pineapple upside-down cake

"A mother is a person who, seeing there are only four pieces of pie for five people, promptly announces she never did care for pie."
-Tenneva Jordan

Mother's Day is always somewhat of a blur; I mean, spending the 2 weeks leading up to the weekend with nothing but caffeine running through one's veins and a mountain of books strewn across every flat surface in an attempt to teach oneself a semester's worth of financial math is enough to leave one feeling exhausted and irritable, let alone in the right state of my mind to remember such an event even happens.

But this year is this last year my grandmother will be spending with us here in the States, so mom wanted to make it special.

And, since she's my mum and all, I figured the least I could do was help a bit.

It was nothing terribly fancy; just a big brunch at our place with the four of us, and my aunt and uncle and cousins came by as well. Mom did the cooking - some [incredible] Pakistani food she knew my grandmother would enjoy - and I the baking and dessert - a few batches of buttermilk scones, shir berenj, and a simple, classic pineapple upside-down cake.

Nine people, ten dishes, and a small get-together to celebrate the women in our lives.

[Plus, a lovely way to get back some of the energy finals drained out of me.]

Pineapple Upside-Down Cake
Adapted from Thomas Keller's Ad Hoc at Home.

For the pan schmear, you'll need:

• 1 stick butter, at room temperature
• 1 1/2 tbsp honey
• 1 cup packed light brown sugar
• 1/2 tsp dark rum [substitute with rum extract if desired]
• vanilla extract 
• pinch of salt

For the cake, you'll need:

• 1 pineapple, chopped into equal-sized pieces [alternately, 1 can of pineapple rings will do]
• 1 1/3 cups cake flour
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 1 stick butter, at room temperature
• 1/2 cup plus 2 tbsp granulated sugar
• vanilla extract
• 2 eggs
• 1 tbsp plus 1 tsp milk

Preheat oven to 350F and grease and flour a 9-inch cake pan [not a springform pan].

To prepare the schmear:

Beat the butter, honey, brown sugar, rum, and vanilla on medium speed until smooth and well-blended. Spread 1/3-1/2 cup of the schmear over the bottom of the prepared cake pan, and sprinkle lightly with salt. (The remaining schmear can be refrigerated for up to 2 weeks or frozen up to 1 month).

Slice the pineapple (or drain from the can). Beginning at the perimeter of the pan, make an overlapping ring of pineapple slices with the curved side facing out. Make a second ring inside the first, overlapping the slices in the opposite direction. Work your way toward the center of the pan until bottom of the pan is covered. Set pan aside.

To prepare the cake:

Sift flour and baking powder and set aside. Beat butter and sugar and mix on low speed to combine, then medium speed for about 3 mins until light and fluffy. Mix in the vanilla. Add eggs, one at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl between additions. Beat in the milk. Add the flour mixture in three batches, betting until just combined.

Gently pour the batter into the pan and spread over the pineapple. Bake for 15 mins, rotate the pan for an even browning, and bake for another 20-25 mins. Cool the cake in the pan atop a cooling rack for 20-30 mins. Invert the cake on a serving platter and serve warm.

The recipe actually comes from Thomas Keller's wonderful Ad Hoc at Home, one of four cookbooks published in the spirit of The French Laundry. I've not yet had the opportunity to dine at TFL myself, but I've been a longtime fan of Mr. Keller and this particular cookbook [it is, needless to say, among the 80 sitting on the shelf]. I typically do not offer recipes that I've used directly from printed books, but this one has been floating about the web for a while now, so I felt it was alright to share with you.

Which is good news, to be sure, as the cake is wonderful. Light, soft, tangy, and deliciously buttery. The shmear is absolute perfection, and I much prefer it to the typical caramelization required in a pineapple upside-down cake.

I lack a 9-inch silicone pan and so went with a regular pan, and must include a word of caution: the shmear works better with the silicone. If you are going to be using a normal pan, be generous with buttering it up prior.

In any case, this one turned out just fine. But why pineapple upside-down cake? Well, easy.

Mum's favorite.

I'm now back at the apartment, having left the 'rents behind earlier this afternoon in order to get a bit of work-time in this week, and am very much enjoying the quiet. It'll be a slow week, particularly since I'm here by myself for the time being, but one that I plan on spending with a few good books and a few good meals.

Although, I'm not sure any will match up to mum's quality of cooking, but I've got tons of time still for her to teach me. And maybe next year, I'll be the one cooking for Mother's Day.

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-blueberry layer cake [with a side of sugar coma]

The benefit of living in a city that seems to have totally forgotten that winter is a season, is that it allows one to stroll downtown with old friends on a January afternoon with nothing but a jacket and good conversation for warmth. When that group of friends is comprised of wonderful people you've known for over a decade, it almost feels like summertime.

I can't actually believe that I've known these people as long as I have. These 'people', of course, meaning Nitya, Hannah, Noosh, Georgia, Matt, and Tommy. Elementary school friends. Fourth grade. All of us weren't particularly close back then, and I don't think any of us would have imagined that an odd-13 years later we would still be in touch, let alone driving down to visit one another for belated birthday parties, shopping trips, and coffee dates. It's amazing, really, when I think about it.


