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.

Pistachio and rosewater cake with mascarpone and roasted plums

Incredibly, this is the 200th recipe I've posted here. For a while, I wasn't sure if I'd post it at all because in my haste to carve up this cake and serve it I didn't get a great photo but if this isn't a celebration cake, I don't know what is. Nothing says decadence like a dessert containing a budget-blowing boatload of pistachios. Roasted and chopped, they're bound with eggs, sugar, lemon zest and a dash of rosewater and baked into what is essentially, in taste and texture, one large macron - a sweet, chewy centre cased in a crisp exterior... with mascarpone cream and roasted plums piled on top. The end result is elegant, effortless, gluten-free and most importantly, delicious. Especially on a sticky Sunday afternoon in Brisbane surrounded by friends.

Plum torte

It's been a good summer. Full of ocean walks, harbour swims, stone fruit and of course, cake. And when that cake is made with summer fruit, and eaten outside then it's a win-win-win. Though I've misleadingly pictured apricots above (because how could I not when they're this beautiful?), the cake above left is a plum cake. And a famous one at that. From 1982-89, Marian Burros' recipe was printed each summer in The New York Times. Despite a warning from editors and a final printing of the recipe in large print with a border to encourage clipping, when it didn't appear the following year the newspaper's readers rioted. Ever since, it has been a perennial recipe on its pages. I can see why. A base of pale, buttery cake rises up around dark fruit that transforms in the baking into perfectly sour-sweet pockets of jam. It looks and tastes like something you've picked up at a patisserie when really all you did was potter around in your kitchen for fifteen minutes one morning before heading out for a swim.

Plum and vanilla cake

Summer is over. Well, technically. As of the 1st of March. But last I looked, the beaches are still packed, I'm still wearing shorts and stone fruit is still in the supermarkets. So I thought I'd best take advantage. Of the great bounty of summer produce, plums are a particular favourite of mine. They don't have the troublesome fur of peaches or apricots, the straightforward sweetness of nectarines, or the premium price of cherries. They're compact yet substantial and come in all sorts of pretty shades from blue black to pale yellow. I love them firm and somewhat sour, but soft and sweet is just fine too. Especially when used in cooking, whether a jam, a pie... or a cake, like the one I made last weekend. This recipe comes from Bill Granger, whose food I associate very much with Sydney summers: fresh, clean and bright with flavour. This is food to be eaten outdoors, perfect for picnics, or the rooftop deck of a Surry Hills terrace, where I found myself with friends on Friday night. After a hot and humid day, as night fell, you could feel autumn in the air. But the taste of summer was still on our plates. The plums, sandwiched between a rich, butter cake bottom and a crumbly streusel top, slump and soften while cooking, and cut the overall sweetness - and the pale golden interior - of the dessert with a tart thread of red. So it's goodbye to summer... and, for me, to Sydney for a while. I'm skipping autumn and winter and heading straight for spring. See you there.

Stone fruit skillet streusel pie

 

In another life, I'd live in the country and I'd make pie. There'd be no deadlines, no peak hour traffic, just berries and quiet and time to work on the perfect crust. But in this life, the one I have right now, I have a new cookbook, and old friends to feed pie I make from it. Part of the reason I love travelling in the States so much I'll wager, is my proximity to pie. On this recent trip, I managed to eat quite a lot of it (though it's never enough).  

I didn't get to the east coast this time round - my nightmare travel scenario are those images on the news of people sleeping in airports below banks of screens of cancelled flights so I deliberately avoided any area with snow, which proved wise given the polar vortex - but next time I do, I'll be sure to stop in at Four and Twenty Blackbirds, a pie place in Brooklyn, run by two sisters from North Dakota. They just published a cookbook, named for their store, and this weekend, in the midst of a mountain of work, it seemed a good time to christen it. This particular recipe had many things going for it. One, it was made in a cast-iron skillet, my all-time favourite piece of cooking equipment. Two, it involved summer fruit, which is currently at its peak here in the southern hemisphere. And three, anything with a streusel topping is a sure-fire crowd pleaser and an easy out for an over-stressed pie maker, who doesn't have the time for double crusts, fancy crimping or lattice tops.

Having returned from my trip more than a week ago now, I can't quite blame jet lag, but I confess I completely botched the crust by mistaking my 1/3 cup measure for my 1/4 one when parcelling out the dry ingredients. When the dough was chilling in the fridge and I was washing up, I realised I'd made a mistake but was reluctant to waste what I'd made. So I persevered with dough that was obviously too dry. Though it was significantly less malleable than it would have been in the correct proportions, it still tasted great, the cornmeal adding a wonderful texture to something so traditionally staid. And the filling! Oh my. You could use any combination of stone fruit you like but I've got a particular fondness for plums and nectarines, especially when their juices turn dramatically red and bubble up through the cracks in the crumbly streusel. Whatever the life you have or aspire to have, pie is possible. Right now. What are you waiting for?