Chocolate and cinnamon suspiros

My freezer is full of egg whites. I can't bring myself to waste them when making anything that uses only (or extra) yolks. Happily, egg whites freeze brilliantly, but sadly, pavlova's not something you make more than once a year. When this recipe was recommended to me, there were a few reasons I was excited to try it. One, it came from the most reputable of reputable sources - my mum's dear friend Di (mother of my own dear friend), who is one of the best cooks I know. Two, it used up not one, not two, but three egg whites (which still doesn't make a dent on what I have in the freezer but I'll take what I can get). Three, it stated that these cookies were named, apparently, for the sounds contented nuns made eating them: suspiros - Spanish for sighs. Having sampled them myself, I understand why the nuns were so enamoured. Pillowy clouds of meringue, scented with cinnamon, concealing little pockets of dark chocolate. Heavenly.

Miso-caramel apple pudding

I wasn't exaggerating when I said I'd been really getting into puddings. In addition to the marmalade toast sponge pudding I posted last week, this miso-caramel apple one is the other I've been making a lot right now. I first made it as I was curious about the use of miso in dessert - something about that deep savoury taste infusing a sweet caramel intrigued. Plus it's a great showcase for apples while they're in season. This dessert comes together in two parts - the apples are softened on the stovetop in butter and sugar and miso, then poured into a baking dish and covered in a blanket of sour cream sponge. The whole thing is baked in the oven, then emerges burnished brown. The fruit below is still nicely toothsome - so not a soggy mess - contrasting nicely with the lightness of the sponge above. The miso manages to make this both comforting and sophisticated. And unbelievably more-ish. If you don't already have miso in your fridge, buying a jar would be a good investment as the two teaspoons required for this recipe will barely make a dent on your supply, which means you can make it again (and again).

Marmalade toast sponge pudding

This winter has been the coldest in a while here in Sydney, and it's been raining for what feels like weeks. I've been really embracing puddings lately and this one is a recent revelation. The recipe comes from Jess Elliot Dennison, a Scottish cook whose recipes are in regular rotation in my repertoire. Her sticky triple ginger cake is a favourite, and now this genius pantry-cupboard pudding that utilises two ingredients I am extremely fond of and thus never without: sourdough bread, and marmalade. It comes together quickly, uses just one egg (a bonus in these dark times of avian flu and eye-watering egg prices) and offers comfort from the cold, and the dark. A bit of decadent dairy is a good accompaniment - ice cream of course, but plain old single cream is simple and delicious, especially soaked in to the sponge.

Blood plum spice cake

A friend of mine had a birthday recently and I wanted to make her a cake. Unlike 99% of the population, she's not a fan of icing (too sweet). While I've nothing against plain cakes (in fact I think I prefer them), for a celebration I think you need something a little bit special. An upside-down cake was the perfect solution. This one showcases plums, in season at the moment. The recipe comes from one of my favourite places in all the world, The Agrarian Kitchen, in Tasmania, so I knew it would be good. And indeed it was - the warm spices of the base the perfect complement to the tart, juicy fruit, which - once inverted - crowns the cake. A cracker.

Yeasted apricot cake

Since returning from my two week trip to colder climes over Christmas, I've been doing my best to make the most of summer fruit. Top of my list was this cake, which I first made a few years ago when a friend gave me a box of apricots as a Christmas present (she knows me well). Apart from showcasing apricots in all their glory - no complicated pre-cooking required, just remove the stones, quarter the fruit, and pop on the top - the enriched dough is lightly infused with lemon and sprinkled with crunchy cardamom sugar. It's simple yet stunning, more like a pastry really than a cake. A warning writ large in the title - yeast is involved here as the rising agent. If you're nervous about that, don't be. The recipe requires only one proofing period, so not a big time commitment. Don't worry if the dough doesn't double in size. I've read only recently this is a fallacy. You just need it to be discernibly bigger. If the dough hasn't noticeably increased in size in the suggested time, let it sit a bit longer. Hold your nerve. All will be well. And you'll have a wonderful cake at the end to show for it.