Much of my childhood was spent moving from place to place. I was born out of the country and my parents moved to the States when I was two. I grew up in the north; random cities in New York from apartments to townhouses while my parents scraped together enough money for a new life in a country very different from their own. It was a learning experience for them, certainly, though all my memories of frigid winters and breezy summers come primarily from photos and stories. There are the occasional genuine memories of course - I recall living next to an elderly couple whose home I would often visit to see their numerous pets and, on lazy days, plates of cookies and glasses of lemonade. I don't remember their names, but I do remember their kindness.

When I was about 7 years old, arm in a hot pink cast from a rather ungraceful fall off of a sofa, we moved to Virginia. Leaving yet another group of friends behind - I changed schools about 4 times while in the north as it was - I started the third grade rather alone. A few months went by, turning 8 years old and meeting new people, before we moved yet again to a different city. It was there that my parents decided to finally settle down for good, and it's there that they live to this day (after having moved to a different house this summer, but remaining in the same general location). I started spring of the third grade, yet again on my own, and found myself best friends with the entire third grade faculty. The following year I was transferred to the gifted program, and it's at that moment my life finally settled down. I finally met the people I would keep in my heart for the next 13 years.

Nitya was, essentially, my first true friend in elementary school. It was sometime at the beginning of fourth grade when we were all in the cafeteria for lunch, my younger sister's class heading back to their room - she was in the first grade at the time - and I caught her eye and gave a reassuring wave.

"Is that your sister?" Nitya asked me from across the table. I hadn't even realized she was paying any mind.

"Yes," or at least some derivative of an affirmative. I don't remember much of the details, but from there we  got to talking about whatever it is that goes through the minds of two fourth grade girls, and before long we had developed a close friendship.

A close friendship which, having expanded to the Fab Four and others who I first met that year as the fourth grader who finally found her place, has survived over a decade. It is remarkable, truly.

Lemon-blueberry Layer Cake with Lemon Cream Cheese Frosting
Adapted from Sweetapolita.
Yields one 3-layer, 8-inch cake.

For the cake, you'll need:

• 2 cups plus 6 tbsp flour
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp salt
• 3 cups fresh or frozen blueberries, thawed and patted dry
• 3/4 cup buttermilk
• 2 tsp vanilla
• 2 tbsp lemon juice
• 1 tsp lemon zest
• 1 cup [2 sticks] butter, softened
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 4 eggs

• lemon curd, for layering

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

• 2 8-oz packages of cream cheese, softened
• 3/4 cup [1 1/2 sticks] butter, softened
• 2 tbsp lemon
• 1 tsp lemon zest
• 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. In a small bowl, toss blueberries with one tablespoon of flour. In a medium-sized bowl, sift flour remaining flour, baking powder, and salt. In another small bowl, whisk buttermilk, lemon juice, lemon zest, and vanilla. Set both bowls aside.

Cream butter and sugar on medium speed until light and fluffy, about 5 mins. Add eggs, one at a time, scraping down the sides of the bowl after each addition. Alternate adding flour mixture and buttermilk mixture, beginning and ending with flour. Gently fold in blueberries by hand. Divide batter among cake pans and bake for 25-30 mins, or until golden brown and set. Remove cakes from the pans and cool to room temperature.

To prepare the cream cheese frosting:

Cream butter and cream cheese on medium speed until fluffy, about 5 mins. Add lemon juice, lemon zest, and vanilla and mix. Lower speed and gently add in the sugar, and beat until light. Refrigerate until using.

To assemble the cake:

Place one layer on a serving plate. Frost the top of the layer with a generous amount of lemon curd. Spread a thin layer of the cream cheese frosting on top. Place second layer on top of the base and repeat. Place third layer on top and thinly frost the top and sides of the cake with a crumb coat. Refrigerate both the cake and the frosting for about 30 mins. Remove from the fridge and use remaining frosting to frost the top and sides. Garnish with a frosting border or lemon, if desired.

This weekend, 13 years later, my dear friend drove 4 hours up to the apartment - alongside the Blue Ridge Mountains, so she didn't mind too, too much - to spend the weekend with Noosh and I. Hannah drove down from her university as well, and so we had a wonderful weekend of Fab Four bonding, complete with diet Snapple and trashy magazines, visiting the downtown mall with Matt and Georgia and enjoying dessert with Tommy. 

Since Nitya was in Italy for the semester, I was unable to surprise her with a 21st birthday cake as I did for Hannah and Farnoosh. So for her big visit this weekend, she and I worked together on her belated birthday cake. After a lazy afternoon in used bookshops - a rather successful visit if I do say so myself, thanks to a wonderful local book shop owner named Dave - it was a lovely treat to enjoy in the evening. So happy belated birthday, my darling Nitya. I can't believe I've celebrated so many birthdays with you, and hope to celebrate many more in future. Without you, fourth grade would have been an enormous bore. 

Unfortunately, two days was not nearly enough for the four of us, but we made the most of the time we had with good food and more lovely memories to add to our repertoire. 

After all, we have all the time in the world for more.

6 [layers] x 4 [hungry people] - 3 [feet tall] = 21 [years old]

Ah, birthday season.

It has begun.

Naturally, the start of birthday season always coincides splendidly with finals, which is both hideously inconvenient and a wonderful break from studying.

But since it's Noosh's birthday, the break is always, always welcome.

