tall, dark, and handsome cake with blackberry preserves [and an ethical 21st birthday]

I love sound. It's my favorite sense after taste, I think.

I love buzzing chatter. The nice kind, mind you, when you're at a coffee shop with your laptop in the midst of writing a paper for a class with the soft hum of people musing to one another over lattes and biscotti.

I love laughter. Even irritating, too-loud laughter that kind of makes you want to punch the person after too long, but knowing that they're happy is the only thing keeping you from doing it.

I love music. Listening to a favorite playlist while speed-walking through grounds on the way to class, too distracted by the lyrics to notice your friends trying to get your attention as you brush past them without sparing a glance.

Lately, I love wiring my laptop up to my speaker system and listening to soundtracks playing in the background as I bustle about the kitchen. For this particular baking endeavor, I alternated between James Vincent McMorrow and the gorgeous soundtrack to Midnight in Paris. It made for a soothing touch as I struggled fruitlessly to keep the layers from toppling over and getting chocolate frosting on absolutely every inch of counter space physically accessible.

It was real cute, let me tell you.

But in the end, Cole Porter kept me sane, and I was able to put together a rather homely-looking birthday cake for two wonderful friends.

Dark Chocolate and Raspberry Layer Cake with Chocolate Frosting 
Adapted from bella eats and Healthy. Happy. Life.
Yields one 3-layer, 8-inch cake.

For the cake, you'll need:

• 3 oz semisweet chocolate
• 1 1/2 cups hot, brewed coffee
• 3 cups sugar
• 2 1/2 cups AP flour
• 1 1/2 cups unsweetened cocoa powder
• 2 tsp baking soda
• 3/4 tsp baking powder
• 1 1/4 tsp salt
• 3 large eggs
• 3/4 cup vegetable oil
• 1 1/2 cups buttermilk [for dairy free, substitute 1 1/2 cups soy milk plus 1 tbsp cider vinegar, well mixed and set aside ~5 mins to curdle]
• 3/4 tsp vanilla
• your choice preserves, for layers [raspberry, blackberry, or strawberry work best]

For chocolate buttercream, you'll need:

• 2/3 cup [1 1/2 sticks, 12 tbsp, 6 oz] butter
• 2/3 cup melted chocolate
• 4-6 tbsp soy milk
• 2 tsp vanilla
• 4 cups confectioner's sugar

To prepare the cake:

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and grease and flour three 8-inch cake pans. Line bottom of the pans with wax paper and grease.

In a small heat-proof bowl, combine chocolate chips and hot coffee, stirring until the mixture is smooth. In a large bowl, sift flour, sugar, cocoa powder, baking soda, baking powder, and salt. Set both aside.

In another large bowl, beat eggs on medium-high speed until thickened and lemon in color, about 3 minutes. Slowly add oil, buttermilk, vanilla, and melted chocolate mixture. Beat until fully incorporated. Lower speed and gradually add flour mixture, beating until batter is just combined. 

Divide batter among the pans and bake for 45-50 minutes, until a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Cool layers in their pans on a cooling rack. Once cooled, run a knife along the edges of the pans and invert the cakes onto the cooling rack. Slowly peel away wax paper and let layers cool completely.

To prepare the frosting:

On medium-high speed, cream the butter until light and fluffy, about 3 mins. Add melted chocolate and vanilla and beat. Lower mixer speed to low and slowly add in confectioner's sugar, scraping down the sides of the bowl as necessary. Once sugar is added, increase mixer speed to medium. Pour in soy milk until the mixture has the preferred consistency - this will vary, and may need less than 4 tbsp or more than 6 depending on your preference. Beat frosting until light. Refrigerate until using.

To assemble the cake:

Place one of the cake layers on a serving plate. Spread a generous amount of raspberry preserves [I do about 2/3 cup worth] on top of the layer. Frost the top of the preserves with a bit of the frosting. Place second layer on top and repeat. Place third layer on top and use the remaining frosting to frost the top and sides of the cake. Refrigerate until serving.

Chelsea and Roods celebrated a joint birthday dinner last night, for which I happily offered to bake the cake. I wanted something quite different from last year's coconut layer cake with lemon curd filling, and so opted for chocolate. Ethical, and chocolate. The thought was a bit daunting, which obviously meant I was going to take up the challenge.

