• Simple cake

    I’m in New York, surrounded by people and parties, and all I can think of is telling you about this cake I made last week.


    Okay, so it’s not all I’m thinking about, but it’s there, this little remembrance of cake that keeps pushing on my brain, taking up mental energy. I’ve been wanting to write about it, but I just haven’t, and then last night I downloaded my pictures and was reminded once again about the beauty of this cake and the need to talk about it became even more pressing.

    So now it’s a little after seven in the morning, and I’m sitting at the dining room table, my cup of coffee by my side. The Grand Matriarch is putting away dishes, someone is in the shower, and I hear a little voice (my niece? my daughter?) quietly humming. It’s time to talk about cake.


    (Oh, wait. The Grand Matriarch just came out of her bedroom, so it must be one of my nieces clattering about in the kitchen….No, I’m still wrong: it’s The Grand Patriarch, and hey!, it’s his birthday—he shouldn’t be doing dishes… But I digress. I’m here to talk about cake, not dishes.)

    This homely little cake delights me to no end. There is nothing spectacular about it, and to all appearances it is downright dowdy. But do not be deceived! This cake is sweet and moist and simple, so very, very simple.


    In fact, it reminds me of torta simple, the plain cake that could be found, when we lived in Nicaragua, in any little old venta and was most often consumed alongside a cup of watery, syrupy-sweet coffee. Their version of the cake is dry and mildly sweet (nothing that any of us would be a fan of, I suspect) and when I was crafting a recipe for torta simple so that I could teach it to the community women (they were accustomed to baking with ground corn, not flour), I used a simple shortcake recipe for my springboard. That recipe became their second favorite—banana cake being the first.

    This honey-whole wheat cake is the stateside version (ie. richer in cost and taste) of torta simple—a bit sweeter, more moist, and with honey, something that we didn’t have in Nicaragua.

    To be honest, I am not a big fan of honey; however, I hate it when a recipe touts a particular ingredient—say sour cream or brown sugar or buttermilk—but you can’t really taste the star ingredient in the final product. In this case, the cake is worthy of its title; the honey stands out in a pleasant, homey way (and I like it!), and the whole wheat gives the cake a slightly nubbly texture without any hint of dryness. The final product is a multi-functional cake—it goes well with coffee or tea, with fruit and whipped cream, or plain, all by itself. It’s that simple.


    Honey-Whole Wheat Cake
    Slightly adapted from Joy the Baker.

    Joy called this cake a pound cake, but since I’m of the persuasion that it’s only a pound cake if the recipe uses a pound of butter, pound of eggs, and a pound each of flour and sugar (I’m old-school like that), I was forced to drop that part of the title.

    I contemplated substituting part white flour for the whole wheat, but then I didn’t, and I was so glad—the cake is plenty light even with one hundred percent whole wheat, just be sure to use whole wheat pastry flour.

    Joy’s recipe called for buttermilk, but I didn’t have any on hand (or at least in an accessible part of my over-stuffed freezer), so I used a mixture of plain yogurt and milk. A soured milk (put 1-2 tablespoons of vinegar in the bottom of a one-cup measure and then fill it up the rest of the way with milk) would be fine, too, I’m sure.

    2 1/4 cup whole wheat pastry flour
    2 teaspoons baking powder
    3/4 teaspoon salt
    1 ½ sticks (12 tablespoons) butter
    1 cup sugar
    ½ cup honey
    2 teaspoons vanilla
    3 eggs
    1 cup sour milk (or buttermilk or ½ cup plain yogurt mixed with ½ cup milk)

    Measure the flour, baking powder, and salt into a small bowl, stir gently, and set aside.

    Cream together the butter, sugar, and honey. Add the eggs and vanilla and beat some more.

    Add the dry ingredients alternately with the sour milk. Do not over-mix.

    Pour the batter into a greased 9 or 10-inch springform pan (or muffin tins or loaf pans or whatever you like). Bake the cake at 350 degrees for 50-60 minutes.

    About One Year Ago: Whaddaya know, it’s another kind of cake, Blueberry Coffee Cake.

  • Dreaming

    This past weekend we had our church retreat, and since it was the anniversary of MLK’s I Have A Dream speech, the theme was dreams. In one session we were told to take five minutes and make a list of thirty things we dreamed for. Here’s my off-the-cuff list, slightly edited and enhanced.