Browned butter and rosemary apple cake

I got to sit out summer for two weeks when I spent Christmas with family in the Pacific North-West of the US, and the New Year with friends just over the border in Canada. It's been ten years since I made this birthday cake for a then-seven year old, and all these years later she and I are somehow the same shoe size, and she's surpassed me in the kitchen - making dinner many nights for her parents, who really did hit the kid jackpot. I promised her grandmother we'd make a cake together during my stay. She was keen to try out the Danish dough whisk I'd brought her as a present. Given we'd all had more than our fill of chocolates, and puddings, and candy canes, something a bit less OTT was in order. I had a recipe for browned butter and rosemary apple cake from a Scottish cookbook I'd been given for Christmas, which seemed perfect... but for the fact that there'd been a run on rosemary for holiday roasts, so we had to try a few Vancouver grocery stores before we got lucky. Happily we did, as this cake was a winner. Simple and sophisticated - sweet with apple but with subtle savoury notes from the rosemary and nuttiness of the brown butter. Cosy and comforting. Like being with old friends.

Browned butter and rosemary apple cake
Adapted from Midweek Recipes by Jess Elliott Dennison

If you can't lay your hands on rosemary, thyme or sage would, according to the recipe's author, make a good substitute. 

6 sprigs rosemary

200g salted butter

225g self-raising flour

1 tsp baking powder

225g soft brown sugar

2 eggs

300g apples, peeled, cored, and thickly sliced

50g flaked almonds

Place the butter with the rosemary in a pan and heat on medium for 4-5 minutes, stirring regularly. The butter will foam up and become golden before turning dark brown. This is when to turn off the heat. A few dark specks will appear (probably on the base of the pan) and it will smelly really nutty. Strain this liquid (scraping every bit of it out with a spatula) through a fine-mesh strainer. Discard the rosemary and allow to cool. If some rosemary gets in the butter, that's totally fine.

Preheat the oven to 160 deg C (320 deg F) and grease and line and deep 23cm cake tin.

Combine flour, baking powder, sugar and eggs in a bowl and add the melted, slightly-cooled butter. Mix well until combined into a thick batter.

Spread half the mixture over the base of the cake tin, then scatter over the apples, ensuring most go in the centre. Spoon remaining cake batter over the fruit. Don't panic if you can't get your dollops of batter to join up as it will all even out in the oven. Sprinkle the almonds over the top and bake for 45 minutes to one hour, or until golden and coming away from the sides of the tin.

Orange sugar-dusted madeleines

Generally, I don't like to post anything here that requires special equipment but in all other respects this recipe fits my overall philosophy of baking: simple things that satisfy. Though I'd been curious about madeleines for some time, I didn't have a tin, and didn't particularly want to acquire a new piece of kitchen equipment that only had one purpose. But a recipe from Julia Busuttil-Nishimura's new cookbook Good Cooking Everyday pushed me over the edge... or more accurately, to purchase a madeleine tin. The idea of sweet, shell-shaped cakes eaten warm from the oven was irresistible. All the more more given they were infused with orange, a favourite flavour of mine, as the recipe index of this blog can attest. 

The brilliance of madeleines is that you make the batter ahead of time - the night before even - and they cook in a speedy 12 minutes. All you do once they're baked is tip them out of the tin and roll them in sugar. They're extremely low effort but high impact in terms of presentation and, most importantly, flavour. The real test of a new piece of kitchen equipment is whether or not you'll use it regularly, and in this case, I'm happy to report: unreservedly, yes.

Orange sugar-dusted madeleines

Adapted from a recipe by Julia Busuttil-Nishimura, as published in Broadsheet 

I was skeptical about a mixture that used a rising agent yet sat - refrigerated - for so long before baking but I can report the cakes came out perfectly, with the prettiest of little domes.