In actuality, the cake was a breeze to make even with the restriction to ethical ingredients. Chelsea provided me with her preferred eggs and butter, and soy milk took care of the rest. In the end, it didn't taste any different from what one would expect from a chocolate cake with chocolate frosting.

And, ethical fun fact: Ghirardelli's semisweet chocolate chips [you know, the ones they sell next to the Nestle for an extra 60 cents or what have you] are made with soy lecithin. I just love happy coincidences.

I went with blackberries for this one, as I love the earthy tartness of blackberries against the bitter chocolate. A bit more sophisticated than raspberry, which was quite fitting for a classy little dessert and cocktail/mocktail night. Chelsea even made the world's most adorable [vegan] margarita cupcakes for the occasion. It was all rather precious.

So, in the end, it was two hours spent with cake, cupcakes, and drinks. All the while with a lovely backdrop of chatter, laughter, and music.

Because, really, what more do you need for a good night?

Happy 21st birthdays, my darlings Chelsea and Rudhdi. I hope this next year is filled with pleasant sounds, piquant tastes, and lots of happy memories. Love always.

lemon, blackberry, and ginger cake [and a happy 21st]

Wednesday evening was spent attempting to familiarize myself with absolutist and utilitarian philosophy, emailing professors about tentative spring courses [oh yes, I'm a dork, and unbelievably excited about class offerings], rubbing my eyes and consequently smudging all the eyeliner around to give me the appearance of a lopsided raccoon, and putting away clean dishes without having realized the smudgy state of my fingers and consequently getting black stains all over the bowls and having to rewash them.

[As a side note, I've discovered that all of my current obsessions are manifested in some of the cookbooks that I own. King Arthur Flour Cookbook (purchased 2009), The Unofficial Harry Potter Cookbook (purchased approximately January 2011), Dining with Sherlock Holmes: A Baker Street Cookbook (purchased approximately 1 week ago [not a problem]). The amount that I was ecstatic when I made the realization was unprecedented and startling.]

And yet, it was a rather perfect evening, as soon after rewashing dishes, the house was filled with the smells of ginger and lemon zest, and the sounds of unbelievably irritating whistles at a conference meeting during an episode of Arrested Development.

As a note of self-preservation, all shots taken for this particular dessert were done in the absolute worst lighting imaginable. It seems that cloudy mornings and artificial, dinner-table lighting made for oddly colored images. Blast lamplight and clouded sun rays.

It was nice, though, to be baking a cake. I haven't done so in ages, as I haven't had the need, but yesterday happened to be the 21st birthday of one of my dearest, closest, sweetest friends: Matt (and, incidentally, Rhea's as well!). I knew I would be baking something, but I wanted it to be something spectacular. Something new. Something exotic.

And so I asked him what he'd want.

And all he said was "lemon curd."

And that was all I needed.


[Admittedly, he also said "blackberries, preferably," but I'll keep that little tidbit to myself as not to diminish the above drama.]

I have quite some experience with lemon curd, as it's a foolproof way of making a fantastic cake, but for the most part it's always accompanied either a basic vanilla or angel food cake. Seeing as how it's fall and it's Matt, I wanted to try something unexpected.

So, clearly, the fates were calling on me to bake a lemon-ginger cake, layered with blackberry preserves and lemon curd, covered with a lemon-cream cheese frosting.

And you know what, the fates did good this week.

Lemon, Blackberry, and Ginger Cake
Adapted from epicurious and my own tastes.

