The evening Molly posted this recipe for applesauce cake, I had to talk myself out of starting a baking project at bedtime.

I’m not exactly sure why I was so completely smitten. I already have an applesauce cake on this blog. Plus, applesauce cake isn’t the most thrilling-sounding recipe. It reminds me more of a practical-scuffed-up-shoes cake than a flashy-fancy-heels cake, and I’ve always had this (perhaps unfounded) assumption that cake ought always be a flashy heels sort of venture. But this recipe disregarded my uptight notions, wiggled into my brain with an upturned kettle and a wooden spoon, and started pounding away on the kettle while screeching, Make me! Make me!

By the next morning, my intense desire for applesauce cake RIGHT NOW had not waned in the least, so I made it. I had a piece with my coffee after lunch. I thought it delicious, but my husband was all like, Yeah it’s fine. It doesn’t taste like much, though. I decided he was being obtuse and that his opinion didn’t count.

About an hour later, I covered the cake with plastic wrap and drove over to my parents’ house where they were (again) in the midst of hosting out-of-town guests that I, too (again), wanted to visit. When I arrived, everyone was still gathered around the table. My mother placed the cake on the table beside the partially-eaten lemon poppy seed cake, and set about brewing another pot of coffee.

“There’s a secret ingredient in this cake,” I said. “See if you can guess.”

Out of curiosity and politeness (because it certainly wasn’t hunger), they all helped themselves to small slivers. Some of them started guessing ingredients before they even tasted the cake. I forget who guessed black pepper, but winning ended up being kind of underwhelming. The exotic bite from the pepper is so gentle that it went unnoticed by some.

But the icing, now. That’s what got their attention. Soon they were all reaching for the knife to cut another slice. And then the coffee was ready and of course you must have another slice to go with your coffee…

By the time I was ready to leave, there was just a small piece of cake left on the plate. Back home, I divided it among the kids. Less than six hours after I had first cut into it, the cake was gone, gone, gone.

I made the cake again, just the other day. This time I swapped half of the white flour for whole wheat, and I used a heavy hand when grinding in the pepper. Right after I pulled the cake from the oven, we had to leave for a church supper, so I didn’t get around to making the icing. And then later that night, after we tucked the kids into bed, I didn’t feel like making the icing. Anyway, it was the soft, spicy cake that was calling my name. Turns out, I loved the cake plain.

The next morning I served it for breakfast along with oatmeal and fresh fruit. My husband packed some in his lunch (he reported it was good and was surprised to learn it was the same cake as the first one he didn’t like!), and that afternoon I doled out the remaining pieces to the children for their snack. Wouldn’t you know, less than 24 hours after making the cake, it was gone. Funny how that happens.
 

Spiced Applesauce Cake with Caramel Glaze
Adapted from Molly Wizenberg’s blog Orangette.

The glaze is similar to this brown sugar icing, but this version has less butter and brown sugar, and more cream. It is really good.

for the cake:
2 eggs
1 cup sugar
½ cup dark brown sugar
2/3 cup oil
1½ cups applesauce
1 teaspoon vanilla
1 cup flour
1 cup whole wheat pastry flour
1½ teaspoons baking soda
1 teaspoon salt
2 teaspoons cinnamon
1 teaspoon ginger
¼ teaspoon nutmeg
¼ ample teaspoon freshly ground black pepper

Beat together the eggs and sugars. Beat in the oil, applesauce, and vanilla.

In a separate bowl, mix together the dry ingredients. Add the dry ingredients to the wet ingredients and stir to combine.

Pour the cake batter into a greased baking pan. (Molly used a bundt pan or loaf pans; I used a springform pan, greased and lined with parchment paper.) Bake at 350 degrees for 40-45 minutes or until the cake is pulling away from the sides of the pan and a toothpick inserted in the middle comes out clean. Cool to room temperature. (If turning the cake out of its pan, allow it to cool for just ten minutes before doing so.)

for the glaze:
4 tablespoons butter
½ cup brown sugar
1/3 cup cream
¼ teaspoon salt
¾ cup confectioner’s sugar

Combine all the ingredients but the confectioner’s sugar in a pan and set over medium high heat. Bring it to a boil, stirring constantly, and let it boil for one minute. Remove from the heat and stir in the confectioner’s sugar. Let it rest for a few minutes to thicken before pouring over the cooled cake.

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (11.17.14), in my kitchen: noon, lessons from a shopping trip, the quotidian (11.18.13), the quotidian (11.18.12), red lentil soup with lemon and spinach, three things, orange cranberry bread, Swiss chard and sweet potato gratin, and brownies.