3 eggs

80g (1/3 cup) caster (superfine) sugar

40g honey

Finely grated zest of one orange

1 tsp orange blossom water

1 tsp vanilla extract

150g self-raising flour

good pinch of salt

150g unsalted butter, melted and cooled, plus extra for greasing

orange sugar

finely grated zest of one orange

80g caster (superfine) sugar

Whisk the eggs, caster sugar and honey in the bowl of a stand mixer for 8-10 minutes or until voluminous and pale. Stir in orange zest, orange blossom water and vanilla. Gently fold in flour and salt - taking care not to overmix - and finally the melted butter. Cover and place mixture in fridge for 45-60 minutes or even overnight.

For orange sugar: in a bowl, rub the orange zest into the caster sugar until the mixture is damp and fragrant. Set aside.

Preheat oven to 180 deg C. Brush a madeleine tin with the extra melted butter, then spoon about one tablespoon of batter into each mould. Bake for 10-12 minutes or until the madeleines have risen and and are lightly golden. Remove from the tin, roll in orange sugar and eat warm.

Italian orange cake

I was recently given a huge haul of citrus from a friend's farm so have been on a mission to make things with oranges, grapefruit, limes, mandarins and lemonades. This weekend I used one perfect orange to make a cake that used the fruit whole, but rather than boiling it first for two hours as with Middle-eastern orange cake, you simply blend it up fresh and integrate it into a simple batter - a little like the famous Sunset cake but with canola oil rather than butter as a base. I like oil-based cakes a lot as they're great as a make-ahead option. In terms of technique, this recipe also appealed as it was just a matter of combining wet and dry ingredients. Almost as soon as I'd started, the cake was in the oven. But my luck didn't last. Shortly after the above photo was taken, my magnificent cake sunk spectacularly as I'd pulled it out too early and the centre was entirely uncooked. Skewer tests are not failsafe as I've learned (the hard way) and next time I will definitely be using the internal-read thermometer I'd bought for this exact purpose (the internal temperature of cakes when fully baked is around 98 deg C / 210 deg F) and forgotten about. Happily, because my orange cake needed to be cut into pieces anyway as it was to be taken on a bush walk, it definitely didn't get wasted and the fully-baked bits around the edges were enjoyed up the top of the escarpment down the south coast on Sunday. They were delicious, a beautiful sweet-bitter burst of citrus in cake form on a sunny day.

Italian orange cake
Adapted from a recipe by This Italian Kitchen

I used a food processor as I don't have a blender so there were little chunks of orange studded through the crumb of the cake. I thought this rather added to its appeal, but if you like things more refined - and you own one - you may like to use a blender.

1 large thin-skinned orange
1 1/4 cups sugar (275g)

2/3 cup canola oil (140g)

3 large eggs

1 tsp vanilla

2 1/4 cups flour (300g)

2 tsp baking powder

1/4 tsp sea salt (use half this amount if table salt)

Preheat oven to 350 deg F. Position a rack in the centre of oven and grease and line a 9 inch springform tin.

Cut orange into chunks (removing any seeds you come across) and combine in blender with sugar, oil, eggs and vanilla. Process til smooth and fruit is completely puréed. Transfer mixture into a large bowl and fold in dry ingredients. 

Pour into prepared tin and bake for 40-45 minutes or until an internal read thermometer registers 98 deg C / 210 deg F. If you don't have a thermometer to gauge done-ness, use your finger to gently prod the middle of cake - if it still feels a bit wobbly, leave it in a bit longer. Use your instincts as to when it is done. The good news is that the cake is so moist from the oil and the whole orange, it's unlikely you'll ever over-bake.

Let cake sit in tin on wire rack for ten minutes, then turn out onto rack to cool completely.

Sticky triple ginger cake

It's winter in Sydney - the season for cosy cakes. The sort to have with a cup of tea, eat with your fingers, and crumb up your jumper. Ginger is a relatively new favourite flavour of mine. I'd always thought of it as old-fashioned, but now that's exactly what appeals to me about it. This is a very plain cake (it's brown, unadorned with icing or decoration) but contains hidden depths - three types of ginger, a delightful stickiness on its exterior, and a taste and texture perfect for pairing with a wedge of strong cheddar. The last one sounds odd I know, but the original recipe - by Scottish cookbook author Jess Elliott Dennison - recommended it as a serving suggestion, I tried it, and now I won't eat it any other way. As a bonus, this cake gets better with age (attractive as a make-ahead option), contains only one egg, and comes together in a single bowl (in this case, a saucepan). 