For the cake, you'll need:

• 2 cups of sugar
• 1 1/2 sticks butter, at room temperature
• 4 eggs
• 3 tbsp lemon juice
• 1 tsp lemon zest
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 3 cups cake flour
• 1 tbsp ground ginger
• 1 tsp cinnamon
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1 1/2 cups buttermilk

For the lemon cream cheese frosting, you'll need:

• 12 oz cream cheese, at room temperature
• 2 sticks butter, at room temperature
• 1/4 cup lemon juice
• 2 tsp lemon zest
• 1 tsp vanilla
• 4 cups powdered sugar, sifted

• blackberry or other fruit preserves, to layer
• lemon curd, to layer

To prepare the cake:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and line and grease three 9-inch cake pans. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the paddle attachment, beat sugar and butter on medium speed until light and fluffy. Add eggs, one at a time, followed by lemon juice, lemon zest, and vanilla. In a separate bowl, sift flour, ginger, cinnamon, baking powder, baking soda, and salt. Add flour mixture into the wet ingredients, alternating with the buttermilk, in three batches, beginning and ending with the flour. Divide the batter evenly among the three pans. Bake for 30-35 minutes, until set. Turn cakes out onto cooling racks and cool to room temperature before assembling.


To prepare the frosting:
In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with paddle attachment, beat cream cheese and butter on medium speed until smooth, 3-4 minutes. Add in lemon juice, zest, and vanilla. Lower speed and gradually add in powdered sugar. Increase speed to medium-high and beat until fluffy, at least 5 minutes. Refrigerate frosting until using.

[Note: frosting can be prepared  a day in advance.]


To assemble the cake:
Place on of the cake layers on a serving plate. Spread a thin layer of the cream cheese frosting over the top as a crumb coating. Spread about 3 tbsp of fruit preserves over the crumb coating, about 1/2 inch from the edges of the cake. Spread about 4 tbsp of lemon curd over the preserves, about 1/2 inch from the edges of the cake. Repeat with the second and third layers. Frost the top and sides of the cake with the rest of the cream cheese frosting. Refrigerate cake until serving, but allow cake to sit for 15-20 minutes before cutting.

Delicious is the only word that comes to mind. I also have a limited vocabulary. But really. The ginger is very understated, but enough to make you realize that there's something more to the cake than what you'd get from a simple vanilla. Which is exactly what I was hoping for.

And then, you can never go wrong with lemon curd.

Like, ever.

So, happy 21st birthday, MattMatt and Rhea! I do hope it was all to your liking :)

In other news, today I find myself settled quite cozily in a little corner of Panera, laptop on the table, empty cappuccino mug to my right, and a stack of Greek mythology and philosophy texts on my lap. All of this is hugely unsurprising, as this is seems to be my default state of existence, but I'm somewhat unnerved at how much colder it is inside this place than it is outside. Unnerved and also slightly uncomfortable. Particularly since it's pretty chilly outside as it is.

But I finally managed to find an empty socket for my laptop cord, so there's no way in hell that I am leaving.

Besides, I like the padded booths.

Even if it means having my scarf wrapped twice around my neck and my sleeves pulled down to my fingertips.

Maybe it's time for a second [third] cup of coffee...


I love autumn.

blackberry flaugnarde

Leaving stains upon the tongue and lust for
Picking. Then red ones inked up and that hunger
Sent us out with milk cans, pea tins, jam-pots
Where briars scratched and wet grass bleached our boots.

-Seamus Heaney

I rarely dream. It's none too surprising, given that most of the time I can't seem to sleep long enough to dream.

[Insomnia is a cruel mistress, though one that has led to me bookmarking quite a number of recipes I hope to try in future, since clearly I have little else to do at 2am than skim through cookbooks when my mind refuses shut off.]

But sometimes when I do dream, they're recollections. Of course, I'll have the odd one where I'm a wolf sprinting through the Mines of Moria and end up at the Sultan's palace kickin' it with Aladdin [true story], but occasionally I'll wake up with flashes of memories playing before my eyes, with my mind trying desperately to reach out for them before they dissolve.

Walking along the beaches in Sicily. Sitting under the jasmine tree in my grandmother's front yard with a book in hand. Weaving in between the Douro Valley with the vineyards and river waltzing past. Having a conversation with an old friend, perched on armchairs in half-lit rooms with mugs of coffee and knit blankets, residual ache of nostalgia when I wake up.

During the academic year, I don't dream at all. I also sleep far less then than I manage now, so it's unsurprising. But here at the apartment, with nothing but the quiet sounds of cars driving in and out of the complex and peaceful hum of the ceiling fan at night, I've found myself dreaming more than usual. I don't mind it, but it only leads to endless musings.