This same time, years previous: I will never be good at sales, gravity, refrigerator bran muffins, sparkle blondies, the wiggles, official, why I’m glad we don’t have guns in our house, the quotidian (11.16.11), my apple line-up, chicken salad, so far so good, Chinese cabbage and apple salad, and SSR.      

In the morning after I fix my coffee, locate my reading glasses, and snatch a piece of scrap paper out of the desk drawer, I write up a to-do list for all of us. Each child has chores, plus academics. List-making is the only way I can stay on the ball and keep everyone on task. Otherwise, a child might wander off and, without her in my line of vision, I may forget that, oh yes, I wanted her to empty the compost, write an essay, and wash the eggs. So I put all my ideas and goals on paper, first thing in the morning.

Lunch was late today because everyone was on a roll. My older son was practicing his choir music in his room. My older daughter was rewriting an essay we had just edited together. My younger daughter was doing some self-initiated letter writing. My younger son was in the downstairs room listening to a recording of Story of the World while jumping around and waving a wooden stake. While I waited for them to wrap it up, I pulled leftovers from the fridge and began reheating them: broccoli soup, chili, chicken and rice, and, for me, George Washington Carver soup.

I first had this soup at my mother’s house. We had stopped by one evening to say hi to their out-of-town guests (and maybe to pick up some of our children? I can’t remember now). When we arrived, they were just sitting down to their dinner of Carver soup, onion-corn bake, sauteed greens, and cake (I think). We pulled up chairs, intending to visit for a bit before heading back home. Mom, of course, invited us to eat, too, but we said no. However, she was insistent that I taste the soup. Fine, I said, and watched as she ladled a small scoop into a bowl, plopped a dollop of sour cream in the center, and sprinkled chopped peanuts on top.

One bite and my eyes widened. Wow, I said.

“I know.” she whispered. “I think it may be the best soup I ever made.”

I finally got around to making the soup for myself just last week. The soup appears plain and dull, but it’s anything but. There’s so much going on: the sweet potatoes give it a creamy sweetness, the peanut butter adds richness, the fresh ginger and cayenne give it a bite, and the spices (cumin! coriander! cloves! cinnamon!) supply depth and complexity. It’s like a kaleidoscope for the taste buds. Enjoy!
 

George Washington Carver Sweet Potato Soup with Peanut Butter and Ginger 
Adapted from a recipe that my mother’s friend, Lois, found in a some flyer, magazine, or newspaper. 

I used about ¼ cup fresh ginger, and the ginger flavor did not overwhelm. Also, I substituted ground chipotle pepper in place of the cayenne, and, while I thought the spice was pleasant, one of the children thought it was too spicy: be discerning.

This soup freezes well. To save freezer space, my mother omits much of the liquid when making the soup, and then adds the liquid when she is reheating the soup.

½ cup peanut oil, divided
2 sweet potatoes (about 2 pounds), peeled and roughly chopped
2 carrots, peeled and roughly chopped
1 onion, roughly chopped
2 cloves garlic, minced
2 teaspoons (or more) fresh ginger, minced
2 teaspoons each ground cumin and ground coriander
½ teaspoon cinnamon
¼ teaspoon each ground cloves and chipotle powder (or cayenne)
½ cup roasted tomato sauce
8 cups chicken broth (or water)
½ cup creamy peanut butter
salt
condiments, optional but highly recommended: fresh cilantro, dry-roasted peanuts, and sour cream.

Toss the sweet potatoes, carrots, and onion with all but 2 tablespoons of the peanut oil. Spread the veggies on a sided baking sheet, sprinkle with plenty of salt, and roast at 375 degrees for 30 minutes, or until fork-tender. 

Heat the remaining 2 tablespoons of peanut oil in a large soup pot over medium-high heat. Add the garlic, ginger, and remaining spices and saute for half a minute. Stir in the tomato sauce, peanut butter, stock, and roasted veggies. Stir well and simmer for 15 minutes. Using an immersion stick blender (or a stand one), puree the soup. Taste to correct seasonings: you’ll probably need a fair bit of salt.

To serve, pour the soup into serving bowls and top with sour cream, fresh cilantro, and chopped dry-roasted peanuts.

This same time, years previous: the quotidian (11.10.14), butternut squash galette with caramelized onions and goat cheese, the quotidian (11.11.13), the quotidian (11.11.12), mashed sweet potatoes, a boy book, chicken and white bean chili, and peanut butter cream pie.