Just a note for any subscribers coming across this new recipe by accident - in order to get email notifications for new recipes on this blog, you'll have to resubscribe using the link top right. Blogger's subscribe function was discontinued about a year ago and tech is not my strong point. This is the best work-around I've found so hope it works for you!

Sticky triple ginger cake

Adapted from a recipe in Lazy Baking by Jessica Elliott Dennison

When I was in in the UK last December, I purchased some preserved stem ginger in syrup for the express purpose of making this cake. Over there, you can find it easily at any supermarket. In Australia, it's a bit harder to lay your hands on. You can buy it online, or make your own - I haven't tried it but this recipe looks good. The quantities below make quite a large cake. I tend to halve the recipe (just mix the egg with a fork before adding half) and bake it in a small loaf (21cm/8.5 inch) tin. The cooking time, I've found, is about the same.

125ml (1/2 cup) vegetable, light olive, or rapeseed (canola) oil, plus 1 tbsp for greasing tin
225g (1 1/4 cups) soft dark brown sugar
85g black treacle
150g golden syrup
1 1/2 tbsp ground ginger
1/4 tsp ground cloves
1 tsp ground cinnamon
1 tsp garam masala
20g fresh ginger
3 pieces of preserved stem ginger in syrup
1 egg
300g (2 1/2 cups) self-raising flour
1/2 tsp baking powder
350ml (1 1/2 cups) milk

Preheat the oven to 160 deg C / 350 deg F. Grease and line a 23cm (9 inch) springform tin.

Combine oil, sugar, treacle, golden syrup and spices in a large saucepan and heat on low, stirring regularly with a wooden spoon, til the sugar has dissolved. Remove from heat and set aside to cool.

While oil mixture is cooling, finely grate into it the fresh ginger (no need to peel), finely chop the stem ginger and add that in too, then stir to combine. By now the mixture should be cool enough to dip your finger in. If not, wait a little longer, then crack in the egg and stir to combine (if you do this when the mixture is too hot it will scramble). 

Mix in one quarter of the flour, and the baking powder. Continue to stir in the remaining flour (in the one direction to avoid lumps forming) and mix til smooth. Next, pour in one quarter of the milk to loosen the batter. Add the remaining milk, and stir through. The mixture may look too thin or like it's not coming together but just keep stirring til smooth.

Pour batter into the lined tin and bake in the preheated oven for one hour, or until firm to the touch. Cool slightly, then turn out onto a wire rack. Keeps well in an airtight container for up to five days.

Saffron, orange and yoghurt cake

I got some saffron for Christmas. I love grocery items as gifts - the sort of things that are useful but a little luxurious, that you might not include in your regular weekly shop. Saffron, which costs a lot for a little, falls squarely into this category. So when a friend had a birthday recently, I was ready with a cake. Saffron is a subtle flavour so know this recipe will still work really well without it. But what it does offer is an enhancement of colour - a warm glow that suffuses the cake. Its fine filaments are flecked through it too, little quivers of colour. Without saffron, what you get is a great everyday orange cake, easily made with ingredients you're likely to already have on hand. But saffron makes it just a little bit special, which is what birthdays - and Christmases - are all about after all. 

Double citrus syrup cake

 

I've got a real affection for cakes flavoured with citrus. The acidity of the fruit spectacularly offsets the sweetness of sugar. The flavour feels bright and fresh in the colder months when it's in season. But perhaps it's just because the colours put me in mind of nasturtiums, a flower I love, that grows wild in Brisbane backyards. And some more southern ones too. I'm lucky enough to have them permanently on display thanks to this beautiful linocut by my dad, which has pride of place in my living room. 