[Though, since I'm back to working full-time, I welcome the musings. They break up the monotony of quality assurance checking and keep my mind away from pining for food.]

As of late, the musings have been of summertime. Aside from the heat, I adore summer. Italian countrysides, Portuguese rivers, Spanish beaches, Pakistani rooftops under summer stars. Farmer's Markets, peach-picking, sunbathing, napping. Long days, lazy mornings, afternoon rainstorms, warm nights.

It's rejuvenating in the best way imaginable.

With the start of August came the start of Ramadan, one of my favorite times of the year. Not that I particularly enjoy the fasting aspect of it [it's mainly the thirst that's uncomfortable], but then again, the point really isn't to enjoy it. Rather, it's incredibly spiritually energizing. I love it. I feel peaceful. Content. Like there's no reason to worry about trivialities.

But even aside from Ramadan, I love this time of year because summer's coming to an end. I'm sad to see the season go, of course, and definitely not in the right mindset at all to start reading David Hume and Spanish literature, but from a gastronomic perspective, it's beautiful.


Peaches in all their rosy hue lining the stalls at the Saturday market, bright summer squashes springing up like daisies, scarlet tomatoes glistening in the sunshine, berries waiting to be blended with yogurt and honey for smoothies, crisp apples beginning to make their appearances in orchards, the scents of oregano, parsley, and tarragon wafting through market aisles and carrying with them countless menus for summer dinners.

Quite suitably, I purchased some blackberries this weekend. Though, since they were purchased along with strawberries, blueberries, apples, and plums, and since I am, in fact, the only one making use of the fridge, I may have overestimated my ability to eat all of this fruit prior to their going-off. But I hate seeing seasonal produce go to waste cannot, in any right state of mind, allow seasonal produce to go to waste, and so I decided to bake. [Duh.]

Blackberry Flaugnarde 
A bakedbeen original

You'll need:

• 1 cup fresh blackberries
• 3 eggs
• 2 tsp vanilla
• pinch of salt
• 2 tbsp agave
• 1/3 cup almond flour 
• 1/2 cup milk
• 1/2 cup heavy cream

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and butter and flour a 9-inch glass baking dish.

In a medium-sized bowl, whisk the eggs. Add in vanilla, salt, and agave and whisk until blended. Add in the flour and incorporate. Finally, add in the milk and heavy cream and mix thoroughly.

Pour about 1/2 cup of the egg mixture into the prepared dish. Place the blackberries evenly across the base of the dish. Pour the remaining filling slowly on top of the berries. Bake for 40-45 minutes, until the custard is set. Let cool 10-15 minutes. Sprinkle confectioner's sugar over top the flaugnarde. Serve warm, with a dollop of sweetened cream or vanilla ice cream if desired.

Blackberry flaugnarde. A pretty, delicate, French dessert, on the cusp of being a flan. Flaugnardes are basically clafoutis, though clafoutis are exclusively made with cherries [hence the alternate name]. Semantics aside, flaugnardes are baked custards, eaten warm and absolutely brilliant on solitary summer evenings when berries are in season and there's little else to do besides watch episodes of No Reservations and Doctor Who. The dessert is divine, beautiful in its presentation and charming in its simplicity. I think a peach and cinnamon flaugnarde would be lovely, as well; perhaps something to try later this season.

I had to remind myself, constantly, not to nibble at it while it was in the process of being made, since there was still daylight out and I was still fasting. Definitely the biggest challenge of this Ramadan so far.

And I'm sure once this over, I'll be dreaming about it. Perhaps the nostalgia will have me baking it again quite soon.

As for the rest of the weekend, I'm thinking about paying a visit to the orchard nearby, pick up some more peaches and see if any apples have decided to pop in yet. And after that... perhaps a very long nap.

Yes. Definitely a very long nap.

In other news, earlier this week I discovered that the second season of Sherlock has been pushed back, from this autumn, to May 2012. This can only mean two things:

1. I am most certainly going to fail my spring finals, and
2. I may actually expire from broken heart before then.

Really, though, there are only so many reruns of a three-episode series I can watch before my heart pines for more. [Needless to say, this already happened after about the fourth rewatch, a few weeks ago.]

Mark Gatiss and Steven Moffat, what are you doing to me?!