Though, I suppose that after spending the vast majority of our Saturday night writing and editing term papers along with Big Bang Theory and How I Met Your Mother breaks every thirty or so minutes, but it's okay since I started and finished a rather decently executed 8-page political theory essay in a grand total of 6 hours, I think today's lunch and subsequent sugar coma were well-deserved.

Noosh's rents came up today and took us out for a fantastic lunch at Outback, which was quite literally the first time in weeks that she and I had a meal that didn't involve items of questionable edibleness haphazardly thrown together in an attempt to fashion what few would call any semblance of a plate of food, so I was pretty damn pleased. I mean, salmon on rice pilaf with broccoli? It was like a holiday miracle, I kid you not. 

I feel unbelievably rejuvenated now and have this delusion that I possess the strength necessary to stare down my metaphysics term paper with the utmost confidence. By that I mean I may not actually pass out from sheer terror anymore.

Anyway, lunch was great [the whole 'real food' thing], and then we came back to the apartment for merriment and cake.


And so we ate. And ate. And ate some more.

And I'm still reeling from all the sugar. [What else is new.]

Fall Hummingbird Cake
Adapted from Sweetapolita and For the Love of Food.
Makes one three-layer 9-inch cake.

For the cake, you'll need:

• 3 cups flour
• 2 cups light brown sugar
• 1 tsp baking soda
• 1 tsp cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp nutmeg
• 1/4 tsp cloves
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1 cup chopped pecans
• 3 eggs
• 1 cup vegetable oil
• 1 cup pumpkin
• 3 ripe bananas, mashed
• 1 8-oz can crushed pineapple, with juice

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

• 2 8-oz packages cream cheese, at room temperature and cut into cubes
• 1 stick unsalted butter, at room temperature
• 1/3 cup maple syrup
• 1 tbsp vanilla
• 5 cups powdered sugar

To prepare the hummingbird cake:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and grease and flour three 9-inch cake pans. In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with paddle attachment, beat eggs and oil on medium speed until frothy, about a minute. Add in pumpkin, bananas, and pineapple and mix until well-blended, 3-4 minutes. Remove the bowl from the stand. In a separate bowl, sift flour, sugar, spices, salt, and baking soda. Dump flour mixture into the pumpkin mixture and stir with a wooden spoon until barely incorporated. Stir in pecans and mix until just combined.

Divide batter among the three pans. Bake for 25 minutes, or until golden brown and a toothpick inserted in the center comes out clean. Allow cakes to cool completely before frosting.


To prepare the maple cream cheese frosting:
In the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with paddle attachment, beat butter, maple syrup, and vanilla on medium speed until well-mixed. Reduce speed to low and gradually add in powdered sugar. Beat until the frosting fluffs up a bit, about 3 minutes. Add in the cream cheese all at once, increase speed to medium-high, and beat until the frosting is light and fluffy, about 5 minutes. Refrigerate frosting until using.


To assemble the cake:
Place one of the three layers on the serving plate. Frost top of the layer with a generous amount of frosting. Repeat with the second and third layers, and use remaining frosting to frost the sides of the cake. Refrigerate cake until serving. Garnish with chopped pecans, if desired.

Alright, so my cake was the approximate size of a small child. And was also 6 layers tall. And it could probably feed a small country. With leftovers remaining.

What I did was bake the cake twice over - used the same three pans for the second round of batter, and I was left with six, rather sizable, layers of hummingbird cake. I let them cool completely, and then got to frosting, the recipe for which I increased by 50% [I'll let you do the math on this one].

Now, a word of caution: if you're going to make a 6-layer cake, you can not assemble the entire thing all at once. I initially did all 6 layers, and the mess was teetering over worse than the tower of Pisa. I almost had a mental breakdown, and then decided to just remove two layers. Instead of throwing them away, I stuck them on a plate and figured I'd just have two cakes [of two awkwardly-different heights]. The cake with four layers was pretty stable, so I went ahead and frosted it completely. Then I decided that, no, I am not going to sit here and allow physics to destroy all of my dreams and happiness, so I stuck the four-layered cake in the freezer for about an hour and a half [stuck the other two in the fridge during this time], then placed the two refrigerated layers on top, refrosted the top two layers, and stuck it back into the freezer to firm up completely.

So, if you, dear reader, hope to make a 6-layered cake, I would do the following:

1. assemble and frost four layers, sides and all 
2. wrap remaining two layers in clingwrap and allow them to mellow out on the counter
3. place frosted cake in freezer for 1.5 hours
4. frost and add final two layers to frozen cake [note that frosting blends seamlessly with what has been done prior]
5. place 6-layer, frosted cake in freezer for another 2 hours
6. transfer frozen cake to the fridge for at least 4 hours before serving, so that it has a chance to thaw and isn't an unpleasant experience to eat

Yes, it is a time-consuming process, as all layer cakes are loathe to be, so make sure to keep in mind the time you'll need to set aside to make it happen.

You could also always just go with the three-layer, but the six-layer is far more enjoyable to slice.

As for decoration, I just purchased some fake flowers from Michaels, trimmed them off of the stalk, and arranged them on top. Chopped up some walnuts for some sort of aesthetic flair - rocks maybe? I'm really not quite sure - and it ended up looking more like a wedding cake than a birthday cake. But the addition of candles toned down the exuberant amounts of class radiating off of the cake, so it was all good.

#sarcasm

Anyway, Noosh and her famfam loved it, so I figured it was a success in the end.