But this cake! The recipe is by Julia Busuttil-Nishimura, who's responsible for some of my favourite bakes of recent years - this raspberry coconut and lime cake, this ginger cake with brown sugar cream cheese frosting... It uses both lemon and orange and best of all, can be made in advance, as it has yoghurt in its list of ingredients, and is drenched after baking in a syrup, both of which keep it beautifully moist. I made a 2/3rds quantity here and used a small loaf tin, but the the three egg version (the original recipe, as below) would be lovely in the round. It looks good just as is but if you've got any nasturtiums about, they do make a very pretty (and edible) topping. It's also excellent with berries and cream.

Sesame cake

At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I really like simple cakes. This one definitely fits the bill - made in a loaf tin, with ingredients I already had, it had the added advantage of using up some black sesame seeds that had been languishing in my pantry since buying them for some recipe I can now no longer remember. It showcases not just sesame seeds (both black and white) but also tahini. Unsurprisingly - given that ingredient list - it's like halva in cake form - lightly sweet, utterly more-ish and quite magnificent with black coffee.

 

Pineapple and ginger upside-down cake

 

Pineapples are in season at the moment in Australia. I come from Queensland, home to the Big Pineapple, and like many kids who grew up in Brisbane, visited the Golden Circle Cannery on a school excursion. Such is my fondness for this sweet, spiky fruit and the association it has for me with home (somewhere I haven't been able to go for months now because of border closures), my dad made me a book plate in honour of it. 

So obviously this cake had my name on it. There's not much more of a story than that. All I'll say is that this recipe is excellent and well worth the very slight hassle of egg separation, pineapple peeling and multiple bowls to wash up. The flavours (pineapple and ginger are a classic combination) intensify over time which means you can make it ahead, which is always a win. But the sticky caramelised top means it's delicious warm with vanilla ice cream should you choose to eat it immediately.

Cinnamon marble cake

This last lockdown I wasn't baking as much. This is partly because I lost friends to farm out food to by being restricted to a 5km radius, the ones that lived close to me went on health kicks as a result of how much I fed them last time... and there's only so much cake you can give your 85 year old neighbour without concern you might be giving her diabetes. Another reason is that I discovered the pleasure of walking to a particular food destination as a way to mark the weekend and stop everything seeming so same-y. One lovely thing about lockdown in Sydney was that many restaurants pivoted in this period to become bakeries. One of these was Fred's in Paddington, run by chef Danielle Alvarez, previously of Berkeley's famous Chez Panisse. 

Fred's is a pleasant 30 minute walk from my place. On Saturdays for the last few months they've been offering up (for takeaway only) an array of delicious pastries, pies, cakes and breads. So I'd get a walk, get to support a local business and get something incredible to eat I didn't make myself. This cinnamon marble cake wasn't on Fred's menu but when I saw it on Danielle's excellent blog, I felt moved to make it as I love cakes with sour cream, had some to use up and all other ingredients to hand. Marble cakes can often be dry, but the sour cream guards against this and lends a luxury to a cake that comes together very simply and with store cupboard ingredients. 

Tarte tatin

 

Apple desserts are a favourite of mine. I grew up on crumbles, I can't go past a pie, and then there's this. If you take out of the equation the intimidating French name, there is nothing complicated about this tart. It's made in the same cast-iron skillet you might take camping, or use to make bacon and eggs. Its number of ingredients is few and it's more than likely you already have them on hand. If you don't, you could probably buy them all for about $5. All that stands between you and an impossibly sophisticated French bistro classic is the misguided belief that making it is hard. I am here to tell you it is not. You should make this. Serve it warm and ideally with vanilla ice-cream.

 

Peach, raspberry and almond cake

 

 

A few weeks ago I went to Brisbane. It was my first trip in over a year because of all the border closures that have characterised COVID in Australia. In the whirlwind of catching up with all the people I hadn't seen in so long in a short space of time, I spent a delightful afternoon with my friend's daughters (one a high schooler, one primary) making a cake. It's a tradition now - every time I come up we cook. Once it was these little Ottolenghi teacakes, a total hit. Another time it was this pie. This trip, it was a peach, raspberry and almond cake. 

