry wine, right?); sixth, my girlfriend and her kids are coming over tomorrow morning and we’re going to play One Room Schoolhouse which will be fun and productive and will hopefully counteract the Monday morning blues that have been plaguing us these past few weeks; seventh, the house smells like apples because we’re drying them by the bushel.

But back to the cake.

We’ve been eating a lot of cake recently, if you haven’t already figured that out. There was the birthday cake that my mother made for me and then two weeks later Mr. Handsome’s birthday cake, a cheesecake. Yo-Yo has requested a chocolate cake with mint icing for his birthday this coming Friday. As if the birthday cakes haven’t been sufficient, I’ve been experimenting with other cakes—apple cake (one was a keeper; two were chicken food) and an Italian Cream Cake, another keeper for sure. That’s a lot of cake.

Italian cream cake is coconut cake with cream cheese pecan frosting. It’s delicious fresh, and it’s even better chilled (I’m keeping it in the fridge because of the cream cheese frosting). It has, after only two pieces (and a number of not-so-discreet snitches), positioned itself on the sacred list of My Favorite Cakes, right up there with cheesecake and chocolate cake. That’s saying a lot.

Mr. Handsome (he finished putting The Baby Nickel down) came to sit beside me on the sofa to eat his slice of cake. As he forked the last bite into his mouth he turned to me and said in a puzzled, pleasantly surprised sort of way, “That is really good cake.” It was almost offensive the way he said it, though I know exactly where he’s coming from, seeing as he’s sampled a greater number of chicken cakes than is normal.

Of this cake, though, the chickens will not be getting a crumb.*

Italian Cream Cake
Slightly adapted from Sarah’s blog

The original recipe called for half butter and half shortening, but I used three-quarters butter and one-quarter shortening (because that was all the shortening I had on hand). I think next time I will use all butter, or I may experiment and sub a little of the butter with coconut oil.

Also, I didn’t have buttermilk, so I put a couple tablespoons of plain yogurt in the bottom of a one-cup measure, topped it off with milk, stirred to combine, and voila, made buttermilk.

1 cup butter
2 cups sugar
5 eggs, separated
2 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking soda
1 tablespoon vanilla
1 cup buttermilk
1 cup sweetened coconut
1 recipe cream cheese pecan frosting (see below)

In a medium-sized mixing bowl, beat the egg whites until they form stiff peaks. Set aside. (I do this part first so that I don’t have to wash the beaters more than once.)

In a large mixing bowl (and with your egg white-y beaters), cream the butter with the sugar. Add the vanilla and egg yolks and beat some more. Add the dry ingredients (the flour and baking soda) alternately with the buttermilk. Stir in the coconut. Fold in the egg whites.

Divide the batter between three eight-inch cake pans (well-greased and lined with wax paper). Bake the cakes at 350 degrees for 25-30 minutes. Turn the cakes out onto a wire rack and remove the wax paper. Cool completely before icing.

Cream Cheese Pecan Frosting

Thanks to the nuts, this icing is a cinch to spread; you needn’t worry about bits of cake and coconut flecking the creamy icing since it is already pebbled with the golden crunchy pecans. And the textured icing lends itself to artful swirls and swoops.

1 cup chopped pecans, toasted
1 8-ounce package cream cheese
½ cup butter
16 ounces powdered sugar, sifted
1 tablespoon vanilla

Beat together the cream cheese and butter. Add the vanilla and beat some more. Beat in the sugar. Add the pecans and mix well.

*Which is not totally true because there were a few scraps left on certain children’s plates that ended up getting dumped into the compost bucket. I did contemplate eating the abandoned morsels but decided that I needed to exercise some control.

About One Year Ago: The Stash, a list (and pictures) of all the food we stockpiled. Seeing all our hard labor consolidated into one list is deeply satisfying…and totally exhausting, even to me.

Apple season is here and I’ve been searching for the perfect apple cake. I didn’t want a cake that was vaguely reminiscent of apple—I wanted a cake that was chock-full of the tart chunks of fruit, well-spiced and wholesome.

I looked at a handful of recipes and made a couple flops (of one of the duds, Yo-Yo said, This cake doesn’t have any flavor; it’s just stuff against your tongue), and then I spied a recipe for apple cake in our local paper. The recipe itself didn’t strike me as being a winner, but after studying it for a bit, I realized that it provided the perfect groundwork for some culinary imagination.

So I commenced to imagining and measuring, tweaking and stirring, hoping and waiting (and washing up the dirty dishes). Just so you can fully appreciate my culinary genius (ha!): I subbed half of the white flour for whole wheat, cut the sugar in half and switched to brown, doubled the apples, dialed back the nutmeg, glugged in some blackstrap, and tossed in the yogurt, ginger, and wheat germ. It was fun.

Then, finally, I tasted. And what do you know? I got what I was looking for!

Moral of the tale? It pays to have an imagination.

Apple Cake
Wildly adapted from The Amish Cook

This cake is a humble affair, nubbly, nutty, and nutritious, but a dollop of whipped cream dresses it up just enough to make it presentable for company. I dimpled the top of the cake with a slurry of melted butter and brown sugar, but it wasn’t necessary (though it did add a sweet goo factor) so I didn’t include that part in the instructions.