And finally, my darling Farnoosh, most amazing roommate and best friend one could wish for in the most epic bromance that ever was, I hope you had an absolutely wonderful 21st birthday [despite the fact that you are sitting next to me working on an ethics term paper], and I'm warning you now that once you turn it in, we are in for a night of a How I Met Your Mother marathon. Prepare yourself.

As for later this week, I'll be at the apartment until Friday when I'm finally off for break. I have this vague notion that the cousins and I are heading to NYC next week, but I'm fuzzy on some all of the details. But at least I have a few weeks to spend with the family before I'm back here for intercession.

And sometime in between there are about 3 more birthdays needing to be celebrated, so at least there's weight-gain to look forward to.

[churros and orange juice] cinnamon cake with dulce de leche frosting and salted caramel shards

I am just realizing that 11/11/11 is happening tomorrow. I am also realizing that this was a Facebook group I joined at least two years ago, thinking "oh, that's so far away, I have forever to think up the most epic wish I can conceive."

Yet, an odd-two years later, I don't know what to wish for. Two years ago I thought I'd be more mature, with a concrete path laid out for my life, knowing exactly what I'd want to do and how long it'd take me to do it. Two years ago I thought that being in my 20s meant I'd be an independent adult, fully-functioning social paradigm of grace and poise, with a repertoire of meritorious experiences under my belt.

*snort*

All I've learned since then is that I'm likely not at all capable of surviving even a week in the real world without parental guidance, financial support, or an academic counselor telling me what I should do with my life. Perhaps I should wish for some direction. Or coming up with an adequate thesis topic before Thanksgiving break. Or being proposed to by a handsome prince with loads of cash.

I kid, of course. Okay, perhaps not so much about the rich prince, but as for the rest, I'm not concerned. Still growing up, after all. And learning, and experiencing, and all that important stuff.

All that's more useful than wishing, anyway. Where will wishing get you, save for crushing disappointment when laziness trumps pro-activity? Not that I'll stop being lazy, of course, but best not to put all your eggs in one basket. Particularly when that basket is just a socially constructed label of "epicness" for one of the [admittedly] coolest numerical dates in existence.

But I digress. This post isn't about wishes. It is about a date, though, and an important one, at that. Specifically, my dear friend Zach's birthday. Which was yesterday, but whatever.

[Also my father's, incidentally, but that celebration is for another day when I'm actually at home. Nevertheless, all my love and best wishes, dad!]

Zach loves dessert. I know this because he and Jerm often serve as my human garbage disposals for leftover baked goods. But when I bake for Zach, it has always been with peanut butter. It's a safe bet, since the only thing Zach loves more than dessert is peanut butter. But I'm tired of peanut butter and predictability. I wanted to do something unique, and different, and special, and totally and utterly for Zach.

So I decided on churros.


...okay, so, not really churros. But a cake totally and utterly churro-inspired. I had been pondering for a while earlier in the week about what I could do outside of the realm of legume butters, and suddenly it struck me. And I couldn't believe I hadn't thought of it earlier.

Cinnamon Cake with Dulce de Leche Frosting and Salted Caramel Shards
A bakedbeen original.
Yields one 9-inch cake.

For the cinnamon cake, you'll need:

• 4 eggs
• scant 1 cup sugar
• 5 tbsp whole milk
• 2 tsps vanilla
• 2 1/2 cups flour
• 1 tbsp cinnamon
• 1/2 tsp salt
• 1 tbsp baking powder

For the dulce de leche frosting, you'll need:

• 11 oz cream cheese, softened
• 3 tbsp butter, softened 
• 1 14-oz can dulce de leche
• 2 cups powdered sugar
• 1 tsp vanilla

For the salted caramel shards, you'll need:

• 1 cup sugar
• 1/4 cup water
• 1 tsp fleur de sel

To prepare the cinnamon cake:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and grease and flour two 9-inch cake pans. In a large mixing bowl fitted with the paddle attachment, mix eggs and sugar on medium speed until blended. Add in milk and vanilla and incorporate. Lower speed and add flour, cinnamon, salt, and baking powder. Mix until just blended. Divide batter equally among both pans and smooth with a spatula. Bake for 35-40 minutes, until golden brown and a toothpick comes out clean when poked in the center. Let cool in the pan for 10 minutes, then invert cakes onto wire racks and let cool completely.


To prepare the dulce de leche frosting: 
In a large mixing bowl fitted with the paddle attachment, cream butter and cream cheese until fluffy. Add dulce de leche and mix on medium speed for about 3 minutes, until fully blended.  Lower speed to low and slowly add in powdered sugar. Gradually raise speed to medium-high and beat for 5 minutes, until light and fluffy. Add vanilla and beat another 30 seconds. Frosting can be prepared up to a day ahead and kept refrigerated until using.


To prepare the salted caramel shards:
Line a baking sheet with aluminum foil and set aside. In a medium-sized saucepan over medium-high flame, whisk sugar and water until sugar dissolves. Once the syrup starts to bubble, stop whisking. Allow syrup to heat, undisturbed, until the mixture turns a deep amber color. Quickly remove the pan from the heat and slowly pour the syrup onto the aluminum foil, allowing it to spread out into a thin layer. Sprinkle fleur de sel evenly over the sugar. Let sugar harden, about 30 minutes. Peel sugar off of the aluminum foil and, with your hands, break it apart into shards. Set aside and cover loosely with cling-wrap until using.