    I have a dream of…
    1. Being an actress
    2. Effective help with mental illnesses
    3. Baking bread in an outdoor oven, my outdoor oven
    4. Having twins (not possible anymore, but I still sometimes fantasize about it in my less lucid moments)
    5. Raising children who are kind, respectful, and good listeners
    6. Experiencing church without the church behavior (ie, the pantyhose and headache cocktail)—actually, I don’t wear pantyhose or get a headache, but you get the point
    7. A clear memory
    8. Time to write
    9. Having more patience
    10. Being more open-minded
    11. Having the ability to understand the other side of situations
    12. Finding a balance and maintaining it
    13. Everybody in the world cleaning toilets, eating homegrown tomatoes, and having a good night’s sleep
    14. My children developing lasting, deep friendships
    15. Conversations that are less superficial and more real
    16. Writing for publication
    17. Learning to make cuajada (a salty Nicaraguan cheese that lots of people hate and I happen to love)
    18. Our family traveling to Central America for a full month
    19. A paid vacation for Mr. Handsome
    20. A shop for Mr. Handsome
    21. Houseplants that look nice
    22. Everything in my home being fixed and in working order
    23. A fence for our field so that we can have steers and a horse
    24. That people (me included) learn to value ordinary work without feeling like they have to go somewhere to do good
    25. People understanding that homeschooling means learning at home, not school at home
    26. A mother’s helper
    27. Learning to bake real artisan bread
    28. Speaking coherently
    29. Having a fabulous wardrobe and looking sexy in everything I wear
    30. Learning about photography

    So there you have it, my train-of-thought wish list. What do you dream about? Take five minutes and tell me, please—I’d love to know.

    About One Year Ago: On Our Way, Smartly. And some other stuff that I wrote about one year and one week ago: High-End Pesto and Pasta with Sauteed Peppers and Onions and Losing My Marbles.

  • Earthy ponderations: part three

    I bet you thought I forgot that I said there were three parts, huh? You thought I was so wrapped up in maters that I forgot to finish pondering the earthy matters (part one and part two). Ha! Think again! What do you think I do while I chop and mince and blanch? I’ve got to do something with my brain to lift it out of the juicy mire. So, here we go…

    Mom is still doing the talking. She has the ability to hold forth, let me tell you (or maybe you already noticed)—and just for the record, her father was a preacher. (I think that’s relevant.)

    ***

    Mom: Overwhelmingly so, with or without technology’s strides, vacationing happens at nature’s expense, not to mention the less arcane costs. The ad for the hybrid SUV, picturing a shadowy, moss-carpeted forest and smugly tooting, “Finally, a vehicle that can take you to the very places you’re helping to preserve,” is really promising that for the $60,000 sticker price, wow-ee, you can get there without having to fold your legs into pretzels, and in addition, you’ll be conscientiously stomping down the lichens and sedge. Gas-hog transported somewhere or not, either way, on a grander or lesser scale, we’re invading.

    … Is the family sustaining anything beyond their bellies, by staying planted at home in the growing months, entrenched up to their ankles in their own blood and sweat and tears?

    I have no scientific answer for that! Just, sweet and simple, in defense of dirt:

    Number one, Hounding after nature a la vacationer style is probably a sham. Er, scam. Whatever.

    Number two, Furthermore, fleeing doesn’t get the flee-er anywhere.

    Number three, As compared to deifying nature, worshiping it to its ruin, loving nature means humbling ourselves in labor, even getting down on all fours. Tending the garden, mud squishing up between our toes, we can only laugh at ourselves—or cry.

    Me: Sustainability is more than us doing something. It’s about listening. We spend so much time trying to conquer nature—shipping our processed food from all over the world, using absurd amounts of electricity so we can stay up way late and sleep way late, pouring concrete wherever we might venture so as not to soil our shoes, building fancy, gas-guzzling contraptions that allow us to trot the globe on a whim, keeping our homes’ temperatures so even that we never break a sweat or shiver—that we miss out on some valuable lessons in patience and grit, not to mention some built in respites for sanity’s sake.

    That’s why working with our food supply, doing the gardening and cooking ourselves, is about the most down-to-earth a person can get. In this one small way we are forced to abide by the natural elements, heading the ebb and flow of the seasons, respecting the differences between night and day. We can’t go scampering off to visit far-away relatives when the beans are in season. The food can’t be put on hold; you have to act now.

    ***

    Well, except for the fact that I am compiling this series of Earthy Ponderations while I am hiding out at Panera Bread (after going shopping for clothes, of all things), ignoring the tomatoes, nectarines, and apples that were waiting to be turned into sauce, salsa, jams, and dried snacky foods. So see, I guess I have the same elitist attitude as everyone else, trying to get the upper hand, not wanting to kow-tow to nature’s demands.

    But right now, at this very moment—7:43 on Tuesday, August 18, 2009—I’ll take any excuse I can get: I’m tired. Let me fool myself a bit longer.

    About One Year Ago: How to make butter.