 

 

To be clear, I actually do no cooking, only supervision. My friend sits back with a coffee and watches with amusement as I adjudicate fights over who gets to crack how many eggs, or fold in the flour. I get a swim or a gymnastics/trampoline/diving/clarinet show while whatever it is is in the oven, then - best of all - we eat it afterwards with their parents. This time I didn't take photos, so when I got home I made the cake again myself.

 

I've been trying to make the most of the stone fruit while it's in season, and this cake is an excellent vehicle for it. The juiciness of the fruit is soaked up by the ground almonds, and its softness contrasts beautifully with the sprinkle of chopped nuts on top. The orange zest rounds it all out and as my story attests, it's absolutely not difficult to make, as long as you fairly distribute the cracking of the eggs among all parties (one each for the girls, and I did the third). The reviews were excellent, from the Queenslanders, to the bush turkey who stole some slices I took on a bush walk on the weekend, to my 85 year old neighbour returning the Tupperware that contained a wedge I left on her doorstep. Couldn't put it better myself: such good cake.

 

 

 

Raspberry, coconut and lime cake

 

A sign of a good cake is how often you make it. Since the recipe for this one was published on The Design Files mid-October of 2020, it's been in heavy rotation in my repertoire and has come to be associated with bright spots in what was undoubtedly a challenging year. The first time I made it was to take with me to see my dad for the first time since January in the border bubble between Queensland and NSW. In early November I caught a plane to Ballina, he drove down from Brisbane to pick me up at the airport and we pulled over at the first sign of a picnic table to eat this cake, a belated birthday one for him. I made it again it to take to my cousin and his wife who'd just had a baby (once they got home from hospital, where visitors weren't allowed) and, more recently, when a Victorian friend I hadn't seen all year because of their state lockdown, swung by Sydney on her way to Byron Bay for Christmas with her family. We ate it for dessert after dinner and the next morning I packed her off with a few fat slices for the road. Loaf cakes, as all this attests, are incredibly portable. Maybe it's partly the emotion of the occasion but there's something really joyful about the combination of flavours and colours in this cake - the tropical feel of the coconut, the pop of pink raspberry and the the zing of the lime. I'm always partial to sour cream in cakes, because of the taste and also as it keeps well.. which means it's both brilliant for leftovers and can be made in advance.

Lemon coconut snacking cake

Cakes that contain sour cream are almost guaranteed to be good. I first heard about this one on the Home Cooking podcast. Samin Nosrat was raving about it so I paid attention. Samin - of chocolate midnight cake and Ligurian foccacia fame - is someone to be taken seriously. In addition to the sour cream and Samin's seal of approval, this cake also had going for it that it was super simple and featured lemons, which are cheap and plentiful right now in Australia. When I made it I wasn't disappointed - it's zippy with citrus, unbelievably soft from the coconut milk and sour cream, and in squares, easily transportable. I made it one weekend to take up to the Blue Mountains on a day trip, and the very next weekend to take across town on the train for dinner at a friend's. Its other advantage is that because it's an oil-based cake, it keeps really well and I imagine would freeze well too. Should you have any left over. I can almost guarantee you won't.

Ginger cake with brown sugar cream cheese frosting

Winter cakes should be cosy. Ginger, with its warming qualities, falls squarely into this category, the edible equivalent of a woolly jumper. That doesn't sound very appetising at all but this cake certainly is. It's been the hit of Melbourne's lockdown, after the recipe was published on The Design Files. I think we're all feeling a little anxious right now and comfort food is a good way to offset all the numbers and news reports and rules defining our lives. So don't deny yourself cake. Especially when it's this delicious.

 

 

Pistachio and lemon loaf

Since my success with Nigella Lawson's lemon tendercake, I've looked to expand my range of reliably delicious cakes that just happen to be vegan. I'd come across this recipe, from Ochre Bakery in Detroit, some time ago, and it was every bit as good as I hoped. Moist and nutty from the ground pistachios, puckeringly sour sweet with lemon and in loaf form, it's an easily made and transportable picnic cake.