To assemble the cake:
Place one of the cake layers on a serving plate. Spread a generous layer of the frosting on top of the cake. Sprinkle some of the shards on top of the frosting. If the shards are large, break them into small pieces [but be sure to reserve a few large shards to decorate]. Place the second layer on top. Frost the top and sides of the cake with the remaining frosting. Refrigerate until serving.

Right before serving the cake, pierce the remaining large shards around the center of the cake.

Zach and I spent 4.5 weeks in Spain earlier this summer, which, if you know me at all, are familiar with in excruciating detail. We had a marvelous time, of course, from exploring Valencia to trying new foods to visiting Granada to actually being able to converse with the locals. One of my fondest memories, though, is on one of our walks back from university.

It was a nice walk, about 2.5 miles, strolling past familiar old bookshops, banks, and boutiques, chatting about anything and everything. Zach had been telling me, since day one, that he wanted nothing more than to eat some good, Spanish churros, but we had yet to have done so. So we decided, probably about halfway into our trip, after having come to that startling realization, to stop at one of the unassuming cafes by our apartments to eat some flipping churros.

And they were delicious. Fresh and crispy, still hot and leaving traces of cinnamon sugar on our fingers, a mug full of warm chocolate sauce for dipping, and a tall glass of Valencian orange juice for patriotism. A perfect 15 minutes of sitting in the center of the plaza with nothing on our minds save for realization that we were actually in Spain, sitting in the center of the plaza, eating churros.

And so it was a no-brainer that I wanted to give some of that perfection back to Zach for his 21st birthday. Not exactly churros, but a cake unequivocally inspired by that afternoon. Perhaps not the answer to his epic wish for Friday, but intended to remind him of something meaningful.

Unparalleled deliciousness was only a bonus, really.

[But seriously. One of the best cakes I've ever made. Not to toot my own horn or anything, but seriously.]


Though I think I'm settling with the rich prince wish for 11/11/11. No harm in trying, right?

Only crushing disappointment can come out of this, after all.

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.

[almost-vegan but totally ethical] raspberry-walnut chiffon cake with chocolate-avocado buttercream

It's startling how quickly something can become routine, and how quickly other things can be pushed to the back of your mind, like dust swept under the rug. I've been cleaning out my hard drive of old files and photos in an effort to organize my life a bit, and rummaging through albums from summers past and collections of pictures of desserts baked for old friends' birthdays, I'm somewhat surprised at how long ago some things seem, even though they really weren't that long ago at all.

Spain, for example. I can't even believe that less than three months ago, I'd be waking up on the eleventh floor of Maria's apartment, grabbing my backpack and heading out on the routine 3-mile walk to campus, strolling past unassuming bookshops and cafes along narrow Valencian streets. Feels like years. And yet, not quite so.

I'm quite a fan of decorating chocolate and raspberry desserts in this fashion. The motivation behind it is my utter lack of creativity. At least, as Noosh so graciously pointed out [in the manner only a best friend would without actually highlighting your creative deficiencies], "it looks like a cake one would find in a bohemian cafe."

This weekend marks the end of the second week of the semester, and yet it feels like it's been going on for ages. Like there was no summer. Papers, hundreds of pages of reading, mundane assignments, insomnia, having to wake up early, wanting to procrastinate with Netflix. It's like I've been doing this for years without pause. The familiarity is nice, of course, but also draining. Feeling like I've been doing this for years also means feeling like I never get quite enough sleep.

But being a third year now, I don't have to deal with the torture of having to familiarize myself with a new place, overwhelmed by enormous classes and distant professors, new hallmates and suitemates and RAs, missing the ease of having a car on hand.

Instead, I have the ability to drive down to a good friend's apartment at any hour I please, dressed up [for once] and an almost-vegan but totally ethical cake in hand for a relaxing and sophisticated dinner party.

Raspberry-Walnut Chiffon Cake with Chocolate Avocado Buttercream
Adapted from Rose's Heavenly Cakes, passion 4 eating, and my imagination.
Yields one three-layer, 8-inch cake

For the walnut chiffon cake, you'll need:

• 1 1/4 cups walnuts
• 3/4 cup flour
• 1/2 cup cornstarch
• 1 tsp baking powder 
• 1 cup sugar plus 2 tablespoons, divided
• 5 egg whites, at room temperature
• 1/2 tsp cream of tartar
• 8 egg yolks, at room temperature
• 1 tsp vanilla

For the chocolate-avocado "buttercream", you'll need:

• 3 ripe avocados 
• 3/4 cup cocoa powder
• 1 1/4 cup powdered sugar
• pinch of salt
• 1/2 tsp vanilla
• 1 tbsp instant coffee

• 1 cup raspberry preserves
• 1/2 pint fresh raspberries, to garnish

To prepare the walnut-chiffon cake:
Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and grease and flour three 8-inch square pans [alternatively, three 8-inch round pans or two 9-inch round pans will work]. In a food processor, pulse the walnuts and 2 tbsp of flour until they are the consistency of breadcrumbs. Add in the remaining flour, cornstarch, and baking powder, and pulse until fine. Set aside.