It’s muffins you’re wanting? Then spoon the batter into muffin tins and sprinkle with a crumb topping of your choosing.

1 cup flour
1 cup whole wheat flour
1 cup brown sugar, packed
2 tablespoons raw wheat germ
1 ½ teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
1 teaspoon cinnamon
½ teaspoon nutmeg
2 tablespoons minced candied ginger
½ cup canola oil
½ cup plain yogurt
2 eggs
2 tablespoons blackstrap molasses
1 teaspoon vanilla
4 cups chopped tart apples (cored and peeled)
½ cup chopped walnuts
½ cup golden raisins

In a large bowl, stir together the first nine ingredients (through the candied ginger). In another bowl stir together the oil, yogurt, eggs, molasses, and vanilla. Add the wets to the dries and mix gently. Add the apples, walnuts, and raisins and stir to incorporate.

Pour the batter into a greased 9 x 13 pan (use a rubber spatula to spread it evenly) and bake the cake at 350 degrees for 30-40 minutes. Cool to room temperature.

Serve with billows of whipped cream.

About One Year Ago: Another fall cake, Pumpkin Cake with Cream Cheese Frosting.

A couple weeks ago when we were sick, going through a hard time, or getting back from a trip—I can’t remember which—my brother’s family brought us supper and ate it with us. The meal consisted of green beans fresh from the garden, coleslaw, sweet onion corn bake, and chocolate cake with strawberry sauce. Of all that delicious food, I was most excited over the corn bake. I couldn’t quite tell what it was. Cornbread? Creamed onions? Baked corn? It was all those things but in one dish, the flavors and textures perfectly melded into a new concoction. I demanded the recipe.

I made the corn bake two different times with drastic alterations. My goal was to figure out how to make it without using the called-for Jiffy Cornbread Mix and can of creamed corn while still tasting as delicious as what my sis made for us.

The third time around I made it for a Sunday potluck. We were getting kind of sick of eating pans of not-quite-perfect corn bake, and the kids didn’t really like it anyway, so I figured I would make it one last time, take it to the potluck, and then be done with the whole thing (for the present; not forever). Except that at the potluck it all got eaten before I even got through the line.

I felt like crying, and I did do a little dramatic whimpering, but then I sucked it up and made it for the fourth time.

Here you go. I hope you appreciate my efforts. (And even if you don’t, I do because from now on I will be able to make this corn bake whenever I want to, no experimentation necessary.)

Sweet Onion Corn Bake
The original recipe is quite different from what I make, so I’m calling the recipe My Own Creation, though the recipe can be traced from my sister-in-law, and from her to my mother, and from my mother to I have no clue who.

The recipe called for Vidalia onions, hence the reason it is called a “sweet onion” bake. I use regular onions, and I think any kind would be just fine, though Vidalia onions will make the final product a bit sweeter, I guess. (Not that the dish needs to be any sweeter. I think caramelized onions of any ilk are totally sweet.)

It is very important to fully bake this casserole—if it is at all under-baked, the center tastes “wet.” If your oven tends to burn things, it might be wise to reduce the oven temperature to 325 degrees after the first twenty minutes of baking time and keep the casserole in the oven longer.

2 giant onions, or 3 large
3 tablespoons butter
1 cup sour cream
½ cup fresh parsley, chopped
1 cup grated sharp cheddar cheese
1/3 cup milk
½ cup yellow cornmeal
½ cup flour
2 tablespoons sugar
3/4 teaspoon salt, divided
2 teaspoons baking powder
2 tablespoons oil
1 egg, beaten
2 tablespoons canned green chilis (or 1/8 teaspoon cayenne pepper)
1 ½ cups corn, fresh, frozen, or canned
2 tablespoons heavy cream
½ cup, packed, grated Gruyère

For the sweet onion part:
Thinly slice the onions and then quarter the slices. Saute them in the 3 tablespoons butter until softened and translucent, about 15 minutes, taking care not to brown them. Set aside to cool.

In a medium-sized bowl, stir together the sour cream, cheddar cheese, 1/4 teaspoon salt, parsley, and milk. Add the cooled onions and stir well. Set aside.

For the cornbread part:
In a small bowl stir together the corn, chilis, and 2 tablespoons cream. Set aside.

In a medium-sized mixing bowl, stir together the cornmeal, flour, sugar, baking powder, and ½ teaspoon salt. Partially stir in the beaten egg and 2 tablespoons oil; the mixture will be very dry. Add the creamed corn; the mixture will no longer be very dry. Spread the corny cornbread in a greased 9 x 13 pan.

Top the cornbread with the sweet onion mixture and spread it with a spoon so that the cornbread layer is completely covered with the onion-cheese layer. Sprinkle the Gruyère over all.

Bake the casserole at 350 degrees for at least 45 minutes, and more like 60, if you can pull it off without burning the whole thing. When done, the casserole should be quite brown and very well set.

Serve warm.

About One Year Ago: Fort Construction. It’s still not done. Apparently that’s not the point.