In a the bowl of an electric mixer fitted with the whisk attachment, beat egg whites on medium speed until frothy. Add in cream of tartar and increase speed to medium-high until soft peaks form. Gradually add in half of the sugar [1/2 cup plus 1 tablespoon] until stiff peak forms. Gently spoon the meringue into a large bowl, being careful not to deflate them, and set aside. Clean the bowl and whisk and dry completely.

Now whisk the egg yolks and remaining sugar on medium-high speed until light and fluffy, about 5 minutes. Add in the vanilla and mix until incorporated. Sprinkle the flour mixture on top of the egg yolks, but don't mix. Using a spatula, gently fold 1/3 of the egg whites into the egg yolk mixture to lighten the batter [and consequently mixing the flour into the eggs]. Carefully fold in the remaining egg whites in two additions, being careful not to over-mix or deflate the whipped egg whites. The batter will be thick and dense. Separate the batter equally across the pans. If using three pans, bake for 20-25 minutes, until the top of the cakes are golden-brown. If using two pans, bake for 30-35 minutes. Let cakes cool completely. 


To prepare the chocolate-avocado "buttercream": 
Scoop the flesh out of the three avocados into the bowl of a food processor. Add in all ingredients and process until smooth and creamy. Add more sugar if it's not sweet enough to your liking. Keep buttercream refrigerated until using. Note that the frosting can be made a day ahead. 


To assemble the cake:
Place one cake layer on a serving plate. Spread a thin layer of the chocolate frosting over the top of the layer, as a sort of crumb-coating. Pour half of the raspberry preserves on top of the chocolate and spread it evenly. Gently place the second cake layer on top of the base, and repeat with another crumb-coating and the remaining raspberry preserves. Place the final layer on top of the cake and frost the top and sides with the remaining frosting. Garnish the top of the cake with the fresh raspberries. Keep cake refrigerated until serving.

I'd have to say, playing Taboo and discussing anthropological differences in pop-culture film dubs, in a room full of college students well-fed with butternut squash lentils, roasted Brussels sprouts, stewed beans, and ethical cake, is a rather excellent way to spend an evening.

Chelsea invited us over this evening, meeting new friends and reuniting with old ones, for a small little dinner party. Since she eats ethical now, we had a vegan dinner and I took it upon myself to offer to make dessert. I have to admit, the challenge of baking ethical was hugely intriguing.

The cake is a dense walnut chiffon, adapted from Rose's almond chiffon cake recipe in her gorgeous cookbook, made ethical with the use of eggs from happy chickens [courtesy of Whole Foods, of course, and borrowed from Chelsea for this dessert]. Being a chiffon cake, it lacks any sort of dairy and thus is completely vegan save for the eggs. 

The frosting is something I've been dying to try for quite a while now; chocolate-avocado "buttercream." Avocado is extremely useful in foods with consistencies like sauces and frostings, as the oil content acts very much like butter. Here, the cocoa powder does a rather good job of masking the avocado taste, and though on its own the frosting is pretty distinct [in neither a positive nor negative way, mind you], on top of a cake it's absolutely brilliant.

And paired with raspberries, it's almost sinful.


Admittedly, I was extremely nervous about this cake. I mean, if it turned out disastrous...a room full of hungry people would be there to tell me all about it. Luckily, it was a hit. And everyone who was unaware of its ethical nature was absolutely floored when I told them about the vegan frosting. Which, I suppose, is the beauty of any sort of substitute dessert: the ability to make them taste convincing. I definitely hope to experiment more with avocado in future.

The rest of the weekend will be spent successfully muggling Famer's Market-bought Ezekiel bread into Panera bread, reading philosophy with a caffeine IV. A trip out of town on Sunday is the only thing motivating me to grin and bear tomorrow's day of catch-up.


As for now, I'm running on about 5 hours of sleep and am in desperate need of some shut-eye. Isn't college just the best?

cherry cake

"Happiness is a bowl of cherries and a book of poetry under a shade tree."

-Astrid Alauda

Nothing sings "summer" more beautifully than a handful of cherries. They make one's tastebuds dance, waltzing gracefully between sweet and tart, the sounds of gentle 'popping' filling the ears like Mozart. They stain the fingers like ruby paint on an empty canvas, elegant in their puerile innocence. They remind me of dirt and earth, Farmer's Markets, Sicilian breezes, and sunshine.

I love them.

I'm home for the weekend, since my parents officially received the keys to our new house on Thursday. We haven't moved in completely, yet [the date is set for this Saturday], but much of yesterday and today have been spent driving back and forth, seeing painted walls and polished wood floors, building bar stools and patio chairs, and marveling at how strikingly different everything is, now finished, since the last time I was home two weeks ago.

In honor of the occasion, mom had me bake. It was quite the interesting experience, baking in a completely vacant kitchen, lacking chairs and tables, almost like model kitchens one strolls past in a Home Depot.

Cherry Cake

Adapted from Joy of Baking

You'll need:

• 1 pound fresh cherries, pitted
• 1 1/2 cups flour
• 1 1/2 tsp baking powder
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 2 eggs
• 1/2 cup [1 stick] unsalted butter, melted and cooled
• 1/3 cup milk
• 1 tsp vanilla extract
• 1 1/2 tsp almond extract

Preheat oven to 400 degrees Fahrenheit and grease a 9-inch springform pan.

In a medium sized bowl, sift flour, baking powder, and salt. Set aside.

In a separate bowl, beat the eggs and sugar on medium speed thick and bright yellow, 3-5 minutes. Pour in melted butter, milk, and extracts, and mix until incorporated. Lower mixer speed to slow and gradually add in flour mixture, mixing until just combined. Gently fold in the pitted cherries, reserving half cup of cherries for the top of the cake.

Pour batter into the prepared pan and bake for 20 minutes. Remove cake from the oven, press the reserved cherries over the top of the cake, and return to bake for an additional 15 minutes, until cake is soft and springy to the touch. Let cool at least 10 minutes before removing from the pan. Serve warm.

But mom and my grandmother believe in blessings and good fortune. And so whenever we move, the first thing mom does is cook something sweet, as a way of bringing luck and happiness to the new home. Something my grandmother always did, something my mom learned from her, and something that has now passed down to me. Since I won't be here the day they move, I baked in our new oven, so that the first smell of food was the warm scent of cake and summertime wafting through empty hallways, filling vacant rooms with comfort and peace.

Even though it's still unfurnished, it made the house feel like home.

While at the house this afternoon [the old house, not the new], I whipped up a batch of toffee bars as well, as a thank you to the workers who have made the moving process so much easier and quicker than what we four, alone, would have been able to manage [which is, to say, nothing]. I brought them over, along with a pan full to the brim with unbaked batter, and so popped the pan into the oven, sliced up the bars and cake, and ate dessert off of small plates we brought back from the old house. A makeshift picnic in an empty kitchen, save for good company and good spirits.

A fitting way to spend a summer day, I think.

Though I will be missing the big move this weekend [heading back to the apartment on Tuesday], I'll be back home in another two weeks. I can't lie and say that I'm not excited to see how everything will look once furnished with familiar sofas and tables, how my room will look with its "inside of a cucumber green," so aptly dubbed by my mother, and how much the scents of turmeric and cilantro have permeated every nook and cranny.

I'm certain it'll feel as though I've lived here my whole life, but I'm more concerned with how our cat is going to fare.

Probably will have gotten himself locked in a cupboard, I'm sure.

torta di grigna

I hate moving. Not that I get particularly attached to any one location, so the issue isn't the fact that I'm leaving a house I've lived in for 11 years. I will miss the familiarity, of course, but as for the house itself. Well, when you're moving about 2 miles away, it's not going to be much of a loss.

The problem with moving is the moving. The boxes, the cleaning, the stress, discovering old things you thought you had thrown away, and regret not having thrown away because they bring back awkward memories of your childhood idiocy and embarrassing old hobbies [though, mountains upon mountains of Barbie dolls and miniature toy cars make quite an interesting dichotomy].

It's Sunday afternoon, and between absorbing the defense's closing arguments in the Casey Anthony trial [yes, I have been following this trial since my return home, and find it highly interesting, if not very sad] and listening to my father steam-clean the carpet for pending potential buyers coming to visit the house, I imagine how hectic the next month or so is going to be. Full of stress, cleaning, and boxes.

After all, there are 11 years of memories in this house. That's quite a lot to fit into cardboard and ship off.

Nonetheless, today I go back to the apartment, and I'll be there for the next two weeks. [Note that my return home aligns perfectly with the release of Deathly Hallows Part II. This is not a coincidence.] And by then, I assume I will spend my weekend home folding clothes and squeezing trinkets into small compartments, trying my best not to break anything [and probably failing anyway].

So it was only fitting that when I baked a chocolate and almond cake this morning, mom solemnly told me, in no uncertain terms,

"Sabeen, this is the last cake you are ever going to bake in this house. Ever."

I responded with a raise of my eyebrow and look of deadpan indifference. And then we both laughed, sliced the cake, and took a break from the chaos.

Since the start of the summer, I am pleased and mortified to say that I have ordered 5 new cookbooks. This brings my total collection up to...a number which is far too disconcerting to share. [Also, I'm not exactly sure how many. But it is a lot.] One, which I am currently enjoying immensely, is Jessica Theroux's Cooking with Italian Grandmothers. Jessica shares colorful stories of her year spent in Italy, traveling from Tuscany to Sicily, staying with twelve or so different nonne, tasting and cooking her way through the country's diverse, regional cuisine.

Basically, what I wish my life was always.

This torta di Grigna, or cocoa and almond cake, comes from the mountains of Lombardia. It's a dense cake, though not terribly sweet, so would be perfect with afternoon tea or coffee.

Or, if you're me, some sweetened cream or vanilla ice cream on the side to make it decadent.

Torta di Grigna
Adapted from Cooking with Italian Grandmothers

You'll need:

• 1 1/2 cups [2 1/2 sticks] unsalted butter, softened
• 1 1/2 cups sugar
• 5 large eggs, separated
• 3/4 cup heavy cream [substitute with whole milk if cream is unavailable]
• 1 cup raw almonds, chopped
• 2 cups flour
• 2 tbsp cocoa powder
• 2 tsp baking powder
• 1 tsp baking soda
• pinch of salt 

Preheat oven to 350 degrees Fahrenheit and grease a 9-inch springform pan.

In a bowl, cream butter and sugar with an electric mixer until light and fluffy. Add egg yolks and cream and mix on medium-high speed until fully incorporated, 3-4 minutes. Using a wooden spoon, stir in half of the chopped almonds [reserve the other 1/2 cup], flour, cocoa, baking powder, baking soda, and salt, and stir until blended. The batter is thick and stiff, so it may take a fair amount of effort to mix the batter well.

In a separate bowl, whip the egg whites until they form soft peaks. Gently fold the egg whites into the cake batter, stirring with the wooden spoon. Spoon the thick batter into the prepared pan and spread it out evenly. Sprinkle the top of the cake with the remaining chopped almonds.

Bake for 60-70 minutes, until the center of the cake is springy, but not jiggly, and the edges of the cake begin pulling away from the sides of the pan. Allow the cake to cool in the pan for about 10 minutes before transferring to a serving plate. Serve warm or at room temperature.

It's a pretty good cake. Airy and light, despite the denseness, and the flavor of the almonds is warmly nutty without being too overpowering.

It was also a nice centerpiece for the downstairs table for our potential buyers, so a win-win situation all around.

On an unrelated note, I have never had more television shows on my list than I do currently. I did have an entire week to get to it, but I honestly think I watched a grand total of maybe 3 hours of TV since my return. [The trial doesn't count. That's current events. And anything relevant to life never counts as a waste of time.] But, really, when did television actually get good again? Sherlock, Camelot, Rome, Battlestar Galactica, How I Met Your Mother, Modern Family, the list goes on.

Good thing I've got nothing else to do for the next six weeks.

pineapple-coconut upside-down cake

An entire post not centered around my shenanigans in Spain?! I thought I'd never see this day. Though I have to say, it's nice not having to sift through hundreds upon hundreds of photos of specific cathedrals, landmarks, or meals. Enjoyable, but time-consuming nonetheless.

Mom's birthday was last Friday, the day before I left for home. I was planning on baking this cake earlier in the week, but after some dramarama at JFK [unsurprising, since it's JFK] that left me in NY a day longer than expected, coupled with lingering jetlag that has me taking siestas every few hours like it's my job, I wasn't fully mentally competent enough to be handling an oven until this afternoon.

I prefer to peel my pineapple off the top and eat them like a side. But the normal individual usually leaves it on the top of the cake. It's your prerogative, really.

Still, any day is a good day for birthday cake, even if it is a bit belated. And when mom loves it despite the tardiness, it's all good in the neighborhood.

[It helps that she enjoyed my travel presents of a ceramic salt jar, fleur de sel, and hot paprika, but nuances.]

Pineapple-Coconut Upside-Down Cake
Adapted from My Recipes

You'll need:

• 2 tbsp butter, melted
• 1/2 cup packed brown sugar
• 12 oz sliced pineapple [preferably fresh, but canned works as well]
• 1 cup sweetened coconut flakes
• 1 cup flour
• 1 tsp baking powder
• 1/2 tsp baking soda
• 1/4 tsp salt
• 1/2 cup mashed banana [about 1 whole banana]
• 2 tbsp canola or vegetable oil
• 1 egg
• 1/4 cup pineapple juice

Preheat the oven to 375 degrees Fahrenheit and grease the sides of a 9-inch springform pan. Pour the melted butter onto the bottom of the pan and tilt pan so the butter spreads evenly over the base. Sprinkle the brown sugar evenly over the butter. Layer the sliced pineapple over the brown sugar, covering as much of the surface as possible. Sprinkle coconut flakes over the pineapple and set aside.

In a large bowl, whisk together dry ingredients. In a separate bowl, combine banana, oil, egg, and pineapple juice and mix until blended. Pour the wet ingredients into the flour mixture and whisk until fully incorporated. Spoon the batter evenly over the top of the coconut flakes and spread gently, trying not to pull up any of the coconut flakes.

Bake for 25-30 minutes, until top is golden-brown. Let cake cool in pan for at least 20 minutes before inverting onto a serving plate. Serve warm or at room temperature.

This cake was, initially, somewhat of a struggle. I'm not talking about the actual baking, that itself was easy. The problem was with mom's desire for a chocolate cake. But after having spent many an art class battling with unreliable WiFi to search for the perfect birthday cake, there was no way I was going to give in. So I stuck by my principles, assured her that she would fall head-over-heels in love with it, and baked it.

And, in the end, the look of sheer bliss on her face when she took a bite said it all.

In other news, I'm pretty happy to be back home. Not that I don't miss Valencia terribly, but it's rather luxurious having AC again. Nevertheless, I'll be heading back to Cville this Sunday for the remainder of the summer, and since I'll be living alone for the next 6-odd weeks, I'm not sure that I'll have many reasons to be baking.

[Knowing me, though, I won't need any.]


In other, other news, I'm really enjoying being back in the land of video games. Not that I didn't test out a bit of AC on Zach's host-brothers' PS3 on occasion [once], but Ezio is pretty hard to take seriously when speaking in Spanish [though he provided some much-needed amusement, at the time]. But I must say, sucking epically at Portal 2 has been one of the highlights of my week so far.

Not that, you know, I'm bad at video games [because I'm not]. It's just that I can't seem to wrap my head around a game whose end goal it is to defy the laws of space. Making portals left and right, opening up pathways from the ceiling to the adjacent wall, maneuvering across hundreds of feet by use of otherwise-impossible feats of momentum... My semester of astronomy refuses to let me see past the implausibility.



-snort-